28 #2
‘Lou? Can you hear me?’ I say, sitting down next to him.
His breathing is shallow, and he’s just lying there, looking pale, weak and not like the man I met when he first moved in.
He isn’t even like the man I knew a few weeks ago, such has been the speed of his decline.
I reach across and hold his hand, which is dry, cold and brittle. ‘Lou, it’s me, Saskia.’
He finally opens his eyes, and without moving his head, he looks across at me. It’s always heartbreaking when residents die, but especially when it’s someone who has become a friend.
‘How ya goin’?’ says Lou, his gravelly voice barely audible.
‘I think better than you.’
‘Fucking dying, eh.’
I laugh, trying to keep the tears at bay because I don’t want his last memory on earth to be me crying my eyes out. Instead, I pick up my guitar.
‘Do you want to hear that song? ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis, right?’
Lou doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at me, and then I begin strumming my guitar and singing his favourite song.
After Lou told me about this song, I went home and started practicing because I wanted to get it just right.
If it was going to be the last time he heard his dead wife’s favourite song, I wanted it to be good.
I play the song, and when I finish, I reach across and hold Lou’s hand.
We sit like this, his breathing becoming more laboured, and it can’t be long now.
After about ten minutes, I feel him gently squeeze my hand.
‘Sas.’
‘Yes, Lou, what is it?’ I say, standing up so I can lean closer to him.
‘The drawer.’
‘What drawer, Lou? What are you talking about?’ It’s probably the drugs talking now, but he lets go of my hand and he manages to point across to the bedside table next to his bed.
‘Oh, this drawer,’ I say, standing up, and then I reach down, open the drawer and it’s completely empty except for an envelope. I take the envelope and sit down again. ‘What’s this?’
‘For you,’ he says, his voice barely audible now.
I look at the plain white envelope, and written in his wiggly, terrible handwriting, it says: Saskia.
Thank you. Go and live your life. It’s short.
Fucking enjoy it. Choose love! Lou x . I open the envelope, peer inside and all that’s in there is a cheque.
I take it out, look at it, and it’s made out to me for twenty thousand dollars.
I am gobsmacked, and don’t know what to say.
‘Lou. I can’t accept this. It’s too much, and what about your son?
’ I look at him, and his breathing has become even shallower.
He opens his eyes and looks at me, perhaps for the last time, and I know exactly what I need to do for him.
One last moment. One final thing to do before he dies.
He’s an old man who, for most of the time, annoyed people, offended, but all I see is a heartbroken old man who lost the love of his life.
He’s looking up at me, and I don’t know if he’s even with it, but I lift my shirt, pull my bra down, and I show Lou Sanders my tits.
It’s what he would have wanted. I peer down at him, and I see a small smile appear on his face.
I sit with Lou for the next thirty minutes, holding his hand so he knows he isn’t alone.
He doesn’t move, open his eyes, and his breathing is erratic, and occasionally he will make a noise and then silence again, and I have to check if he’s still with me.
As I’m sitting here with him, memories of doing the same with Dad come back to me.
The last few hours with Dad were Mum and I sitting on either side of his bed, each holding a hand, and we just sat there, talking to him, trying not to cry, until eventually he slipped away.
It’s impossible not to cry now because the memory of Dad is still so fresh in my mind.
I’m losing Lou, and I’m going to miss him terribly.
He lived a whole life, had a family, but on his deathbed it’s just me.
Where is his son, and why has he never been to visit?
I sit holding his hand, my mind completely blown away by everything that has happened today from the FaceTime with Ben, the gig for Fudge Cake, and now Lou dying and leaving me twenty thousand dollars.
I don’t know what to think about any of it.
After another twenty minutes, it feels like he’s gone, and so I check for a pulse just to make sure, and there is nothing.
He is completely still. Lou Sanders is dead.
I let go of his hand, and before I tell Rhonda he’s gone, I look across at the nightstand.
Since the day he moved in, Lou’s had a picture in a cheap silver frame on his nightstand.
It’s a photo of Lou and his wife, Daphne, getting married.
Lou looks so young, and he’s standing there, in front of a church in a suit next to Daphne, who looks gorgeous in a beautiful white dress.
They’re both smiling, in love, and seeing it now breaks my heart.
They had their whole lives ahead of them.
Before I leave the room, I take the photo with me as a reminder of Lou and the moments we shared.
Also, if no-one collects their things, the home will just throw it all away.
I pick up my guitar, the photo and leave Lou’s room for the last time.
Outside I find the nurse, and I tell her what’s happened. She needs to perform all the procedural things that need to be done when someone dies, and after I find Rhonda, we walk back to her office together.
‘Sorry for your loss, Sassie. I know you two were close.’
‘We were,’ I reply, sitting down opposite her. I’m about to ask about the cheque, and whether I can actually keep it, when Rhonda starts speaking.
‘Listen, Sassie. After we spoke about Lou’s son, and knowing it was getting towards the end, I started looking into it. I made a few calls, did a bit of digging, and this might come as a bit of a shock, and I only found out this morning myself, but as it turns out, there is no son.’
‘What?’ I say incredulously. ‘But he lives in Melbourne. Lou spoke about him all the time. He said he pays for him to be here.’
‘He had a son, Nathan. He died when he was a teenager, apparently. Something about a swimming pool accident. I couldn’t get all the information. Anyway, Lou Sanders had no-one when he died. The poor bastard was literally all by himself, well, except for you, of course.’
‘Oh, that’s so sad,’ I say, and then I start crying.
Really fucking crying. Rhonda is soon passing me tissues to wipe my eyes, but I can’t stop the tears that come and come.
Lou’s son died when he was a teenager. It’s no wonder Lou was such a cantankerous old bastard.
The only two people in the world he loved, and they were both gone.
I was going to ask Rhonda about the cheque, and whether I could legally keep it, but if he had no-one else, if I was the only person he had left in the entire world, then surely if it’s what he wanted, then I should keep it because it’s like he wrote on the envelope.
Go and live your life. It’s short. Fucking enjoy it. Choose love!