My cell phone is glued to my ear as I stroll into HOSPICE ... which certainly is a sin ... but we've been talking for half-an-hour and he's sharing important things ... so I'm in the awkward position of listening to him pour out his heart while lots of people with serious things on their minds are staring at me ... and I can feel what they're thinking ... and it's not nice.
"Hey," I say into the phone in front of the receptionist who's consoling several crying women, "I gotta go. I'm at Hospice."
"OH!" he exclaims. "Go be you man!"
"Thanks," I say hanging up walking into room 7.
I haven't been to Hospice since my Dad died so ... maybe I was blessedly on the phone to not deal with the emotion of coming back ... regardless ... opening the door there's my friend Art.
His mouth's open and his eyes are looking at something far, far away but when he sees me the glaze vanishes and he kicks his legs.
"War Damn Eagle," I say not meaning it at all but ... well, I do love Art so I tell him what he wants to hear.
Immediately salt water fills my eyes as I watch him try with every ounce of strength inside to say something to me ... but he can't.
His wife falls in my arms and we share salt water.
She can't speak either ... beats her head on my shoulder ... keeps asking "Why?" ... and the only thing I can do is stand there and take the beating.
I cry like a baby.
"Can you give me a minute," she says grabbing her phone and leaving the room.
Leaning over the bed I brush his white hair with fingers like I've watched her do.
"Hey Artie," I tell him, "Georgia's going to kick Auburn's ass."
His knees swing wildly from side to side and his eyes remain locked on mine.
"I love you Art," I say.
Somehow he moves his hand to meet mine halfway and we shake.
"I know," I tell him. "You know Auburn's going to kick our ass."
I feel the slightest of squeeze ... and then the far away look comes back and he's somewhere else.
His wife returns and beats her head against my chest a little while longer.
"Sarah and I will do whatev's ..." and she nods.
I'm in a fog when I leave and at a Red Light, glance out of the window to see "The Captain's Lounge".
My Dad and I used to go share pitchers of beer there when I was home from Louisville a thousand years ago.
So I pull in the parking lot ... and cry like a baby for a little while longer.
