Day 3 of October Nano Prep Challenge

Hannah lets go of Henry’s hand. She stands up from where she was seated by his bed. She softly brushes her hand along the side of his face, wrinkled and stubbly. She gazes down at him for a few more moments before turning away to leave the room as the tears well up in her eyes. She pushes them back just long enough to walk to Edna, seated on Henry’s other side. She leans over and hugs her tightly before leaving to give them some time alone.

Hannah has been a nurse for almost ten years now. She somehow thought in the beginning that losing her elderly patients would become easier. She thought maybe she’d become tough or numb or more used to the fact that death is a natural part of life, but she hasn’t. Henry was as ready to die as a person can be. He was 90 years old and lived a life filled with the love of family. But Hannah still felt deeply sorry for those who were graced with his love: his kids and grandkids and especially Edna. She just lost her lifelong companion.

Hannah enjoyed asking her silver-haired patients how they met their significant other. She loved to watch their eyes get glittery and the smiles sneak across their faces. Even those whose spouses had passed before them always seemed to enjoy sharing this memory. Edna was sitting by Henry’s side, knitting away at a beautiful midnight blue blanket, when he told their story to Hannah.

Hannah stood by Henry’s bed with her basin of warm soapy water, gently washing his hair as he spoke. Henry first saw Edna standing outside The Drake Hotel in Chicago. A taxicab driver had just unloaded her luggage onto the sidewalk and was pulling away. Henry was walking by and saw that Edna was struggling to carry her bags. He saw that a doorman was coming from inside the hotel to help her, but he gave the doorman a quick shake of his head to shoo him away. Edna laughed when he told this part.

Hannah towel-dried Henry’s hair and began to style it the way she knows he likes it (“Make me look like Clark Gable!”) as he continued his story. He recalled how he rushed to Edna’s side, lifted the bags and insisted on helping her to her room. As she was checking in and the clerk asked her name, he repeated “Edna” under his breath, so happy to know the name of this beautiful woman before him. He walked by her side to her room, doing his best to make his work seem light. Henry is a bit of a slight man so carrying Edna’s bags probably wasn’t much more easy for him than it was for her. Edna laughed again and said he seemed a bit winded by the time they reached her room. Henry guffawed in reply, shouting “That’s only because you took my breath away!”

Hannah couldn’t help but giggle a bit when she saw Henry’s face begin to turn red as he recounted how it became awkward once they reached Edna’s room. He did not want their time together to be over but said he, of course, did not want an invite to come in (“We didn’t do things like that so early in relationships in my day.”) So he stammered through a goodbye and began to walk hurriedly back down the hallway, cursing a bit under his breath at his foolishness. When he reached the end of the hallway he stood looking out the window there for a few moments, unable to enter the stairwell. He felt sick to his stomach and knew that he was making a huge mistake in leaving. So he spun around and ran back to her room and was a few paces away when she peeked her head out of the door. She let out a surprised little yelp and smiled sweetly when she saw him. He slowed to a stop, asked her if she would like to meet for afternoon tea, she accepted, and “the rest is history, as they say!”




Hannah returns to Henry’s room after the rest of his family has come and gone. They’ve said their goodbyes one more time. They’ll say them again in the coming days at his visitation and burial. So many goodbyes.

Hannah lets her tears flow freely now as she does the final cleansing and shrouding of his frail body for transport to the funeral home. Edna would like his blue blanket to be cremated with him. Hannah wraps it lovingly around him, as if she’s tucking him in for bed like she has been for his weeks here. She slips on his favorite wool socks before doing the final tuck around his feet. Then she reaches for a tissue and stands at the end of his bed, wiping away her tears and waiting for the telltale redness in her face to fade before moving on to care for her other patients. She never wants them to know if she’s been crying.

And like she’s been doing every night since the day she met him 5 weeks ago, just before she goes to leave the room she turns and shines her warm smile upon him and says, “Goodnight, Henry.”