The Last Day

They returned too late. Delia’s father was gone. John couldn’t think of anything to comfort his sister. Tears sprung forth across the dam she had held closed until now. Why did daddy have to leave?

It had been a long 3 months, but not long enough to save Delia’s father from the disease that killed him so slowly. He had been diagnosed with prostate cancer in the middle of March, shortly after his 67th birthday. Mark tried to break the news gently to his daughter. He knew it would not go over well, and he was right.

“Delia, sweetheart, I am an old man.”

“No, daddy, the doctor’s can save you,” she said between sobs.

“Not from this, dear heart. God has given me this last challenge in life and I know at the end of it I will be in his arms for eternity.”

“Dad, please don’t die. What about your grandchild growing inside me?”

“You will have to tell him or her stories about me, Delia. I can’t be saved from this; the cancer is too far advanced.”

His last wish had been for Delia to patch her relationship with her brother. She had, but too late for him to see his only son. Perhaps he could see them from Heaven, Delia would never know.

“Delia,” John said unsure of how to ease the pain. She turned and hugged him, her pregnant belly getting in the way. Now that she had her brother back she would never let him go.

“Oh John,” she sobbed, “I just wanted him to see you one last time. I wish that we had never lost touch all those years ago.”

“I know you did, but everything happens for a reason. I’m sure that dad is in Heaven with God looking down on us and smiling.”

“Why did God have to take him before he could meet his granddaughter?”

“I don’t know, Dee, but at least he’s at peace now. He can’t suffer anymore.”

John walked his baby sister over to the chair in the corner of their father’s bedroom. The lace curtains their mother had picked out so long ago still hung in the windows.

Mark had kept the house exactly as it was, as a reminder of his loving wife, when she died giving birth to his second daughter, Angie. Angie had died a few days later, and Mark never quite got over the loss. His wife, Lucille, had loved living in an old Victorian house and she decorated it likewise.

John and Delia heard a knock on the bedroom door, and John’s wife, Mary, came in. Delia was jealous of how happy they were together. She had been through a rough divorce just before her father’s diagnosis. She had discovered her pregnancy in October, but never told her ex-husband. Everything she had worked so hard for was falling apart before her very eyes.

“Delia,” John’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“What? Sorry.”

“Mary and I were just saying we’d like you to come back to North Dakota with us. You have been living here taking care of dad for so long. Isn’t it time you got away and had a little vacation?”

“I suppose.”

“Great, we’ll help you pack.”

“We’d need to find someone to take care of the dog.” Delia got up from the chair and walked out of her father’s bedroom and went left down the hallway to her old room. She pushed open the door and went to her dresser. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she pulled the small revolver from her underwear draw.

She could hear John and Mary in the hall, but she couldn’t handle it anymore. She put the gun to her temple and before she could pull the trigger John tackled her.

“What the hell are you doing!” he shouted as he pried the gun from her clammy hands and threw off to the side.

“I can’t take anymore sadness, John,” She sobbed.

“I know you’re upset, sis, we all are.”

“How could you possibly know how I feel!” she yelled, her anger finally showing through. “My husband had an affair with a male nurse and divorced me. He left me with nothing, John, nothing! I was forced to come and live with dad for his last months on this world and I lost him too! I can’t lose anyone else!”

“Delia, please, just calm down.”

“Calm down! How can I, John? I’ve lost almost everyone worth caring about. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Only you can answer that question, dear heart.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Dear heart, why?”

“That’s what daddy always called me.”

“I know, Dee. He wrote to me after his cancer was diagnosed. He told me what you’ve been through the past few years. There were times I could swear I could hear you crying at night.”

Delia cried out as a sharp pain sent waves through her abdomen.

“Dee? What’s wrong?”

“I think the baby’s coming,” she said in anguish.

“Mary, get downstairs and call an ambulance!” She was already running down the stairs. Delia cried out as another contraction washed over her.

“Oh crap!”

“What? Delia, what’s wrong?”

“My water just broke.” John looked and saw a puddle forming on the floor.

“Dee, I’ll be right back.” John ran to the bathroom, grabbed an armload of towels and ran back to Delia’s room. He put a couple towels on top of the growing puddle of fluid. There was thudding on the stairs and a female EMT rushed into the room. John quickly got out of the way.

The EMT looked at John, “What’s her name?”

“Delia, call her Dee.”

The EMT looked back to Delia as she screamed from another contraction.

“This baby isn’t going to wait for the hospital,” she said breathing hard. The EMT nodded.

“I know. How far along are you Dee?”

“About eight months,” she replied heavily.

The EMT pulled off the skirt Dee had been wearing; it was now covered in amniotic fluid.

“Dee, I need you to push for me; can you do that?” the EMT asked while pulling off Dee’s soiled panties. Dee nodded and pushed as hard as she could, while the EMT counted slowly to ten.

“I can see your baby’s head, Dee. Look down and see it for yourself,” she heard John say.

Dee was concentrating too hard on pushing to look at her daughter being born.

“Dee, I think one more push can get your baby out.”

Delia grunted and bore down hard one last time and suddenly there was relief. She heard the baby scream. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. John smoothed back her hair just like mom used to when she needed comfort.

“Dee, you’ve had a lot of loss in your life, but I think it’s safe to say that today is a new beginning for all of us.”

© 2005-2006 Brenda Fowler. All Rights Reserved.