As I wake up flat on my back

in an unfamiliar bed,

surrounded by hazy faces

and teary eyes,

and wobbly smiles,

I find that I cannot

for the life of me

remember who and why

they are here for this old guy.

 

A figure clad in black, too,

stands right there at the door.

I don't know why they won't come in

or why they're being ignored.

Perhaps, I think,

they're just a bore,

or perhaps they’re lost.

I try to beckon them to come close,

but my limbs are unworking

and they smile softly like they know.

I frown and he gently shakes his head,

mouthing to me 'a little more’.

I don't know what it means,

but I let it go.

 

I direct my face back to the crowd,

grim and sorrow-stricken faces greet mine.

I want to crack a joke 

to lighten up the mood a bit,

but it appears my voice has failed me.

Yet, something in me stirs to life,

as my eyes flit from face to face.

There's something so familiar 

about the shape of their eyes,

the slope of their noses,

the curves of their lips,

a memory on the verge of being caught,

slips right through the gaps of my fingers.

I reach out,

and out,

and out,

and ou-

 

The feeling of a hand in mine

snaps me back.

The man’s face is tear-streaked,

yet still he gives me a crooked smile.

I note that he's got the same smile as I.

He squeezes my hand tight,

a comforting gesture, 

I gather my remaining strength

and manage a gentle squeeze back,

he seems like he needs it, that's all.

 

The figure approaches at last,

stepping carefully over the threshold.

There's a hint of finality in the air now,

and by the looks of it the others 

must have sensed it too,

for they've all hung their heads low.

The figure places a hand on my head,

freezing cold yet burning with warmth,

I lean into it and, oh.

 

Oh, I remember now.

Slowly, I move my head from left to right.

There sits my son

and there sits his wife.

There weeps my daughter,

her friend clutching her tight.

There stands my grandchild,

holding that toy I bought him

once upon a time.

 

Ah.

It all makes sense now.

Next to me the figure is now 

emitting a strange kind of light.

The hand on my head moves away,

slithering down to hold my trembling one.

‘Come,’ they say, ‘it is time.’

They give me a small smile

as I stand and trail behind,

leaving in my wake,

only the sound of a flatline.

I smile back.