The gentle old man

Each night when we cared for the old man he would clap his hands over ours and smile. It was the only thing he had left to give. He was near the end of life but when giving his meds, cleaning him or at any point of contact he would clap his hands over ours, smile and move with excitement. There was nothing left that he could do. He appeared to not be able to see or talk. Finally one day he was gone. His bed was empty. There was only once or twice brief conversations to reminisce about his tender efforts to show his appreciation and love. He had been exceptional in these gestures, significant and clearly understood. About three months after his passing in the quiet of the graveyard shift, all sitting at the nurses station, from his empty room came the pinging or a call light from an unoccupied bed, his. A chill came over me. The hair on my arms arose. One of the four went to his room to confirm it was empty. Then a pleasant memory of a gentile old man who in his last days did show love and appreciation in the only way he could. For me a pleasant, reassuring memory.