Uncle Fred had taken a turn for the worse. That’s how Claudette put it when she summoned those few of the old man’s remaining relatives who, on short notice, could make it to his home. She’d cared for him for the last three months.
Out of respect, everyone spoke softly in the dim bedroom. That is, until Mel arrived…
“SORRY I’M LATE… IS HE STILL, YOU KNOW, ALIVE?”
“Keep it down, Mel.”
Claudette, with her finger to her lips, shaking her head, motioned for Mel to show more respect.
“SORRY … I mean, sorry.”
Mel had awakened Uncle Fred, who confusedly looked at his bed, at the rumpled sheets, then at those seated around the room.
What the hell was going on?
Then, at Mel.
Was that really his nephew?
“I apologize for Mel, Uncle Fred.”
Claudette took care of apologies as well as all the upcoming funeral arrangements.
Mel sat uncomfortably on a folding chair, turning to his cousin Ralph.
“Did he have any last words?”
“What?”
“WERE THERE ANY LAST WORDS, RALPH?”
Of all the family members with ear and sinus problems, Ralph was perhaps the worst afflicted there.
Uncle Fred looked from Mel to Ralph, with the sight that comes at the end.
“Ralph…”
“Huh?”
Now the old man had the voice that comes to those at the end as well…
“RALPH, TELL MEL HE’S NOT IN THE WILL.”
David Sydney is a physician who writes fiction in and out of the EHR (Electronic Health Record).