We Thought He Was Sleeping

This little story was written about five weeks before the Colonel died. I can't help but get misty-eyed even now, as I read my memories from that time. 

Ralph sleeps more and more. Some days I feel that he's only awake for an hour or so. The body reserves energy for what is vital, they say. I was worried about it, but I went to the grocery store this afternoon as Ralph slept in his chair. I had changed him, made him comfortable, and he was somewhere far away... Martha assured me that they'd be fine. I brought back a really nice, large, sweet potato, among other things. When I arrived, Ralph was still sleeping, mouth open wide, head tilted back. I always look at his chest to check for breathing. Ah, yes. Breathing. Martha and I talked in hushed tones. I described what I had purchased, and we settled the money part of things. Then I said, softly, "I thought I'd make a sweet potato..." and Ralph suddenly said "I want a sweet potato! Lots of butter."

Well, okay then! Martha and I had a good laugh.

Sadly, his desire for sweet potato was desire only. His body rejected the actual delicious treat dripping with butter and dressed with sea salt. Oh, it's not that he didn't try. He gave it his best try.

Ralph is ever more confused. Yesterday he put after shave on his hair. I thought... well? That will smell nice. He often asks how to proceed when taking pills. Today he woke for a moment, blurted out "What are we doing??" and fell back to sleep promptly. When I woke him to go to the back for a change, I sat beside hiim and held his hand until he came around. It took a while. I realize things are winding down. When we were in the bathroom, he started an old familiar sentence. I was happy, because it was like he was "back". He said "How are we fixed for...." and then fell silent. I asked "For??" and he said "I don't know what I was going to say."

He never asks about the groceries anymore. Never asks after the stock of tissues or toilet paper. He wants to know if the plants have been watered. He asks that often. He wants to know if the window is closed. He requests the strangest things, and it's hard to imagine why they even matter. It is one of the saddest things I have ever watched. Still, those brilliant blue eyes look up at me under bushy eyebrows, and sometimes - just sometimes - I get the little grin.