The Coffin

I’m in my coffin with the lid open. It’s quite comfy actually. I just would like to pull that silk sheet over my shoulders. I’ve got my business suit on. They, whoever they are, must have looked deep in my closet to find it. I haven’t worn this suit in seven years. I know it’s been at least seven years because I’ve been retired that long and have not worn a suit since. Until today apparently.

I can’t see above the rim of this coffin but I feel (I can still feel?) like I’m in a real quite place as their seems to be a fair amount of movement around me but I can not heard anything. But above me are four people, two on each side, that I recognize. Mom and Dad on one side and my sister and wife on the other. They have sad faces as they look down upon me. What happened I wonder?

My mother: “He pulled the plug on me. I could have survived.”

Her lips are not moving but I can read her thoughts. Mom, you had so many surgeries the doctors would not perform anymore. Your body would not have survived the onslaught of another operation.  You were 84 mom and you had a very good life with lots of friends and caring family. Yes, it was my decision to let you go

My sister: “He pulled the plug on me too. I know I was not responsive and had been a vegetable for months but I still could feel emotions.”

But Sis, you were born with one kidney, the other failed after a few years, you were on dialysis for years, your body was exhausted and worn out. You were only 56 years old but most of those years you suffered. You had friends, family, and neighbors to help you, but you mainly suffered on your own. Yes, it was my decision to let you go.

My father: “He pulled the plug on me too, the little weasel.”

Dad, you fell off the toilet and suffered severe brain damage that was irreversible. The doctors told me you would never regain consciousness ever again. Yes, it was my decision to let you go.

My wife: “Yes, I am the one who pulled the plug on you.”

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