Chapter Thirty-Seven
December, 1975
Rose finished washing the last of the baking sheets and stretched, glad to be done. It was almost Christmas, and friends and relatives had been dropping by almost every day, bringing cookies or fruitcake or other Christmas goodies. Rose had decided that it was time to return the favor, and had been baking since early morning. It was now late afternoon, and the sun had set outside the kitchen window half an hour ago.
Nibbling on a cookie, Rose went to see what Cal was doing. He had been watching sports on television when she had last seen him, just after lunch—or trying to, anyway. His eyesight was growing worse all the time.
Rose wandered into the living room, a plate of cookies in her hand, to where Cal was sitting in an easy chair, still watching television. She had never quite understood what it was that men liked so much about sports—she had never found it too terribly interesting herself—but she didn't argue about it.
Sitting down in another easy chair next to Cal's, Rose offered him the plate of cookies. He squinted at her for a moment before accepting one, then absentmindedly set the plate on the arm of the chair, almost dropping it on the floor.
Quickly, Rose took the plate from him. Cal was always absentminded when he was thinking about something else. One of her friends had suggested that it might be a sign of senility, but Rose doubted it. He had always been that way, as long as she could remember. When they had sailed on the Titanic, she had seen the puzzled looks of maids who found such items as champagne glasses and boxes of matches in odd places, courtesy of Cal setting things down and forgetting about them. He hadn't changed any with the passage of time, although now he was more inclined to misplace his false teeth or his glasses. Rose couldn't help but laugh when she found them in strange places, such as the refrigerator or the silverware drawer.
Cal reached over and took Rose's hand, smiling at her briefly before returning his attention to the game. Rose squeezed his hand, and settled back in her chair, trying to understand what was happening on the television.
They had recently celebrated their fourth anniversary, and Rose had never regretted her decision to marry Cal. It would have been a disaster when they were young, but in their older years they had learned to tolerate each other. Not that things had been completely calm, of course. They had gained maturity and mellowed out with time, but not completely. They had had their share of spats over the years. They did love each other, but it didn't stop them from occasionally getting on each other's nerves.
Still, for the most part, life had been good. They had gone on a brief honeymoon in Florida after their wedding, returning in time to usher in the new year with their families. Since they had both remained in reasonably good health, they had traveled some, including, at Cal's insistence, a cruise to Europe in 1973. They hadn't been there together since 1912, although Rose had been back twice before, once in 1939 and once in 1960, and Cal had been there once, on business, in 1925.
The previous February, Cal had surprised Rose by arranging a family reunion for her eightieth birthday, somehow convincing all of her busy children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to convene in Philadelphia for the celebration. It was the first time in years that they had all been together in one place, and Rose had taken dozens of pictures, thrilled at having them all together again.
But the passage of time was beginning to catch up to them, or, at least, it was beginning to catch up to Cal. Rose felt as strong and healthy as she had been ten or fifteen years earlier, but old age was finally catching up to Cal. At ninety-three, he once again used a cane to get around, and his eyesight was failing. Glaucoma, the doctor had said, for which there was no treatment. Harry had tried to convince Cal to try marijuana for the glaucoma, insisting that it could help, but Rose and Cal had simply pretended they hadn't heard that.
Rose was still in good health. Her heart beat strongly, with no sign of weakness or disease, she could still walk long distances, and she suffered only slightly from the aches and pains of old age. Her eyesight was good—she only wore glasses to read small print—and she even had all of her own teeth. She had a touch of arthritis, and her hearing wasn't quite as good as when she was younger, but she was still doing well.
Cal, on the other hand, was not doing so well. In addition to the glaucoma and the difficulty in getting around, he seemed to catch every ailment going around, and Rose had stopped letting people visit if they were getting over a cold or influenza. The last cold he had caught, in November, had turned into pneumonia, and he had barely pulled through. Rose had spent Thanksgiving at the hospital with him, though it wasn't much of a celebration. He had finally been allowed to go home, but he still had a terrible cough, especially in the cold, damp December weather.
*****
Two days before Christmas, Cal's health took a turn for the worse, the cough that had never quite gone away progressing again into pneumonia. His doctor put him back in the hospital, but it quickly became apparent that the medicines he was being given weren't doing any good.
Rose was at his side almost constantly, holding his hand as he struggled to breathe with the help of machines. His temperature rose, and there were times when he was so delirious he didn't realize she was there. At other times, however, he was grateful for her presence, for her refusal to leave his side. The struggle to breathe was so great that he couldn't speak to tell her, but it was all right. She knew. She spoke for him, reminiscing about past times, talking about their families and friends.
Several members of the family came to visit, those who were living nearby, and on Christmas Eve Nathan drove down from New York City to see his father. He sat beside him for a long time, talking to him, before going to stay with Gregory and Emily for the night.
The end came on Christmas Day, early in the afternoon. Rose had just returned to the hospital, after being convinced by Emily to go home and rest for a few hours. Gregory, Emily, Nathan, and Gina were all there, gathered around Cal's bed, when she arrived.
The doctor walked away, shaking her head, knowing there was nothing she could do for him. A nurse's assistant was nearby, but she stood back, letting the family members say good-bye. Cal was still alive, but it was obvious that the end was near.
Gina was sitting beside him, showing her grandfather a photograph that she had won an award for. Cal squeezed Gina's hand, congratulating her on her success. Emily and Nathan hovered over him, as though if they turned their attention elsewhere for even a moment, he would slip away.
Cal's expression changed when he saw Rose standing beside him, to a look of relief. He had feared that he wouldn't live long enough to say good-bye to her, but she was there. Struggling to breathe, he managed to speak a few words.
"Rose..."
"What is it, Cal?"
"You...came back."
"Of course I did. I wasn't going to leave you. Not now."
"Thank...you." He struggled for another breath. "I...need...tell you...something."
Rose took his hand, waiting for whatever he had to say.
"I...love you. Always...have. Since we...were young. Sorry...I didn't tell...then...I...treated you...bad."
Rose leaned close to him. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Cal. It was a long time ago. We were both young and hot-headed. We grew up. I've never regretted marrying you, though we've had only four years together." Her eyes filled with tears. "I...love you, Cal."
She looked at him as he struggled to get enough air, to take another breath, paying no attention to the family members gathered around them.
"You...were right...to leave me...for Jack. He...loved you...and gave you...everything I never could."
"I think he knew, Cal, when I married you. I...thought I saw him there, watching. He approved."
"You...should have spent the...years with him. The last four years...have been the best of my life...but he was always there...for you."
"I've loved you these last few years, Cal. I loved Jack with everything in me, but...he's gone. He's been gone for over five years. I didn't dwell on his memory. He's still in my heart, yes...but so are you."
"He...wouldn't have wanted you...to dwell on him. I know...more...than you think. You were...a part of...each other...in a way that...you and I...never were. He's...waiting...for you. I'll...make sure...you find each other...when it's time."
"Cal..." Rose leaned down to embrace him, unmindful of the tears flowing down her cheeks. He hugged her back—and then his arms dropped to his sides, and it was over.
She straightened, looking around at the family members gathered around them. Emily was crying, clinging to Gregory, and Nathan was staring at his father as though he couldn't quite believe that he was gone. Gina came up and hugged her grandmother, trying to comfort her, as all of them mourned for the man who, despite having made many mistakes in his life, had been loved and cared for by them all.