The Elephant is Here

The Elephant is Here I'm trying to be still. I'm trying to keep up with the conversation flowing around me. But my eyes keep going to the window, and my mind follows as well. Sunlight is pouring into this room, and the clouds resemble puffy pillows. I can see a plane making its ascent towards heaven. Soon, I think. " What do you think, Jay?" It's a question from my sister Paula, and I struggle to grasp the thread of the conversation which was being held. Something about wedding dresses. " I think it's up to the bride how much should be spent on a dress. But as the mother of the bride, you should explain about the after wedding expenses, Paula. You know, like life. Tell my niece money saved is always a good thing," I said, feeling wise beyond my years. " I swear I'm trying to impart my life lessons to her! But she's on cloud nine right now and blah, blah, blah," Paula droned on. I had tuned her out as soon as I said my part, just to pretend I was taking part in the conversation. My mind had already moved on to weightier issues. I started pondering questions that I would probably never know the answer to. Chicken or egg, which came first? Ha! Just seeing if you were paying attention. Did Shakespeare write the King James Bible? Is there a treasure on Oak Island? What really happened to Amelia Earhart? Lately, these types of questions were keeping me up at night. " Do you think this is the Cubs year, Jay?" my brother Stan said, interrupting my thought flow. Good question. But it was also a question which was asked every year the Cubbies had an above average team. But it had been over 100 years since the Cubs had won a World Series, a fact which White Sox fans were quick to point out. The Cubs did have a chance this year. The dream of October baseball was enough to keep the Cubbie fans faithful. " If this is finally the year, then there'll be a lot of Cubs caps, t-shirts, and memorabilia placed on a lot of gravestones. Like when the Red Sox finally broke their curse, remember?" I said. I didn’t think the city would be able to handle the hoopla when the championship finally came to the North Side, but it would certainly feel good, like vindication for all the years of being faithful fans. There was a brief silence, and then the validity of all the various sports curses were discussed. The Detroit Lions had been cursed by a player they had traded away, and they hadn't won a championship since. It was suggested the city of Cleveland should have an exorcism performed, in order to lift its various curses. I think LeBron James might be the one to break the Cleveland curse. I looked out of the window again, and my mind drifted again. It was summertime in Chicago, and for my money, there's no place like Chi-town in the summer. Softball games at Grant Park, Venetian Night with all of the boats, the Chosen Few House music festival in Jackson Park, businesswomen in summer dresses and high heels walking downtown, the fragrance of barbecue permeating the air. Damn. "Are the Republicans going to get in the White House, Jay? What do you think?" my Dad said, once again interrupting my reverie. Interesting question. There were certainly enough people in America who felt as if the Democratic president had ruined America, and its so-called values. But most of the Republican candidates had each said something inane or racist, at least once, which wouldn't win them the presidency. " If Trump is the frontrunner right now, then you might as well tell Hillary to plan the inaugural party," I said. I coughed then, and sipped a little water. I looked around the room at the faces gathered here. My Dad, my sister Paula, my brother Stan, and my mom. I locked eyes with my mom, and she gave me a smile in return. The conversation about politics was captivating everyone, except me. I was thinking about juicy shrimp po'boys, thick gumbo, jazz music, and the sultry heat of New Orleans. I could picture myself sitting in Jackson Square, drinking an ice cold beer, and watching a band of street musicians ply their trade. I could taste the beer on my lips. I had an epiphany then. I interrupted their conversation to make a statement of my own. " I want a second line, ok, Ma?" I said, looking into my mother's eyes. She nodded her head in assent, and the political conversation resumed around us. The pyramids of Egypt, the Super Bowl, Mt. Rushmore, and St. Peter's Basilica flitted across my mind. They were bucket list items that I hadn't crossed off yet. When the movie The Bucket List had come out, I'd been so intrigued with the idea, that I'd written my own. The aforementioned places, plus the Napa Valley, Key West, the Grand Canyon, London Bridge, skydiving, river rafting, and I'd gotten a dragon tattoo. It was somehow fulfilling to have seen most of the places, and done most of the things I'd wanted to. "Do you need anything, baby?" my mother said to me, snapping me back to reality. " Do you want to really know, Ma?" I asked her, with the most sardonic grin I could muster. I needed to understand everything, Ma. I needed to lie on a beach watching bikinis. I needed to meet strangers in bars and talk of cabbages and kings. I needed to see what was going to happen next week, next month, next year. I needed to be here. " I appreciate the conversations which you all keep starting, I really do. But the elephant isn't leaving the room," I said. " Paula, your daughter's wedding is going to be beautiful, because you'll make sure of that. Dad, the Republicans can only get in if they manage to divide the Democrats. Stan, when the Cubbies win the World Series, I want you to cry, laugh, shout, and drink an ice cold beer for your little brother Jay, who wishes he could be there." And my tears became an avalanche, and my family gathered around my hospice bed to hold me, and cry with me. This was what I needed. I didn't need for one of my last times with my family to be filled with discussions of events that I wouldn't see. I needed hugs and kisses, because I was facing death. Not death as an abstract thought, but imminent, like in the next couple of days. Pancreatic adenocarcinoma. I'd been diagnosed almost a year ago, but it was too late by then. I'd won the wrong kind of lottery, at least in my opinion. I'd fought, and prayed, and suffered, and the battle was about over. The elephant in the room was my upcoming departure from this world. Nobody wanted to mention it, but it was part of every conversation. I would love to see my niece get married, or the Cubbies finally win, but I wouldn't. And I was scared because no one had ever sent a fax or phoned from the Great Beyond to tell us what to expect. Part of me hoped for Heaven, or a white light. The other part of my soul knew it was just eternal sleep. I'd see. I'd send a postcard, if I could. I was getting my list of questions together, because at some point in the next few days, I'd be getting the answers...or not. msh 7-22-15