Annoying people

Annoying People

People are so annoying.

I now understand how when I was young the old people would harass me and my friends for being too loud in public. Our laughing and playful banter at the park was fun to us. But not to the old men who would sit on the park benches and grumble about the young whipper-snappers and all the noise and commotion we made.

I get it now, I truly get it.

I have tried really hard to understand the children on the playground. How they can make up a game and all of them seem to know these unwritten rules, and how to abide by these pretend rules of the game they made.

I sit on my park bench and watch them. Only to be annoyed by the noises they make. Their squeals of laughter, their outward joy at just lying on the grass in the warm summer sun.

It just doesn’t make sense to me anymore. How can they enjoy lying in the grass knowing what’s below their feet? Worms and bugs and the detritus of the past. All decaying slowly away right beneath them as the insect world devours the parts of this world that lived their life and then faded into the earth.

I’ve had enough of the children and decided it’s time to go for a walk. One of my favorite places is the huge oak tree at the edge of the park. The tree has been standing for well over a hundred years now. The canopy of the grand old oak extends a few hundred feet in every direction and provides a secluded place to get away from the noise of the children.

Just as I am about to move around behind the tree, I hear the unmistakable sound of young lovers. Yep, engaged in a very public display of affection. Their clothes now fully doffed and beginning to enjoy what their young bodies have to offer to each other.

Well hell, spending time by the oak tree isn’t an option anymore. Where can I go next?  I decided I’ll head down to the lake’s edge to watch the swans and ducks. I learned a few years ago to approach the birds very carefully. Moving towards them too fast spooks them and they fly off before I even get a chance to enjoy watching them.

After sitting quietly for awhile and just enjoying the quiet moments I couldn’t help but notice a family approaching me. There was what looked like a regular family of a mom and dad with a young girl of maybe 10 and a teenage boy of maybe 13 or 14.

Who am I kidding? I can’t tell the ages of anyone anymore. Everyone looks like a teenager to me now, even the mom and dad.

What really gets my attention though is the young person the dad is pushing in the wheelchair.

This child is frail, very frail, and barely able to keep her head up. Her face is pale and shallow. Her eye sockets are deep, and her eyes barely seem to be registering her surroundings. This child will not be amongst the living for much longer.

The family picks a spot near the water’s edge, and I watch as the teenage boy lays out a very large blanket for the family to sit on. As the sun slowly moves behind the large willow tree the area the family has chosen is now no longer in full sunlight, and the tree provides some welcome shade for the group.

As I watch this unfold in front of me, I see the father very carefully pick up his frail young daughter and place ever so gently onto the blanket. The teenage boy has now gotten a large pillow and has assisted the father and mother prop up the young girl so she can have a full view of the lake.

“Julie, is this what you wanted?” the mother asks of her daughter.

She doesn’t answer her mom, but slowly nods her head in acknowledgement.

Julie tries to take in a lung-full of air, but only manages to get in a few breaths before succumbing to a coughing fit. As her breathing returns to normal she leans back to look up into the sky and watch some of the birds flying overhead. She starts to raise her right hand to point, but barely has the strength and gives up.

She then lowers her head so her eyes can now focus on the lake. With a voice barely above a whisper she manages to say, “Swans.”

The father is quick to understand what she wants and reaches into the small bag they had brought along with them. He pulls out an entire loaf of bread and slowly starts breaking the slices of bread into small pieces. Now every one of the family members is involved and breaking up pieces of bread, then moving down towards the water to lure the aquatic fowl towards them.

It worked.

The entire flock of swans and ducks are now swimming quickly towards the family. Each of the family members throw a few pieces of bread into the water and we watch as the bird’s squabble and fight to get into a better position to retrieve one of the tasty morsels being offered.

While the family works to bring more of the birds closer to their little group, I notice for the first time Julie’s eyes are not watching the birds but are firmly focused on me.

Shouldn’t she be watching the event her family has provided for her? Shouldn’t she be enjoying what may be some of her last memories in what appears to be her last request?

I didn’t have to wait long to understand why she wasn’t paying attention to her family, or the birds.

It was when she said hello that I fully understood.

For me, everything now came into complete focus. I now understand why I have been in this park for the last 89 years. Why I had to suffer through all the annoying people at the park.

“Hello Julie, my name is Arthur. Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Hello Arthur. Can I stay and watch my family for a few more minutes? She asks.

We slowly move away a few yards from the blanket as we watch the tears stream down from her parents and siblings. Their grief is deep and overwhelming.

“Arthur, do you think they will understand I am not in pain anymore?”

“Yes, dear. In time they will. But for now, they need to mourn their loss.”

“Arthur, what’s next?”

I don’t know how to answer her. How do I tell her I have been here in this park for 89 years, and this is the only place I know? Will she suffer the same fate as me? To be stuck here in this park until, well, I have no idea until when.

As I was trying to formulate an answer for her, I noticed something I had never seen before. An intense white light was beginning to form over the water.

For the first time in almost a century I felt calm, peaceful, tranquil, and serene.

It was obvious she was seeing the same thing as I was.

It was then I realized she had taken my hand and was leading us towards the light.

No more annoying people, just peace.