Death Wish

“Timmy, don’t blink,” Henry said as he puffed on his pipe and rocked slowly on the porch.

Timmy paused in  playing with his toy race cars and stared up at his grandfather completely baffled. “Whaddaya mean, Grandpa?”

“Weren’t you listening to the song? It made a lot of sense. How old are you now, Timmy? Five?” the old man asked.

“Six.”

“Just like in the song. You’re six years old,  you take a nap, you wake up and you’re twenty-five married to your high school love. Don’t let that happen to you,” he said, vehement.

“If I take a nap I won’t wake up until I’m twenty-five?” Timmy shrieked in horror.

Henry burst out laughing, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. “Ah, Timmy, you are good for the soul, but bad for my...anyway.  It doesn’t mean  that.  It means that you have to make sure you make everything, every moment in your life count. It goes by so quick. Look at me. I’m eighty-nine years old and I barely know what I did in all those years. I blinked. I’m on my last leg. Not much more  I’m gonna be able to do before the good Lord calls me up.”

“Why is he gonna call you up, Grandpa? Does God really  have your phone number?” Timmy asked innocently.

Henry laughed again with the predictable coughing following. He sat back with his hand over his heart wheezing painfully. “Have I told you lately how much I like talking with you, Timmy? You’re the reason I haven’t jumped off a building by now.”

“You’ll get hurt if you do that,” Timmy said, anxiously watching his grandfather.

“Yeah, that would be the point. Better than causing so much trouble for your mama and daddy. They shouldn’t have to be stuck with a sick old geezer like me.”

“But we like you here. We don’t like the home where you were living. Mama said they’re not nice.”

“They were nice enough,” Henry said dismissively.  “I like that song. Could you play it for me again?”

“Okay, Grandpa.” Timmy got up, pushed the replay button and Kenny Chesney’s voice came back on telling them not to blink. Henry listened to it humming along. Tears suddenly filled his eyes and spilled over his wrinkled cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Grandpa? Should I get Mama?” Timmy asked taking his hand.

“Come sit with me, Timmy,” he demanded gruffly. Timmy obeyed instantly crawling gently up on his lap. Henry patted his head. “You have to promise  to remember me when I’m gone.”

“Where you going, Grandpa?”

“Well, I can’t stay here forever, you know. Everybody has to go sometime. God wants us to only stick around for so long then we have to keep him company in heaven. Hopefully that’s where I’m going. If it was the other place I wouldn’t be so anxious to get going.”

“But you have to die to go to heaven. I don’t want you to die,” Timmy said starting to cry.

Henry hugged his sturdy little body to his frail one. “Now, now, Timmy. That’s why I want you to remember me. That way I won’t really die. But I want you to do one more thing for me, Buddy.”

Timmy wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked up at him. “What?”

“Whenever you do something great like the first time you hit a baseball or the first time you kiss a girl....”

“I don’t wanna kiss no girl!” Timmy shouted at once.

Henry laughed again.  “Well, you say that now, but there will be one day maybe in ten years and you’ll change your mind.”

“Uh-uh,” Timmy insisted, shaking his head for emphasis.

“Okay, forget that. But whenever you do a great job, Timmy, I want you to stop for a minute, look up at the sky and say “See, Grandpa, I didn’t blink.”  Can you do that for me?”

Timmy stared at him perplexed. “A great job?"

“There’s gonna be many times in your life when you won’t exactly know when those times are, but even if you’re not sure just do it anyway. Just say hello to me. I’ll be there.”

“Like a ghost?” Timmy said, his eyes wide as saucers.

Henry grinned. “No, I don’t think I know how to do that. I’ll be around every time you think of me. You just won’t be able to see me like I am now. Maybe I’ll be a butterfly or an eagle or just a mushroom in the forest.”

“Wow. I better not knock over anymore toadstools. It might be some dead guy I don’t even know,” Timmy said seriously.

Henry laughed, then promptly started coughing. When he could he said,   “So. Now you got it? You just say hi to me whenever something happens to you even if it’s bad or good or just regular stuff like when you first learn to ride a bike.”

“I already know how to ride a bike. Wanna see?”

Henry smiled. “In a bit you can show me. But first I want to make sure you know what I want. This is my death wish, Timmy. It’s important that you do it or I’ll be forgotten.”

“No, I won’t forget you, Grandpa! I promise,” Timmy said.

“There’s my good boy. Now go on and show me how good you are at the bike thing and then I’ll show you how to beat me at checkers.” Henry kissed the top of his head and Timmy scampered off his lap, jumped on his bike and rode around the lawn and sidewalk.

Three weeks later, Timmy stood beside his mother clutching her hand. She had tears streaming down her face, but Timmy stood stoically as the preacher spoke of walking in the valley of the shadow of death--wherever that was. Henry’s shiny black coffin was covered with white roses. Timmy placed on the casket a bunch of daisies he pick in the meadow beside his house. He looked up at the stormy sky and sadly said,  “ I picked these cuz maybe they’re Grandma and now you can be together.  I miss you.”

A butterfly, yellow and black, fluttered in front of his face and landed on the daisy bunch and Timmy smiled. 

“Hi, Grandpa. See, I didn’t blink. I’ll never blink. But I’m still not kissing no girl,”he said gruffly.  

 Timmy looked all around him, amazed. He could have sworn he heard Henry laughing at him. 

Grandpa got his death wish.