Gordon's last words to his daughter before his death on April 5th 2010.
Previous Version
This is a previous version of The Last Words of Gordon.
Big, fat droplets of water bombarded the hospital as the dark sky flashed with streaks of white lightning. The roads gleamed as headlights from the lines of cars nearby shone on the wet gravel.
The rain had unleashed her relentless storm for nearly an hour now. Drains were threatening to overflow, and unfortunate pedestrians tried to cover their exposed form with flimsy purses or briefcase.
Helen Haley watched this depressing scene from the window and sighed heavily.The raindrops hit the windowpanes and blurred her view, yet she seemed to just stare past it, eyes glazed and unfocused. Behind her, she could still hear the rhythmic beeping of medical instruments.
What a depressing day, she thought as she pulled the covers closed. It's barely six and already it's nighttime.
She returned to her seat: a small wooden chair set right next to the bed of her sickly husband.
Gordon Haley's skin was pale and wrinkly, as though it had once been stretched over a much larger and muscular man, but now hung limply against his scrawny and feeble frame. His small chest rose and fell laboriously, fighting for every breath of precious air. His eyes were closed, and his mouth twisted in a grumpy scowl. Here was a man who was stubborn and unhappy of his predicament.
Helen reached out with one hand and held onto her husband's, while the other stroked the few strands of hair on his head softly.
Gordon opened his one of his eyes, still scowling, and looked at the direction of his wife. 'I hope you actually slept last night.' He said hoarsely to her, making every effort to speak clearly. His thumb moved, and rubbed against her hand. His eyes, though, seem to stare right through her.
Helen smiled, and she pulled away from him for a second, leaning down to retrieve her bag. She reached into it and pulled out a small sound recorder. 'Do you want to do it now?' She asked, putting it into his hand and guiding his thumb to the button with the red dot.
'Yes, I think I should do it now.' Was his reply. His hands explored the new device in his hand for a moment, fiddling around for buttons as his eyes, now both open, stared at the wall right in front of him.
Finally, with a press of a button, he began:
I'm feeling a bit better tonight, the new drugs are working wonders on the pain. I think your mother secretly thinks it also helped my newfound temper as well. Hah!
It's hard for me to breathe, and I barely have the strength to talk now. I... I'm scared that I wouldn't have another chance to say what I want to you when you arrive tomorrow...
So your mother suggested I record this down now, while I can still ramble, and give it to you first thing in the morning.
Well, here goes.
Well, first I think I need to establish that I miss my hair. Yes, how I do miss it. Chemotherapy taking it away is kinda sad, and I miss how my hair was on top on my head, just being there.
...
Your mother thinks I should stop making these lame jokes about my missing hair. Personally, I thought my attempt at humor was quite fi- Ow! that hurt, Helen.
But your mother is right, as always.
Okay, focus. I'm focused.
I'm not really used to talking about this mushy stuff, so I'm only going to say this once; Pay attention!
Let's see, where should I begin?
I remember holding you when you were born. You were tiny then, bawling out with your tiny lungs and not stopping. You'd stay up all night just to cry, and it would drive your mother and I up the wall.
Well, by some miracle we all managed to survive 'till you were 4 years old. It was kinda funny, how you changed from a loud baby to a sweet, quiet little girl.
You had to wear those huge glasses then, and you used to be so proud of them when you first got them. Somehow, they also made you quite the little scientists. You constantly pestered us with questions of 'why?', 'how', what?', and you'd stare at any mystery for a long while, as though hoping that the answer might reveal itself if you just look at it long enough…
Your mother and I still keep the photo of your first day to school. We were so proud of you when you walked through the school gates. Your mother especially braided your hair nicely just so you'd look extra nice.
And then… the accident. We spent weeks of sleepless nights; your mother praying, while I would just hold onto your little hands and just stare…
The doctors prognosis were... grim, and the choices given to us weren't much. Your mother still cries sometimes when she thinks about it. Hell, even I do.
Still... you survived, and the entire family thanked God for that. You still spent months in the hospital, going through therapy. My job didn't really rake in the money needed to pay the bills, so I worked other jobs, and borrowed money from your grandmother, which she still wouldn't take back, even today… God Bless her.
After therapy, and a new prosthetic, you went back to school. The first few years were torture for you. You were terribly behind, and it didn't help that the kids your age… weren't very nice.
School wasn't easy for you. You were constantly being bullied, we knew that. I remember you trying to put up a brave front, telling us about how many friends you've made, but then I'd spot a tear here, maybe a dirty spot or a odd tear on your uniform where you "tripped". It really broke our hearts, seeing you trying to be happy just for us.
Well, fast-forward another 5 years, and now you're 12. You started having some real friends, and were becoming an overachiever. Then, you began dabbling a bit in romance. Ah, yes, you had a crush on the boy who sat next to you in Chemistry.
I remember how we spent the night lecturing you on how you should be focusing on your studies instead of this romance nonsense. We would keep on fighting about it until you finally asked: "Why is there an age limit for love?"
Ha, I still can't answer your question, even today.
