The Last Hill

It is pleasant, the drive. With the warm spring air, the windows are partially open allowing the sweet warm air in. They aren't heading anywhere in particular, just a relaxing Sunday afternoon drive. 

They decided to take a road they haven't traveled before. “Live a little,” he jokes,” while I can.”

Gallows humor. Her husband of fifty years is dying of pancreatic cancer. This may be their last drive together. 

Her smile is strained. They are blessed, she knows. Fifty years is a long time, just not long enough. “Yes,” she wipes a tear off her cheek, “let's.”

The day before they were told there is nothing else to be done. Hospice has been scheduled. 

He helps her into the passenger seat just as he had when they were first dating. In the lines of her face, he still sees the young girl.

She smiles at him, squeezing the hand that rests on the stick shift. 

An hour later, they are well on the way down the old country road.

“Recall the first drive I took you on?” She smiles, resting her head against him. The thick shoulder is now bony still she leaves it there.

“Yes, you were smartly dressed in a suit. Approached my door with a bunch of flowers. My dad answered.”

“Yes. I was shaking in my shoes yet recalled what my on pa told me. “Hold your head up high son. Meet his eyes and offer your hand. A good firm grip but not too hard. Wait for him to let go.” I did all that.”

“You impressed him. He told me when you brought me back, right on time, that you were a gentleman, raised right.”

“Still he hesitated to give me your hand.” 

“He would have been with anyone. Come, recall how you treated our daughter ‘s suitors?”

He huffs, “They were all idiots. Well,” He sighs, “until Dave.” 

Georgia and Dave have been married twenty -seven years. Their eldest recently got engaged. A sharp pain at realizing he will miss her wedding. 

“Yes, she got a good one in him.”  All their children are in good marriages. They have gifted them ten grandchildren and three greats, so far.

“They all did. We did well.” There is a comfort in that. 

“Yes.” She smiles at the memories. Growing big with Jr. and convinced that her husband will never see her the same way again. The birth of their second son, eighteen months later, put that fear to rest. A daughter and then three more sons completed their family. 

“She will know I am looking down on her?” Her eyes fill with tears. A nod before she can speak.

“She will.” Julie and her intended, Evan, have spoken about having a quick ceremony, ‘ so Gramps can be here.’ He assured her that he would be, no matter what.

“She has always dreamed of a fancy wedding. Remember when she was little, she would play the bride using your shawl as a veil?” 

“Yes. I still have pictures of that.” 

“Get them blown up and use them to decorate for the reception.” Her husband suggests.

“That is a fine idea.” She knows just the one too, the one where she is walking towards her Gramps.

So much he has experienced. Going away for war, the birth and raising of all their children, holding his grandchildren in his arms, now seeing his eldest granddaughter engaged. So much and yet… how much will he not see? She feels her throat close with tears. 

The road continues, unceasing before them.

“I know, mí cherí,” he hasn't called her that in years, “I know. But the purpose of this life is to prepare for the next. In that regard, I am successful. I know where I am going. We have raised a successful and blessed family. The future belongs to them.”

“You always know just what to say.” He always had. When their eldest told them he was joining the military and she was scared, he had the words to comfort her. When she lost her last baby, halfway through the pregnancy, he held her, weeping with her. And now, when he knows he is leaving her, again, he knows just what to say.

“Listening to that still small Voice. I know you will grief me. Just promise it won't be without hope, that you will know I wait on the other side for you?” 

She lets a shaking breath out. “I promise.” Her tears wet his shoulder.

“I will miss you too.” 

“In just a little while,” she starts to sing, her voice hoarse with emotion, “we will cross the Jordan. In just a little while, we will see the King of Kings.” It is a song they made up and sang to their children while they drifted off to sleep. Now it is a comfort as he prepares to cross the Jordan.

“Soon and very soon, I am going to see the King.” He softly sings. She lets out a shuddering breath. How long have they been driving? They haven't turned or left the road. 

“This road goes on forever.” 

“The road to heaven, it does seem to go on and on. With its twists and turns. But, we keep on the road, walking with Him. Now there are only a few more miles left. One more hill to climb.”

They gather around him, his wife holding tight to his hand. Their children and grandchildren surround the bed. His eyes are cloudy, he looks up past them. His smile is full of peace. 

“Yes, Jesus. I see You. I am, “ He turns to his wife, “My heart, I will see you over the hill,” His eyes are beyond them once more, “I am ready Lord to go home.” 

He lifts his arms, reaching into eternity before they fall slack beside him as he lets out his last breath. A moan of grief feels the room. His wife pats his hand, kisses his cheek.

“Rest my love, in the arms of God. I will meet you when my own road ends.”