Life after death

TEN DAYS BEFORE MY FATHER DIED, he suffered a small stroke and fell. Or perhaps he fell and then had the stroke. Either way, it surprised me when people asked what was the cause of death. I mean, he was 98! Wasn’t that cause enough? I visited him shortly after his fall,

I visited him shortly after his fall, flew down from New York with Amy and Hugh. Gretchen and Paul met us at Springmoor, but he was essentially gone by then. There was a livid gash on his forehead, and he was propped up in his bed, which seemed ridiculously short, like a cut-down one you’d see in a department store. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and behind his lips swayed a glistening curtain of spittle.

“Dad?” Amy said.

An aide entered and shook his leg. “Mr Sedaris? Lou? You got some family here to see you.” She looked at us, then back at our father. “He pretty much be this way now.” Another shake of the leg. “Mr Sedaris?”

In response our father gasped for breath.

“Well, he looks good,” Amy said, pulling a chair up to his bedside. Who is she comparing him to?, I wondered. Google “old man dying”, and I’m pretty sure you’ll see exactly what was in front of us: an unconscious skeleton with just a little meat on it, moaning.

You always think that if you gather round and really concentrate, the person on the bed will let go. We were all there, you imagine yourself saying to friends. And in an odd way, it was sort of beautiful. So you become solemn and silently sit, watching the chest unsteadily rise and fall. You look at the hands as they occasionally stir, doing some imaginary last-minute busywork. The oxygen tube slips, and though you think of readjusting it, you don’t, because, well, it has snot on it. Better to save it for an aide, you tell yourself. After 20 or so minutes your sister Gretchen steps outside. Then Hugh leaves the room, followed by Paul. You go out yourself and find them all gathered in the open-air courtyard, seated in rocking chairs, Gretchen lighting a cigarette. “Did I tell you we’re not allowed to say native