On My Deathbed - 1. On My Deathbed

My name is Frank Garnet. My friends called me Red. I guess because of my last name. You may as well do that too, for the short time we'll be together. I'm ninety-eight years old and know my days are numbered. It's not like I have a disease or anything; just that shit shuts down in your body when you get to be my age. My only son is dead. Hell, I've even outlived a grandson. Fucking drugs. My only surviving grandson lives halfway around the world in New Zealand. Spouse, siblings? Long gone as well. My lawyer knows what to do with my body when I'm done with it. I always liked to travel. Since I'll have no use for it, I've instructed him to cremate me and dump my ashes into an airplane toilet. He'll be paid handsomely, so he'd better damn well do it. I'm hoping the chunk of refuse I end up in will land on some anti-gay bigot's house and demolish the building. Killing the bigot as well, of course.

I brought up the drugs because my grandson overdosed after being demoralized by a bunch of homophobes. He's also the reason I hope to demolish some bigot's home. But I'm not bitter. Believe that and I bet you'd want to sniff my asshole too. Oh yeah, I'm crotchety as well. And you know what? I don't give a fuck if you care. Life sucks and then you die. Only the dying part has taken me forever. But that's okay, because while I'm not necessarily afraid of dying, I'm afraid of being dead. There is a difference. At least I think so.

I hope the dying part will simply be me going to sleep and not waking up. That would be my ideal way to go. See, in that case, I won't know that I'm dead. I see death like being a light bulb that burns out. One second there's light, and the next, nothing. I'm afraid of making that transition. Like, what happens? Do I just completely cease to be a thinking, breathing being? One second aware, the next, nothing? Unfortunately, that's what I believe. There have been a few times in my life where I've felt, why bother going on? As bad as things have gotten at times, becoming that burned out light bulb scares the shit out of me enough to continue the struggle.

So, here is one example of one of those rotten times. I'd just completed basic training after joining the Navy. I didn't have many other options after barely graduating high school. Anyway, I was assigned to a destroyer during what was called World War Two. In my opinion, a stupid name. Nearly every war has an impact on the entire world, so World War Three Million may have been more accurate. I was on the USS Kimberly, if you care to know. We were stationed outside of Okinawa; part of a small gaggle of ships sent to provide support to the air force. One bright summer day, the world turned to shit. The air was filed with Japanese Kamikaze planes. I watched as one after the other crashed into one of our battleships. Explosions were everywhere along its length. I suppose either one of the zeros had different instructions or simply missed its target. I could do nothing but stand there and watch as one headed directly toward our A-Position Deck Gun. If that wasn't bad enough, my best friend on the ship was stationed there that day. He saw the zero too late. He was diving away when the Kamikaze hit. Never had a chance. You may remember the part in the movie 'The Rock' where Goodspeed tells FBI Director Womack that Mason was vaporized? Yeah, that's not something I ever wanted to see again. One second Aaron was there, the next, there was no trace of him.

Between that, and having nearly everyone I ever knew die before me, each death taking a small part of me with it, there were plenty of opportunities for depression to take hold. But I soldiered on, pun intended, even though I was in the Navy. Okinawa wasn't my only experience with death in the Navy. I spent twenty years on board ships and submarines. Even outside of wartime, bad shit happens. I witnessed somewhere around fifteen deaths first-hand during my time in the service. Not a single one easier to handle than the last. But we have to carry on, don't we?

I spoke about my son before. I suppose I should correct a minor inaccuracy. Barry was actually a stepson. He was nearly fully grown when I married his mother after I retired from the service. Doesn't make him any less my son. If you've never had a blended family, you may not understand that, but it's true. I started my family late in life. I met Penny on leave about a year and a half before I mustered out. We wed two months after I retired. Barry was my best man. Hell, after twenty years in the service, I didn't know many civilians yet.

Thankfully, Barry was nearly forty when his mother died of a heart attack. I'd known some of the families of my brothers in arms who died young. Dying young tears up the family something awful. I was almost forty myself when my Dad died. It hurt, but watching the young children of my friends upon their parent's deaths. Well, just one reason why I'm glad practically all of my family and friends are gone. I don't need to cause anyone more grief than life already hands them.

So, here I lie in a hospital bed, slowly feeling greater levels of pain. One kidney has already shut down and the other is half necrotized. That’s dead if you didn’t know. I didn’t smoke, but one lung is useless. Pneumonia, not cancer, but what’s the difference? It doesn’t work right. And I was wrong at the start. It’s not my days that are numbered. I realize now it’s my hours that are dribbling away to nothing. My hope of dying in my sleep is pretty much gone. I can’t sleep because of the pain. They could give me painkillers, but they also say too much of that will kill me. I want to hang onto every moment I can. That light bulb, you know.

I hope I’m wrong about there being nothing else. I’m a determined old bastard, so if I can let you all know there’s something else, I’ll damn well try. I’m not confide…..

Oh, fuck that hurt. I think my right kidney finally gave out. Either that or Claude Raines stabbed me with an invisible knife. Shit. It’s getting darker, but the sun is still shining, the lights in my room are lit. The darkness is closing in on me. I think this is it for me. I’ll be back if I ca…

The End