Still, life goes on, and you graduated to one of the better secondary schools with excellent grades. We've fought about which school you should go to: You wanted to go to a school where most of your friends were going, but I was adamant that you went to the best schools. In protest, you threw a tantrum and refused to speak to me for two days. That kept me up some nights, that did.
We eventually reconciled, but I recall you looking at me with defiant eyes and saying: "One day, you're going to say I made the right choice, and then you're going to treat me to ice-cream."
Amongst older and more mature peers, you were better accepted, but still; new school, new teachers, new people, and thus new reactions. I remember you coming home once and telling us about that bitchy girl in your class and how she and her clique tried to make school life miserable for you.
I also remember how you and your friends got revenge by throwing blue paint down on them. that landed all of you in a few week's worth of detention. It was heartening to see your friends stick by you throughout it all.
I guess going to a school where your friends were was a good idea after all….
Heh, I still haven't bought you that ice-cream, haven't I, honey?
Well, your teenage years were… difficult sometimes. God knows the number of times you'd go into mood swings, and how you'd lock yourself in your room. We tried playing the bossy and intrusive parents card, get you to open up, but you'd just shake your head and stomp off.
Still, you did many things we were generally very proud of you of. I still keep that letter from the grateful old man you spent a week helping out as part of a community service thing at school. Your class had only needed to help out at the old-folks home for a day, but you kept coming back after that. You were inspired by the people, you said, and you wanted to help them. You became a volunteer, and spent a good part of Sunday mornings and afternoons there, not to mention a good chunk of the holidays.
Well, another 5 years passed, and now you're onto university, taking a degree in Primary Health Care. Unorthodox, according to some people, due to you being a bit different, and thus more unnerving. Still, you pressed on, and your impressive credentials as volunteer worker really paid off. I could still see you wearing that ridiculous square hat as you made your way up the stage and accepted that certificate.
Your mother and I positively glowed that day. Do you remember seeing us beaming like idiots amongst the crowd? I remember shaking some random stranger by the shoulder and pointing you out. "That's my daughter." I'd say.
During all of this, you also found love.
Who would've have thought the guy who sat next to you during class in primary school would be dating you at age 16?
Far too young, I thought, and I was tempted to get a chance to have a private talk with him… Heh, I was kinda afraid you'd have your heart broken. But you two held fast, and never loosened.
Still, that doesn't mean I won't give him the stink eye every time he visits the house for dinner.
I bet that must have made him very uncomfortable. Ha... ha!
Bah, it's getting late, and I need to finish this.
Well, here you are, aged 22, engaged to Harvey, working as an excellent physiologist, helping out the kids and old people who are in the same boat as you. Your mother and I… Well, we had thought losing your leg would break your spirit, just as how it nearly did ours. But you are truly so much more stronger than we thought.
If ever you have any doubts before, know this, honey: We are… I am… so proud of you.
I'm trying to express Gordon's emotions as best as I can relying solely on his message to his daughter. Grammar is not an issue (I hope), as I really just like some input on the story as a whole in terms of expressing feelings and atmosphere.
but really, I just hope you enjoy the story. :)
One thing that jumps out at me right away is that there was no revision done on this piece. Sometimes your your grammar is slightly off... something that could have been fixed by a critical revision.
The only part I can say that I enjoyed somewhat was the recording sequence, the writing seemed more honest to me. The setting of the scene before this part seemed to me to be extremely over-written. In most cases you have used 20 words where 5 would have done better, all in an attempt to write stylistically. Always remember that style comes with simplicity.
The other thing that caught my eye that you could use a lot less of is your reliance on adverbs to describe situations. eg: "'I hope you actually slept last night.' He said hoarsely"... It would add a lot more weight and clarity to your writing if you instead said : 'I hope you actually slept last night.' he said, clearing his throat.
I don't claim to be an expert but the best crit I have ever received is what I am giving you now. As writers we don't post our work so we can hear how fantastic it is but rather to improve our craft. Don't be discouraged... it is all part of the process. Otherwise, well done and I hope my advice will help you out.
One thing that jumps out at me right away is that there was no revision done on this piece. Sometimes your your grammar is slightly off... something that could have been fixed by a critical revision.
The only part I can say that I enjoyed somewhat was the recording sequence, the writing seemed more honest to me. The setting of the scene before this part seemed to me to be extremely over-written. In most cases you have used 20 words where 5 would have done better, all in an attempt to write stylistically. Always remember that style comes with simplicity.
The other thing that caught my eye that you could use a lot less of is your reliance on adverbs to describe situations. eg: "'I hope you actually slept last night.' He said hoarsely"... It would add a lot more weight and clarity to your writing if you instead said : 'I hope you actually slept last night.' he said, clearing his throat.
I don't claim to be an expert but the best crit I have ever received is what I am giving you now. As writers we don't post our work so we can hear how fantastic it is but rather to improve our craft. Don't be discouraged... it is all part of the process. Otherwise, well done and I hope my advice will help you out.
Hi,
I'm a guy who's trying his hands at writing again after a three-year-spell. I like to learn new things all the time, and am a fan of speculative fiction. Epic Fantasies, Sci-Fi, Alternate History.. more..