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December 27, 2006

Jim: The Winner

My older brother, so sturdy and proud in youth, now lies small and feeble in the antiseptic hospice bed, an IV relentlessly dripping saline and morphine into his blue, withered veins. I listen to his final battle against the cancer in every ragged breath.

“Andy,” he rasps weakly, beckoning with a bony finger.

I lean close. “I’m here, Simon.”

“One. Last. Thing.” His voice is no more than a quavering whisper.

I hold one gaunt hand while his other reaches toward me. “What is it, Simon?”

A shaking fingertip gently touches my tear-streaked cheek and he painfully gasps, “Tag. You’re…”

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