On my twenty-second birthday, the ER was finished, fully stocked, and open for business. And, on that same day, they had a patient...
Donna and Grandpa Kevin found Bryce unconscious in the garage, breathing shallow. They carried him into the ER. But by the time Leslie examined the poor dog, he was dead.
I cried like a baby. Bryce's death was a shock. His ageing was so gradual, I hadn't realized he had become eighty-four in dog years.
We held no wake, there was no eulogy, and no one played music in his honor. But Uncle Peter and I did make a funeral pyre for him. We placed Bryce's body on top, soaked the structure in lighter fluid, and lit it. Soon, the pyre was an intense mound of flame and billowing smoke.
An hour later, it started to rain. The drops were big and lazy, falling in slow motion, splattering on the dry, loose dirt, encouraging earthy smells to rise up. It soon became a gloomy day, fitting my mood perfectly.
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Fifteen days later, on October 1st of the 11th year, Uncle Peter began to have pain in his side similar to the painful "stitch" Grandma Maud felt when she fell ill. Over the next two days, the pain spread and worsened. Uncle Peter became dizzy and nauseated. Fortunately, Demerol and marijuana helped considerably.
It became increasingly obvious Uncle Peter was suffering from the same ailment that killed his mother. It was an unlikely coincidence, and we surmised it was an inherited disorder. Not knowing its true name, we called it "Stitch Disease".
For the first time since the peak, Uncle Peter was bedridden. The next day, he was much worse, and his breathing became labored. Aunt Roxanne and Leslie put him on oxygen. As the hours passed, Uncle Peter became more and more miserable. His face became sunken and his eyes turned red. His clammy skin was streaming sweat from every pore. He realized his life was slipping away, and he started to cry, wail, and complain incessantly.
Then his blood pressure dropped, and delirium set in. He spent the next hour cursing incoherently at the people who were trying to keep him alive. Then, without warning, he stopped... Stopped talking, stopped moving, stopped breathing.
I wish I could say Uncle Peter's last words were something kindhearted like: "Tell my children I love them." Or something noble like, "Protect everyone smaller than you." Or something funny like: "If they put me on a stamp, tell them to use the young Peter." Or something personal like: "I have been, and always shall be, your friend." Or something self-deprecating like: "Who's the world going to revolve around now?" Or something poetic like: "Soon all that is me will be lost forever. Like tears in the rain."... But Peter Kardon had no last words.
For the first ten minutes, I was inconsolable. Then I pulled myself together. Uncle Peter had been grooming me for years to take over his leadership position. And now, the community needed me. I had to remind myself I wasn't a scared eleven-year-old girl anymore. I was a grown, twenty-two-year-old woman. I washed my face and threw myself into the role of community leader. While others grieved, I constructed a funeral pyre out of logs. By the time I was done, it was time for the eulogy. Mom read it on the CB radio, so it would broadcast to Jodi's room, Tabitha's house, Dr. Harman's houseboat, and Jessica's room.
After the eulogy, Great-Uncle Ellis and Dad wrapped Uncle Peter's body up in the bedsheet he had died on. Then they moved him to the stretcher. Garry, aged six, helped me roll out Uncle Peter's body and place it reverently on the funeral pyre. The sun was setting as I soaked the large stack of wood in lighter fluid. The western sky turned beautiful shades of orange and red as the rest of the world darkened. I lit the pyre. The wood was unusually dry, and the fire quickly spread. Soon, it was a glorious tower of swirling flame and intense heat.
From the house, we could hear Sarah on her saxophone, Vanessa and Valerie on their violins, Kim on her cello, Carly on her flute, Warren on his trumpet, Sandra on her harp, and Leslie on her oboe. They beautifully played "Binary Sunset", the sad medley from Star Wars.
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