Chocolate Chip Cookies For Uncle John

After 3 hours of travel, I arrived at my Uncle’s front door. A batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sat in a long tupperware at the bottom of my purse. I was nervous and somewhat anxious for the visit. I walked into the house, removed my boots and, then, my coat. Everything was just as I’d remembered, with one giant exception. I hugged my aunt. She breathed heavily on my shoulder as she cried. We walked into the living room together, the buzz of Sunday football audible in the background. I leaned over the hospital bed and kissed my uncle on his forehead. “Hi Uncle John, it’s Tina. I brought you chocolate chip cookies.” I opened the tupperware and he took a big inhale “Are they from Evelyn?” Evelyn is my mother. “No, Uncle John, I made them, so I hope they’re as good.” He looked up into my eyes, mumbling a polite and soft “Ok.” We took one anothers hand. “They’re probably not as good as my mother’s, but I hope you’ll try them.” His hand gripped mine even tighter.
I sat in a folded chair next to his bed and didn’t let go until he wanted to do so. A white sheet covered his thin body, and when I touched his shoulder and knees I could feel his bones. I studied his face and the angle of his body on the bed. The color of his thermal shirt, he looked handsome in navy blue. He shifted his legs up and down. I wanted a record of the day, in all of its love and pain. I recorded every single detail of that afternoon, including the sound of his voice and how many times he said “I love you.” Six. I closed my eyes and counted how many times we ate cookies together - at a cafe, in a restuaurant, at my parents house, or at his kitchen table. And, as my aunt and I spoke, he turned his head and said “I think it’s time for you to go.” For him our time together was complete. I prayed for his peace and said I love you one last time. I let go of his hand and took a final photo in my mind. I gave him a kiss. The record of our goodbye, a kaleidoscope of memories, and uneaten chocolate cookies, still plays in my mind.