My Brother's Eyes Looked Like Jewels

You have to be buzzed in to Grace Hospice Care. I was walking out as they were buzzing in an older black man nodded I had seen earlier in the week.

At Grace, the buzz is subdued. It's more like a low hum. It's one of the considerate things they do for those of us visiting the dying.

"Hey, how you doing?" The man asked.

I pursed my lips and nodded back.

"Hey."

I know it was a rhetorical greeting; a courtesy. He didn't really want to know how I was doing.

I'm walking out of a hospice care. Chances are, I'm not doing particularly well. You, as someone entering a hospice care should know this and maybe go with a different greeting.

"Hello." or...

"Hi." or...

"I hope the person you're here to see didn't die today."

Only...

the person I'm here to see did die today.

My older brother. I wasn't there when it happened. I tried to be there. I'd been visiting daily, the low-hum of the door by now very familiar to me. But my brother remained stubborn, even in death, lasting weeks longer than the hospice care team expected.

I was working when I got the call.

"Hello, Mr. Keller. It's Angie from Grace Hospice Care. Your brother has passed."

I was visiting an important client. I was two hours away. I can't remember anything about the drive from that client's office to Grace.

By the time I got there, it was early afternoon. I walked into his room. His skin looked like wrinkled, graying khaki. His mouth was open. His tongue was retracted. His eyes were open and had the strangest appearance - as if they had been lacquered - like jewels.

I didn't think to close his eyes like they do in movies. I wasn't sure they would close. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. The skin was tight against his skull. It was dry and cool - unpleasant, but I didn't mind.

How could this happen? This was my older brother. I had always looked up to him. He was always there for me. Whenever I was in trouble, or struggling, he had an uncanny ability to make me feel better.

"Come on, Dan." He would say, in his low, bass voice. It would carry different meanings in different situations. The speed and volume of those words also mattered. Somehow, magically, it was always the right thing to say.

I was desperate to hear him say it one more time. I touched his hand and then left the room. In an unfortunate clarity, I realized it would be the last time I saw my brother.

******

The campus at Grace Hospice Care was pastoral and peaceful. As I walked out the low-hum doors, I was under a bower of lush, pink Clematis. I'd admired the Clematis yesterday, and each day I'd been there to visit. Today, I resented them.

Under the sweet scent of the bower, I moved out into the parking lot that was shaded wonderfully by old oaks. I wanted the skies to darken. I wanted thunder, lightning, hail, destruction.

I got a pleasing breeze, and sunlight softened by an oak canopy.

Two women walked toward me. They looked like a mother and daughter. They were talking. As we passed each other, I caught a segment of their conversation.

"...they're coming by on Tuesday and we're supposed to..." Both of them smiled at me as we passed. I returned a brief, wan smile. Friendly, platonic smiles were better than "How you doing?" But only slightly.

I was having a vision of stopping in the parking lot, leaning over and screaming until my throat tore. But I kept walking toward my truck. The parking lot overlooked a truly beautiful dale. I got in and looked down into the dale. The screaming vision dissipated.

"Sylvan" popped into my mind. I wasn't looking for "sylvan" right now. I was looking for "barren," or "scorched." In spite of my sylvan surroundings, I turned the key in the ignition. The truck started right up. No explosion - just normal.

The low hum of the door had infected me. I now felt the hum in my mind. I tried unsuccessfully to process that my older brother was gone. I forced myself to think it, but it didn't feel true. It couldn't be true.

I put the truck in reverse and backed up. As I started to drive forward, a blue Toyota Corolla pulled into the parking area and pulled neatly into a spot. I didn't move for a few seconds, just watching the Toyota. A man with a full head of brown hair and a thick, full beard, fot out, then leaned back into the car to retrieve something.

Just normal.

******

Grace Hospice is on top of a hill. The road out winds around the sylvan dale. I looked over at the dale, which inspires pondering. The setting couldn't be more peaceful and lovely. A groundhog waddled its way through some of the reeds near the center of the dale.

Just a picturesque day. As I made my way around the curving road. my visions moved from terrible weather into apocalyptic weather. Hellfire rained down on the dale, the reeds, and the unfortunate groundhog. My mind continued its low hum. I blinked, looked again, and watched the groundhog disappear into a thick section of reeds.

I wound my way around the dale, approaching an intersection, I slowed down for a stop sign. At the stop sign, I realized my eyes were filling. I squeezed them shut, then opened them. I wasn't exactly crying, but tears rimmed my eyes, making the world sparkly.

Like jewels.

A horn blared. I looked in the rear view mirror at a silver minivan. I lifted my hand and waved an apology in one of those meaningless, unseen gestures. Then I drove on. The minivan turned left and sped further up the hill away from me and my suffering; my mourning.

The bottom of the dale was lined with pine trees. There were five deer moving among the trees. Two large does turned to look at me while three younger, smaller deer milled about. The two does watched me drive past.

I noticed a perfectly round white patch on the torso of one of the does. It was beautiful at a time when I wasn't seeking beauty. I was seeking anger and sadness.

