I ask.
“Same. He was high-risk except for his age. The stroke put pressure on the body and led to the heart attack. We tried to revive him, but we couldn’t.”
“Did you try the paddles?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am, we tried everything.”
My mother’s pallor is gray. Everything in the hospital is gray. My insides are gray.
How I wish Dale were here.
I haven’t called him or texted him. I just got in the car and headed straight to the hospital. I send a quick text.
“Mrs. James,” the doctor says, “you’ll need to fill out some paperwork.”
“Can’t that wait?” I ask.
“I’m afraid not. We need to know what you want us to do with the body, and—”
My mother sways, and I steady her.
“Is all this really necessary right now?” I ask again.
“I wish it weren’t,” the doctor says. “But we do have protocol.”
“I’ll take care of this, Mom,” I say.
My mom falls into a chair. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“I’m afraid we need his next of kin,” the doctor says, “and that’s your mother, not you.”
“Can I at least come with her?”
“Of course.”
We follow the doctor back to a hospital room.
A body lies covered on the bed.
My mother grabs my arm.
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
But it isn’t. It’s not okay at all.
The body…
It’s Dennis…
Young and robust Dennis.
Nausea claws at me.
Strong. Must be strong for Mom.
Where’s Dale?
Why hasn’t he called? Texted?
I need you, Dale. I need you.
I glance through a mountain of paperwork reduced to a tablet. Page after page. Click after click.
“Sign here, Mom.”
Absently, she signs.
“What do you want to do? Bury? Cremate?”
“I…don’t know. We never talked about this stuff. He’s so young.”
The fact that my mom used the present tense isn’t lost on me. In her mind, he’s not gone yet. She’s still in shock and will be for some time.
“Cremation would be best,” I say. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“Yes, yes. I suppose so.”
“I’ll make all the arrangements. Does Dennis have any family?”
“I don’t know. A mother, I think.”
“Have you met her?”
“Yes. A couple times. They aren’t close.”
My mother isn’t making a lot of sense. I’m hesitant to cremate a body without her actual consent, but I’m not sure what to do.
“How long can the…body stay here?” I ask the doctor.
“As soon as someone from the morgue gets here, it’ll be moved down there. Once you decide on which funeral home to go with, we’ll contact them, and they’ll come and take care of things. I’m here because I need to know whether you want to donate his organs.”
“Mom?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“He was a young man. His organs could help many people.”
My mom hiccups into a sob. “I don’t know…”
“Please, Mom,” I say. “Let him help people who need it.”
“All right.”
“Thank you, Mrs. James,” the doctor says. “I’ll send someone in with the paperwork.”
“More paperwork?” Mom says.
“It’ll be over soon.” I rub her shoulders.
“Just when I found…” She trails off, her voice no longer colorless. It’s gray now, as I imagine Dennis’s body is underneath that white sheet.
“I’ll leave you two alone to say your goodbyes,” the doctor says.
Goodbye? I barely knew the man. I wish I had something to say to offer my mother some comfort, but try as I might, nothing comes to me.
“Would you like some time alone?” I ask my mom.
“I should do that,” she says. “Yes, I should do that.”
“All right. I’ll be right outside in the hallway.” The idea of leaving my mother alone with a dead body freaks me out more than a little, but I close the door behind me and stand in the sterile hallway. A nurse in green scrubs walks by. Then a doctor in a white coat.
Phones buzz at the station.
A patient walks by with a walker. Isn’t this the stroke ward? Or the cardiac wing? Why does that patient need a walker?
Why am I thinking about—
My phone buzzes.
Dale! Finally!
“Hey,” I say into the phone.
“I just got your text, baby,” he says. “What’s going on?”
I sigh. I couldn’t tell him someone died in a text. I said only I was heading back to the hospital for an emergency.
“He’s gone,” I say.
A pause. Then, “What?”
I sigh again. “Dennis. He had a heart attack. Apparently he’s had high blood pressure and high cholesterol for years and didn’t know it.”
“And that led to the stroke?”
I feel nothing. Words exit my mouth without thought or feeling. “And the heart attack. Yeah.”
Another pause. Then, “I’m two years older than he was. I can’t wrap my head around this.”
“Join the club. I want to comfort my mother, but I