I’m not making this up. For one thing, there are limits to my imagination. For another, there are limits to how long you can ask a reader to suspend disbelief.
I had heard through the family grapevine that my uncle was very ill and had been admitted to hospice. My uncle, my father’s youngest brother, was a wonderful man but we were not close. My father moved his entire family to Fort Lauderdale in the mid-60’s while my uncle stayed in Cleveland with his family, so our visits were infrequent at best.
It just so happened I was scheduled for a business trip to Cleveland when my uncle went into hospice, so I determined to visit him one last time. I dismissed as unworthy my regret that I would also have to see my aunt and my cousin.
My uncle’s wife and son, not to put too fine a point on it, are idiots. My aunt is high-strung, high-maintenance and very emotional. My cousin, at the age of 60, is unemployed, unmarried and still lives in his boyhood room with his comic books under the bed and his model cars on the bookcase. My cousin is also a technology geek, who spends his time buying the latest cell phones, computers, cameras and I-pods.
I arrived at the hospice center at the designated day and time with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My cousin had sent me a text message that my uncle had just been disconnected from life support and that “it was only a matter of time.” I was, quite honestly, sorry that I had planned a trip to Cleveland or ever contacted my aunt in the first place.
My uncle was in a coma and did not look good – but who does when they’re in a coma? My aunt was hysterical but my cousin was composed. As I went to the bed to pay my respects I was considerably startled when a camera flashed behind me. I turned instinctively in time to hear my cousin say “Smile!” and snap another picture of me and my uncle.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been so horrified. Before I could respond, however, my cousin had shoved my weeping aunt next to me, said brightly, “Say cheese!” and snapped a picture of the three of us. Digital camera in hand, he said, “It’s a good one!” and showed me the picture he had just taken. My cousin then gave me the camera and said, “Take one of me and my dad!”
I tried to refuse, but my cousin would not take “no” for an answer so I hurriedly took the picture and tried to return the camera. My cousin, however, had other ideas, and he pulled his mother to him again and said, “Now, take a family photo!”
Feeling strongly that this situation was in questionable taste, I took the picture at the exact moment that the duty nurse walked into the room. She sized up the situation at a glance, gave me the most contemptuous look that I have ever had aimed at me and said, “What kind of people are you?” My cousin tried to give her the camera and said, “Will you take a group shot?” but she fled.
So did I. My uncle lingered for another couple of hours before he passed peacefully. My family did not believe this story until my cousin emailed them copies of the hospice photos. I tried to tell them that I did not make this up. I have the pictures to prove it.