Leaves of Autumn

I based this off of my grandmother's death. She was a pillar in my family.

Jack Wilder listened to the slow, muffled beeping of the machine next to his bed as he watched the ceiling fan spin above him. The useless hearing-aids in his ears made it difficult for him to hear anything, so he just listened to all the muffled noises around him. He didn't like to look around much because it only confused him more. People walking in and out and back and forth throughout the day. Some people sitting next to him and crying or talking to him and laughing about God knows what. Everything was a blur. His used-to-be-green eyes were now a pale blue and his skin hung from his bones like his body couldn't withstand the force of gravity anymore. Many days he would find himself watching the tree outside his hospital room window. Over the months that he had resigned in the room, the tree had lost much of its grandeur; it was growing weaker as winter crept upon it, its branches bending in protest and only a few brown leaves still barely gripping onto the tree that gave it life. But it remained a constant in the function of chaos.

            One day, a few people walked into his room and sat around him, placing their hands on him at times or holding his hands. He sometimes felt happy about it, like he was glad these strangers were in his room, talking to him and paying him some sort of attention. But most of the time, he was sad. He always felt lost, always felt like he needed to be somewhere, doing something; he just didn't know what that something was. He looked around at these people's faces. Two women and a child. And he wanted to smile at them, but he found no reason to. So he looked from them to the tree, his breath coming in slow waves.

* * *

            “Or when dad convinced you that he had forgotten your anniversary, and when I came home from school that day, I could hear Carly Simon all the way down the sidewalk,” Lucy said as she smiled. She tightened her grip on her father's hand as she sat next to his bedside, peering at her mom who sat on the opposite side of the bed with both of her hands placed delicately on his arm.

            Her mom smiled as she laughed and nodded, saying, “You're So Vain.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes.

            The room filled with laughter as Lucy's daughter smiled obliviously, holding onto the edge of the hospital bed as she stood on her tiptoes to get a decent look at her granddad.

            Lucy watched her child. The young girl's innocent, ignorant eyes and accepting smile were enough to take Lucy out of the reality of the brittle world she was so heavily dwelling in for an unnoticed moment. The sound of laughter dissipated into her mother's quiet sobs. Lucy stroked her father's hand, taking in his sunken cheeks and pale face as her own eyes began to water.

            They sat and watched him, clinging to every single beep of the monitor and every rise and fall of his chest. This man was a giant made small by the reality of mortality. His shoulders, on which he carried the world, were once strong and durable. Yet, here lay Atlas, weak and unresponsive.

            The final leaves of autumn shed from the tree outside Jack's window, and his family exited the hospital room.

Author's Note

I'd like to know what you think about the tree as that one consistent thing in the dying man's life. Does it get the point across?

Reviews

[rickm97]

Nice job. My wife died of cancer in our home back in January. I had a hospital bed brought in to the living room where it was easier to take care of her. From her bed she could look out the back windows, out into the back pasture where there is a cedar elm tree growing. When we moved her years ago it was only a sapling, maybe four scrawny feet high. The day she died it stood close to twenty feet in height...
...and it was barren of leaves.

Thank you for the wonderful job.

[Mia]

Wow that is truly an amazing coincidence. That is exactly the kind of symbolism and realism I was trying to portray in this story. Thank you so much for your review. I'm terribly sorry for your loss. God bless.

[Susana Grace]

This is seriously nice.Keep up the good work!

[kitkat]

I think this was amazing! I could really relate to this cause my grandad passed away last year, and I was thinking of him while I read this. It really captured me. It was brilliant!

[Captain Rilen]

Is the metaphor of the tree to represent the lack of normal connection (normality) caused by Jack's time in the hospital? Is it to do with the passage of time and the inevitable passing of one's life? If not I'm intrigued and would love to hear the point which it gets across. Another fabulous piece of writing, sad and still beautifully written...

[Mia]

The tree is something Jack can relate to because, like him, the tree is also dying. Also, the tree is always there, and its something that Jack can rely on to still be there in this time during his fading memory and chaotic world.

"But it remained a constant in the function of chaos."

The quote above was used to convey to the readers that this tree was probably the only stable thing in Jack's life. Thank you for reading. It is greatly appreciated.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the use of trees. Nature and places are part of us. I enjoyed the complete story. Led the reader to a strong ending.
"The final leaves of autumn shed from the tree outside Jack's window, and his family exited the hospital room."
A strong closing to the powerful story.
Coyote

[Mia]

Thank you, sir. Did you understand that the old man died? Or should I try to convey that more?

[Coyote Poetry]

I did. I believe you said enough. The season of fall and release of the leaves. Explain the ending.

[Mia]

Thank you :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.