My heart was sinking in my chest. I took a few deep breaths as I came to the intersection at Bethlehem Boulevard. One final deep breath, and I turned right. I would go to the coffee shop on Bethlehem. I had gone there every day I came to visit my brother.

*****

I parked and got out. A college-aged couple got to the door of the coffee shop a few feet in front of me and went in. They did not hold the door. I don't think they saw me.

"Nice." I thought. "Don't hold the door for the guy who's older brother just..." I shook my head, banishing the thought.

The vision of bending over and screaming came back. It felt very real. I could feel the rawness in my throat as I took my place in line. Fourth place - behind the grossly insensitive college couple and a woman dressed professionally, talking on her phone.

No one acknowledged me or my profound grief. The professional woman ordered a Vanilla Cold Brew, paid using her phone, and moved along the coffee service conveyor belt to the pickup area.

The college students shifted forward. The bent-over, raw-throated scream vision returned. I shifted right behind them quietly. Just normal.

"Orange Mango Smoothie, please." College girl's voice was soft, light, and friendly.

"Cold Macha Latte." College guy's voice was grating. He also paid with his phone. They continued murmuring to each other, and once again, I caught a snippet of their conversation as the conveyor belt moved us along to the pickup area.

"...Derek won't be there tonight. He has to...."

"What can I get you today?" Ben, the server asked. I was distracted, still trying to catch more of the conversation. After a few seconds, I repied.

"Oh, sorry. Just a dark roast, cream and sugar."

"Sure," Ben answered happily. "Size?"

"Oh, um, medium." I mumbled, holding my phone up to the scanner.

"And, can I get your name, please?"

"Dan" I answered, waiting for a "Dan the Man," or "Sorry your big brother died today. I know you grew up idolizing him."

"That'll be right up." Ben answered, writing my name on my cup. Ben nodded to the scanner on the counter. I scanned the app on my phone.

Just normal.

"$3.29 total. Tip?" showed on my screen. I pressed "No," took out my wallet and put two dollar bills into the tip jar on the counter. Ben smiled.

"Hey thanks!" I nodded and gave Ben my wan smile. I shuffled down to the pickup area. The professional woman was already gone. Another server, a young woman with red hair pulled back, brought the college couple their drinks and they too walked out.

No one put a comforting hand on my shoulder. No one whispered "it's going to be okay," or "time heals all wounds."

Just normal.

As one might expect, the coffee shop smelled of coffee and pastries. Just like every other day I had been here. Before I had seen my brother's hardened, jeweled eyes.

Things started to become sparkly again. Thankfully, Ben brought my coffee, along with a cheerful smile.

"Here you go, Dan. Have a great day."

My name was scribbled hastily on the cup in black marker. It looked like "Don."

"Thanks, Ben." I said. He nodded and went back to the register.

*****

I took the cup and went to a seat with a small round table next to me. I took a tentative sip of the coffee, which was very hot, and sat it down on the table.

A young Asian student was sitting at a hightop table, busily typing on his laptop. He was casual, but stylish - neat white t-shirt, jeans, and leather sneakers. He looked up at me, then his eyes immediately returned to the screen and he continued typing. He was typing very fast, the padded taps were rhythmic and oddly calming.

My mind screamed. "DOES NO ONE CARE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?" The rawness in my throat returned, even though I hadn't raised my voice.

I reached over and took another tentative sip. I didn't choke on the coffee. It went down warm and pleasant. I could feel the caffeine clearing my senses like it always did.

But my mind was exploding in a fire of rage and sadness. I took another slightly less tentative sip of the coffee, sat it back on the table and leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.

The stone wall felt cool against my head.

"Cool like David's tight-skinned forehead." Came the hurtful thought. I leaned forward and opened my eyes to a sparkly world. I pursed my lips and willed my eyes to cooperate. Thankfully, they obeyed.

I took another sip. The padded tapping stopped. The young man took a drink of some kind of red fruit drink with ice, staring intently at the screen.

I wanted to cry. To sob, actually. Instead I picked up my coffee, took another sip, and walked past the young man as the padded tapping resumed gradually. We did not make eye contact or acknowledge each other.

No wailing. No gnashing of teeth. The bent-over screaming vision returned yet again as I made my way to the door. I could see the sun going lower in the sky as I opened the door and walked out into the late afternoon. Just normal.

An older brunette woman approached. I held the door open for her.

"Oh thank you!" She said, and smiled.

"Sure." I answered. I caught a subtle waft of her perfume as we passed. It was lovely. I took another sip of my coffee and walked to the truck.

"Just normal" was killing me.

*****

I got in the truck and sat down, putting the coffee in the cupholder and both hands on the steering wheel. I looked out onto Bethlehem Blvd. as the cars swept past. I didn't start the truck.

I wept.

The summer sun was setting. I lowered the visor and the vision of David's eyes returned - like jewels. I closed my eyes hard, searching for another image. No new vision came, but in the darkness of my mind, I heard David's voice.

"Come on, Dan."

I smiled and opened my eyes. A new image of my brother smiling formed. The afternoon sun moved a little lower in the clear summer sky. I started the truck and drove toward Bethlehem Blvd. As I turned, I raised the visor back up and turned on the radio.

Just normal.