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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1419871-A-Question-of-Balance
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by RatDog Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Cultural · #1419871
One man enters, one man leaves...
April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. "Oh Daddy, it's so good to see you! It's a beautiful day! We love you so much! The sun is shining and the gods are smiling on you! It's so great to be here in this wonderful world, I'm so glad we are all a part of this circle of life! I just want to thank you for..."

Her daughter May, walking alongside, well along in her pregnancy, tries to restrain her exuberance: "Cool it with the flowers and the hippie-love crap, Mom! You're not back in time at a Phish concert."

April's older sister June, who had arrived earlier, chimes in her two cents worth: "Oh leave her alone, May. And although I might not be as vocal in expressing my emotions, I happen to agree wholeheartedly with your mother, it is a day to celebrate! And I think the flowers on the walkway are a nice touch, much more eloquent than my palm fronds."

"Hey, can't an old man get a word in edgewise?" I say.

"Sure thing, Daddy-O," April replies as she touches my chin, poking fun at my grey goatee.

"You girls have been the greatest blessing in my life. And May, I'm sure your grandmother would be proud of you if she were here today..." I say, holding back a tear. (Although her health was failing, it still hurts to remember how she agreed to go first when June's grandson was born.)

"It's all for the best," I continued on. "There's only so much food to go around, as they say, only so much oil in the ground."

April takes my hand, and we walk the flower-strewn path to her aging Prius for the ride to the Life Center. "Do you need help with the door, Dad?"

"Back in the old days I drove a full size Chevy Blazer. I think I can handle getting in to this little thing!" I reply, playing the "crotchety old man" role for the girls.

As we're driving, May asks "Are you sure you're OK with this, Grandpa?"

I only think about my choice for a split second.
Either my granddaughter gets a partial birth abortion and I live on until something eventually kills me; or she has her baby and I get the needle.

Is there really any question?

"May, I've had a pretty good life, no sense in being greedy. And although I'd love to live forever, we all have a duty to make room for the next generation, right?" I say, choosing to go gently into that long night.

"Thanks Gramps, you're the greatest!" May says. "And don't you worry; you'll get to see my boy before they put you down, the doctors promised!"

word count: 457
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