The Near end of the Tunnel
When I was younger I went to see the double features a lot. The ratty corner movie house, with the chipped popcorn counters and sticky theater floors seemed like heaven to me. The flickering screens would transport me to strange and vibrant worlds for a few hours every Saturday afternoon. There was nothing better to my child's eyes.
I went so often that, even now, nearly seventy years later, I can still conjure the musty odor of wet carpet just by closing my eyes. I can still see the smiling face of grey-haired Mr. Davies as he took my ticket-stub in his stubby, wrinkly fingers.
"You enjoy the show, now, Tommy. I hear it's a good one."
"Thanks, Mr. Davies."
As I grew older, I moved on to other activities, sports and girls mostly, but I never forgot the movies. The "Tommy" years melted into "Tom", which passed quickly into a short stint as "Thomas", and then slipped immediately into the "Honey", "Dad", and "Mr. Smith" era. Now, apparently, I am in the "Q-tip" stage of my life, or so my granddaughter, Josie, likes to tell me. She likes to tease that I looked like a Q-tip from behind when I used to drive a car. She's silly.
Josie and her husband visit me a lot. Last year, I fell and broke my right hip and now it is hard for me to walk. My family moved me into "Cedar Plank Retirement Community", a huge hotel-style building full of other people my age.
At first I was incensed. I'd been independent my whole life. Having someone else dictate where I will live and the confines of my life was humiliating and upsetting. But my new neighbors are very nice, and the on-staff nurses are great if I need help with anything, which seems to be happening more and more frequently. I guess my body is just wearing out on me.
I can't really complain though. Hundreds of years ago people only lived to age thirty, and here I am, nearing my eighty-fifth birthday. And I've filled those extra fifty-some years with some wonderful memories. I've traveled the world and seen many majestic vistas and natural phenomenon; I've walked with lions in Zimbabwe and ridden camels in Egypt; I've cruised on the Caribbean and walked in the Amazon rain forest; I've ridden the Maid of the Mist at Niagara Falls and slept at a bed and breakfast on Prince Edwards Island.
My fondest memories, though, are of my family. I have a lot of children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. They have filled my life with joy and love throughout the years and I would be so lonely without them.
Most of my friends have passed away over the last few years, which has caused me to consider my own mortality. I don't regret my life, nor fear my death, I have been blessed in many ways, but attending funerals every few months for several years is still depressing. My family helps keep me centered and positive. Josie is especially great. She visits me once or twice a week.
And any change in my routine is good. It hurts too much to move around so most of my time is spent sitting in my room, watching the movies I loved as a boy replayed on digitally re-mastered television, whatever that means. The movies bring back fond memories and make me miss my youth. Josie and her husband remind me what I've gained by getting older.
My love of movies is often tempered by their content though. Today is especially tough. The movies seem to have a lot of death in them. I just saw one called Harold and Maude. It was about a teenage boy and an elderly woman who fell in love. The boy had to cope with the woman's death. It was a very depressing movie, especially for someone my age. I wish Josie would stop by. I feel very alone right now.
I want to talk to someone, anyone, rather than just sit here and be depressed. I pull myself to my feet using the edge of the armchair. A sharp pain lances through my hip causing me to flinch and waver on my feet. I shuffle out the door and into the hallway. I don't see anyone so I decide that I should go downstairs to the common room.
"Oh!" I gasp as my foot misses the first step and I find myself plummeting face-forward over the edge.
I open my eyes and look around. Disoriented, it takes me a moment to realize that what I am seeing is the pop-corned ceiling above me. I can hear voices in the background shouting. Heavy footfalls clump nearby. Whispers come from several places around me. I don't understand what is going on. Why am I lying on the floor?
I try to sit up but my arms and legs don't seem to be responding well. Maybe I'll just rest here for a moment longer. Silhouettes appear all around me, cast in shadow by the fluorescent lights above them.
"What's going on?" I ask. No one seems to hear me; or at least no one responds to me if they do.
I lick my lips, swallow, and ask a little louder, and receive the same result - no answer.
The shadowed people around me seem to drift backwards a little and I can now see that they are standing in front of an entrance of some sort. The opening leads into a dark tunnel, pitch as the night. At the far end of the tunnel I can see a white dot of light.
I close my eyes and sigh with understanding. This must be it. I hadn't expected it be like this; a dark tunnel in the air. I'm not sure what I had expected, something brighter perhaps. I guess I hadn't really thought about it. I suppose a tunnel is as good as anything else.
I think back on my life. Am I really ready? Images of places, and people, and family flood through me. Happy memories. I can't seem to recall any unhappy ones, and yet, for some reason, that doesn't seem odd at all. My body seems to be infused with pure joy. I'm practically tingling with memories.
My eyes sparkle as a huge grin escapes on my lips. I sit up and climb easily to my feet. My hip doesn't hurt for the first time in over a year. I stretch my fingers and feel no pull of the mild arthritis that has plagued me for half my life.
The people around me come into focus as the lights shift out of my eyes. Josie and her husband! And my sons and daughters! My grandchildren! My entire family is surrounding me in a blanket of warm bodies. I study each of their faces in turn. I can't believe that they are here. The end is not going to be lonely like I had expected. They are all smiling as I turn and take the first bold steps into the near end of the tunnel.