Page 4 of A Taste of Grace

As the seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold in the Montgomery County hospital neared, Uncle Keith showed up as my one approved visitor. He pulled one of the heavy chairs beside my bed and squeezed my hand, which no longer required restraints. I squeezed it back, adding a faint smile despite being embarrassed that he had to see me in such a fragile mental state.

“What do you want to do, Grace?” Uncle Keith’s low, steady voice soothed me more than I expected.

I pressed several buttons on my remote to position my body upright in the bed and then shifted my back to get more comfortable. I gave him my full attention. For the first time, I realized how much his thick lips resembled my mother’s.

“The right answer is to get better, but the real answer is to be out of my misery.”

Unlike me, Uncle Keith didn’t have a poker face. His eyes bulged like he’d seen a ghost. I lifted my hands and shook my head.

“Not like that. I no longer want to die,” I said the words softly, still not comfortable admitting out loud that I had wanted to harm myself. “It’s just that I don’t know how to live without Mama or my job. I thought death would take my loneliness away.”

To my surprise, Uncle Keith leaned over the railing and received both of my hands in his. His touch triggered something in me, almost making me cry.

“Pain goes away.”

I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“I know. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, Grace. You would have left behind people who wanted more time with you.”

I chuckled, wanting to believe Uncle Keith but unable to trust his words. No one else cared whether I lived or died.

“Nobody cares about me. You’re here because of your loyalty to Mama, not me.”

“That’s not true.” Uncle Keith’s raised voice made me look him in the eye.

He lowered his head before speaking.

“I asked the hospital staff what I could and could not say to you. We agree it’s important for me to be truthful, so here goes.” Uncle Keith took a big breath. “Could I work with you to get better?”

Warmth touched my soul as I contemplated that question. As a single woman, I wasn’t used to having help, although I told myself that I desired it.

“I think so, but I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that I would have your back…like I should have had it all those years you took care of Pat. You did a good job.” Uncle Keith pursed his lips and smiled with his mouth closed.

My lip quivered as that unfamiliar yet recurring warmth overtook me again. Before Uncle Keith, only the hospice workers had said that to me.

For years, I cared for and wondered if I made the right choices with my mother as she battled a debilitating and rare neurological disorder. I often had to make quick decisions andfocus on minimizing her pain. It wasn’t easy to do, often from a distance, as I managed a large portfolio of work projects that required more attention than I had to give them. At one point, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to maintain the demands of my job and caregiving responsibilities. Only at the end of my mother’s life, when paramedics wheeled her out of the home my father left her, did I feel that I’d done right by her.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“You were a good steward, so I want to be one too. I have a plan if you’re serious about wanting to live.”

I nodded.

Over the past few days, my parents came to me in my dreams. Mama kept telling me to go on, and Daddy walked me down the aisle in an intimate wedding. Although I didn’t usually remember my dreams, those lingered. I cried each time I woke up. Since I didn’t want to forget their words, I wrote them in a small journal Patricia gave me.

“I think there’s more for me to do in my lifetime. As my nurse said, guardian angels surround me. You’re one of them.”

Uncle Keith blushed.

“You’ve been given a second chance, young lady. You have a lotta work to do on earth.”

Uncle Keith was right. I don’t know why I thought suicide was a good idea when I hated pain so much.

“I agree. I hope God gives me a family and kids so I can be a good mother like Mama.”

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