The Effects Of Major Constitutionalism

The fluorescent lights temporarily blind me as I stroll into Room 212. The sun falls on the metal framework of the bed on the opposite side of the room. The side rails of the bed rise above the small shape of Dad. I knew this day would come but there was no way to prepare myself for it. I gently lower myself into the chair next to his bed and pour a glass of water for him. Silently I turn and glance around the room. A picture with cows…what a clichÐ"©, at least they aren’t playing cards, I think tying to bring humor into my mind. I stare at the painting and hope that Heaven will be just like this for Dad. Farming was his way of life growing up so maybe one day he will find himself in a grassy pasture herding cows with a stick like he was a kid again. The bluish-purplish mountains in the back reflect the ones off in the distance here in real life. My eyes move from the painting to Dad’s body in the bed again. The shadow of the framework is now reaching across his body as the sun lowers outside the window. My legs stick to the hardback leather chair. I get up and open the window; a cool breeze lifts my bangs and ruffles the tissues on Dad’s nightstand. I stand looking out the window, watching how the sun slowly progresses across the lake and behind the distant mountains. How beautiful the scene really is. I mean at least dad gets a great view, it’s better than a parking lot or the busy city.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a slight movement. I turn and Dad is slowly making his way to the window next to me. I offer to move the chair so he can sit down. “Thanks honey”, Dad says as he painstakingly lowers himself to the seat of the chair. I hear a subtle groan and wonder if it is from Dad or the chair. The arthritis has really set into his old bones and done a number on the once strong man sitting next me. “Just think tomorrow we can sit here and watch the fireworks.” Dad tries conversation but I am unsure of what to say. For all I know this could be the last night with him. I don’t want to waste our time with petty talk but at the same time I don’t know what to say. I stand quietly letting Dad ramble on as the breeze slowly cools the room.

An arm reaches out and grabs my hand. I almost forgot that dad was in the room with me. My mind was awash with all of the memories, and time flew by as I stood relishing in what had been and thinking of what could have been. I turn and see Dad’s face wet with tears. “Oh Daddy”, I say as I feel tears making their own streams down the sides of my face.

“I’m so afraid” he quietly says. I don’t know how to answer this. I always thought that I was the only one terrified but knowing that Dad is afraid somehow comforts me, but at the same time it made me even more frightened than before. Dad was always the one that we kids could always look up to and always knew that he would be there to take care of us. I put one arm around Dad’s thin shoulders and do my best to cheer him up.

“It’s going to be okay Daddy. Just think you and Mom will be together again.” Dad’s shoulders droop and a slight smile creeps across his face.

“Yea I guess it will be.” I knew that by bringing Mom up Dad would understand that everything was going to be alright. Mom had passed away a little over a year ago and Dad still found himself doing the little things he knew cheered her up like buying flowers, cooking candle-light dinners and so much more. Knowing that they would be together again not only comforted him but me as well.

Dad stumbles back into bed, tripping over the small trash can.