The Light [ON HOLD]

1.1.5

MEANWHILE

        An old man lay dying in a hospital in California.

        His heart monitor grew slower, and his family surrounded him, with the women weeping and the men staring stone faced. His wife sat by his side, holding his hand and closing her eyes, praying internally for his soul even though a priest had already issued his last rites.

        The old man's eyes opened, slowly, and he took a deep breath. He smiled. These were his last moments, after all. He lived a fantastic life, had a large family, started a successful business - he was going to die peacefully, happily. And he knew his family and friends would be happy too.

        "Eddie," his wife said quietly, tears spilling down her pale, wrinkled cheeks. "You aren't really leaving, are you?"

        "Of course not," said old Edward, weakly bringing her knuckles to his lips. "I'm going to stand right at the gates of Heaven, waiting for you."

        Terribly romantic, everyone thought, sighing. How terribly sad and romantic.

        Suddenly Edward felt a presence, one that was much different than the presences of the people around him. He turned his head to the side, staring at an empty corner of a room, his eyes widening. He tried to sit up, but a nurse quickly eased him back down.

        "Edward, dear," said his wife, worry washing across her wrinkled features. "What's wrong?" Their oldest daughter ran to her mother's side, hugging her.

        The old man kept his eyes on the corner, wriggling under the nurse's arms. "Lucy," he gasped. "Lucy!"

        "Edward!" cried his wife, breaking out of her daughter's grip and standing up, holding a hand to her heart. "Edward, tell me!"

        "Papa!" cried his daughters.

        "Dad!" cried his sons.

        "Edward!" cried his wife.

        "Mr. Hooper, please!" cried the nurse.

           "LUCY!" Edward boomed, his voice stronger than they had ever heard it, even in his youth. "LUCY, WAIT!"

        And he fell back onto the bed, taking his last breath, his soul leaving with it.

        Dead.

        The family was dumbfounded. Even his sobbing wife was too perplexed to make a sound.

        His youngest granddaughter tugged at her father's shirt as the nurse closed his wide eyes carefully. "Papa," she asked, voice small.

        "Who's Lucy?"