The silver elevator doors opened to the fourth floor and I stepped out on to the white tile. A part of me wanted to take a long pause, but adrenaline carried me forward. I turned to make my way down the wide hall when I am met with one of the hospice nurses. I continued to allow my feet to swiftly move me forward as the nurse strides beside me. “She has been comatose for a week,” came the words. “She has no family and it could be any time now.” I rushed past the plush painted hallway, took note of the long corridor, and made my way around the corner all the while listening to the medical terms flowing from the skilled woman beside me. Bits and pieces of words crowded my mind. “Am I ready for this one?” I thought to myself.
Carrying my large heavy black vinyl case in one hand and my satchel in the other, I found the hallway coming to an end. I stared at the blank wall facing me before I turned into the unknown. The room carried a dim glow colored in a cozy blanket of warmth. It was saturated with comfort. The soft plush love seat sat by the door inviting the weary to seek refuge. The furniture brought a touch of home into the room.
There she lay, flat on her back, in the single bed that has become her stronghold. Lashes adorn her face, as her pale frail body lay limp. The cream colored bedding was creased and tucked securely under her arms resting ever so gently beside her.
I sat my large keyboard down and turned to look more closely at the room. “What can I place the keyboard on?” I said to myself. Beside her bed stood a tall sturdy brown tray. I gently removed her plastic pink pitcher of water and placed it on the nightstand next to the soft glow of the lamp.
I placed my hand upon her arm and gently stroked it calling her name. A faint whisper of a breath flowed from her discolored lips. She is breathing, yet there is still no movement. Silence takes over and for a moment I stand and stare at her wondering what she was once like; wondering what kind of things she enjoyed in life.
“Where is her family?,” I uttered beneath my breath as the sound of the zipper on my case filled the room. I bent to place the keyboard on the tray when my head turned toward the window. Through the tinted glass frame a burn of orange and red held onto the sky surrounding every inch of it with it’s soft tender beauty. There in the middle of the painted picture stood a shadow; a perfect silhouette of a church. Its tall regal steeple flowed through the window filling the room with majesty. The room filled with affection. “What a beautiful picture for someone about to take her last breath. If only she could see it.”
My mouth opened and poured forth a melody familiar to most ears. “Amazing Grace” I sang. I sang as a precious sweet spirit made itself known. I sang as the glow of warmth flowed through upon us. I sang with passion to the woman before me as my hands touched her shoulder and my eyes gazed upon the silhouette of the church. Harmonies vibrated across the room as if angels themselves were singing and I was amazed at what I heard knowing that it could not be coming from me. And then I stopped.
She moved. I paused as if I were a statue soaking in every detail of what was happening before me. She opened her hazy eyes and my lips curved ever so slightly. I called her name. She gathered every ounce of energy within her to bring forth a crooked smile as well.
“Would you like to hear more music?” I placed her hand in mine.
All was silent once again but the small breath flowing from her lungs. I watched and waited patiently and then it happened. The gentle squeeze of her hand in mine became the message.
And so I sang.
“Amazing Grace how sweet the sound . . .”
Carrying my large heavy black vinyl case in one hand and my satchel in the other, I found the hallway coming to an end. I stared at the blank wall facing me before I turned into the unknown. The room carried a dim glow colored in a cozy blanket of warmth. It was saturated with comfort. The soft plush love seat sat by the door inviting the weary to seek refuge. The furniture brought a touch of home into the room.
There she lay, flat on her back, in the single bed that has become her stronghold. Lashes adorn her face, as her pale frail body lay limp. The cream colored bedding was creased and tucked securely under her arms resting ever so gently beside her.
I sat my large keyboard down and turned to look more closely at the room. “What can I place the keyboard on?” I said to myself. Beside her bed stood a tall sturdy brown tray. I gently removed her plastic pink pitcher of water and placed it on the nightstand next to the soft glow of the lamp.
I placed my hand upon her arm and gently stroked it calling her name. A faint whisper of a breath flowed from her discolored lips. She is breathing, yet there is still no movement. Silence takes over and for a moment I stand and stare at her wondering what she was once like; wondering what kind of things she enjoyed in life.
“Where is her family?,” I uttered beneath my breath as the sound of the zipper on my case filled the room. I bent to place the keyboard on the tray when my head turned toward the window. Through the tinted glass frame a burn of orange and red held onto the sky surrounding every inch of it with it’s soft tender beauty. There in the middle of the painted picture stood a shadow; a perfect silhouette of a church. Its tall regal steeple flowed through the window filling the room with majesty. The room filled with affection. “What a beautiful picture for someone about to take her last breath. If only she could see it.”
My mouth opened and poured forth a melody familiar to most ears. “Amazing Grace” I sang. I sang as a precious sweet spirit made itself known. I sang as the glow of warmth flowed through upon us. I sang with passion to the woman before me as my hands touched her shoulder and my eyes gazed upon the silhouette of the church. Harmonies vibrated across the room as if angels themselves were singing and I was amazed at what I heard knowing that it could not be coming from me. And then I stopped.
She moved. I paused as if I were a statue soaking in every detail of what was happening before me. She opened her hazy eyes and my lips curved ever so slightly. I called her name. She gathered every ounce of energy within her to bring forth a crooked smile as well.
“Would you like to hear more music?” I placed her hand in mine.
All was silent once again but the small breath flowing from her lungs. I watched and waited patiently and then it happened. The gentle squeeze of her hand in mine became the message.
And so I sang.
“Amazing Grace how sweet the sound . . .”
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