Ask for Me

His hand, the one without the tubes, the one

that still responds, reaches out to hers.

“Ask for me… please… ask for me” he pleads,

eyes searching for hers, only hers.

.

“Of course, dear…

what do you need?” she coos.

He slumps back, exhausted from the strain

of leaning forward, and closes his eyes.

“No”, he slowly shakes his head.

“You have to ask for me…”

His voice trails off, as she looks down sadly, lost.

He thinks back on his complicated mess of a life, and wonders

once more, was it enough…  He tries again, “I need you… “

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.” she interrupts,

misunderstanding and urgent.  He falls back, defeated.

She cries, quietly turning her head to spare him the sight.

.

Time runs from the room like water down a drain, and both

feel the swirl.  Once more… one more try… he turns slightly

on the bed, leaning on the cold metal rail

as she moves her face close to his…

.

He rasps “When you see God, ask for me… He won’t

call me in, but He’d never say no to you…

He’d never turn you down…”

.

She gasps,

struggling to say the thousand things that she wants to…

how good he was, how much he’d done and been… their love…

she gently squeezes his hand, and whispers in his ear

“First thing I’ll do, my love.  First thing I’ll do.”

He smiles, lets go,

and heads out to wait for her call.