The Ferris Wheel

   Ivan sat in his chair reading the Bible from a light that cast a dim 
light across the living room. The chair was leather. He had the chair as long as he could remember. In fact, he couldn’t remember when or where he purchased the chair. 

His head turned toward the doorway to the bedroom. Tonya, a middle-aged hospice nurse, entered the living room from the bedroom. He laid the Bible on the stand next to him. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s resting well,” Tonya smiled softly.

“That’s good,” Ivan said quietly. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I’ll stay the night, if that’s okay with you,” Tonya tiptoed into the room, avoiding Andrea’s chair and sitting on the couch. 

Ivan slowly breathed deeply. “You’re thinking tonight’s the night?”

Tonya paused. She wanted Ivan to know the words were coming before she said them. “No one can be certain,  but it’s close—hours.”

“Yeah, it’s best. Thanks, Tonya, you’ve been more than a nurse to Andrea, you’ve been a friend.”

“And she’s been my friend, as well.”

“Does that make your work harder?”

“No, it just makes my work more focused.”

“Most of us are only faced with this a couple of times in our lives, but you deal with this all the time. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You and Andrea have done so well. Where do you find your strength? You two amaze me.”

“You’re being too kind. But you probably noticed I was reading the Bible when you entered the room. That’s one source from where my strength comes.”

Tonya smiled politely. 

Ivan reached over to the stand and grabbed his Bible. He opened it and leafed through the pages, and stopped when he located a passage. 

“Let me read something. ‘And I have hope toward God, which hope these men also look forward to, that there is going to be a resurrection of both the righteous and the unrighteous.’”

“That’s beautiful,” Tonya placed her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her chin in the palm of her hand as if expecting more to be read.

“You see,” Ivan said, “a man’s faith can not be based on one promise or scripture. It must come from many sources. The resurrection or coming back to life is integral in the Bible, not sporadic. Adam’s hope was not death. Death would only come if he proved disobedient. And when he did prove disobedient, all his offspring inherited his trait for disobedience, and all became subject to death. The only hint of death prior was only through disobedience. However, shortly after Adam’s disobedience, the Bible offered the hope of a reversal of that tragic event. The resurrection and hope of everlasting life are spoken about in every quarter of the Bible. It’s inescapable. That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“It is, and it’s interesting to hear you talk about it.”

“So you see, Andrea’s death—well, I will grieve until my last breath. No one wants to see anyone die. No person wants to die. It’s not natural to die. If it were, we’d have conditioned ourselves by now. In fact, I’d say each time you care for a person who faces death and dies, you quietly and silently weep.”

“I do,” Tonya confessed.

“Andrea and I have talked about these things. We know our time together is short. However, we have that hope, and we’ll see each other again. We will see each other as Jehovah originally intended for us to live—in an earthly paradise.”

Ivan brushed the pages aside and stopped near the end of the Bible. “I’m going to read something.” He smiled kindly and moved up in his chair. “I’m going to ask a question when I’m done reading.”

Tonya chuckled under her breath and joked. “There’s no math, is there?”

“I promise,” Ivan jokingly assured. “Now listen,” and he began reading. “And I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea is no more. I also saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God and prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. With that, I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”

“That’s so beautiful,” Tonya said. “And you read that so well.”

“You’re trying to flatter me to get away from the question,” Ivan smiled. “So here’s the question: What is new?”

“The heaven and earth,” Tonya answered.

“Exactly! Another question? Something I haven’t read, but I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Well, I got one right,” she grinned

“Not really a question, but complete this phrase. It’s from the Bible; ‘The meek shall inherit the…”

“Earth?” 

“Exactly,” Ivan said. “Can you try one more question?”

“Last one?”

“Promise.”

“That means the worst I can do is one out of three wrong. That’s sixty-six and two/thirds percent.”

“Look at you,” Ivan grinned, “and you didn’t want any math.”

“Wow,” Tonya said, “I don’t know where that came from.”

“On that new earth, name one thing that will not be there?”

Tonya’s eyes opened wide, the sleepiness washed from her face. “Death?”

“One hundred percent,” Ivan said. 

“That’s so nice of you to share that with me.” Tonya lifted her chin away from her palm and relaxed against the back of the couch. “I see what you’ve done, you comforted me.”

“It’s the least I can do for all the comfort you have brought to Andrea and me.”

“Would you like me to fix you a cup of tea?” Tonya asked, scooting forward on the couch. “I’m going to have one.”

“No, thank you. I’m going to go to bed now.”

Ivan stood from his chair. He looked back at the chari and gestured toward it. “That chair, I almost forgot, Andrea bought it for me for our tenth anniversary.” 

He eased his way into the bedroom. His eyes fell upon Andrea’s face, softly lit by a night light. His mind briefly flashed to an earlier time, when her skin was young and fresh. 

He dressed in pajamas and quietly slid into bed.

He placed his hand on Andrea’s chest. Her chest rose slightly and sank. He thought, ‘How many more are there?’ 

He thought about their first meeting, a county fair, standing next to each other in line for the Ferris wheel. They were strangers. The worker assumed they were together and motioned for them to take their seats. He was right. And they remained together ever since. 

All the good memories and trying times flashed through his mind like each seat on that Ferris wheel; one seat after another spinning closer and further away, and suddenly replaced by another seat. ‘Me and Andrea, getting older with each passing seat.’ 

He cuddled close and brought his lips close to her ear.

Tonya returned to the living room from the kitchen with a cup of tea. She passed the bedroom door and heard Ivan whisper a prayer. She paused for a moment and thought. ‘That’s usually it. When someone dying hears those final words, it’s like saying, It’s okay to let go. It’s beautiful that they can spend this time together.’

Tonya relaxed on the couch, setting her cup of tea on the stand beside her. She curled her legs on the couch. She smiled, knowing that Andrea was in good hands. 

Eventually, Tonya stretched out on the couch and fell asleep. It wasn’t deep sleep. She slept in expectation of being awakened by Ivan to inform her that Andrea had taken her last breath.

Something disturbed her during her sleep. She glanced across the room through sleepy, foggy eyes toward the clock hanging on the far wall. She squinted to read the time, 3:36.

At the sound of movement from the bedroom, she swung her feet to the floor and stood. She wiped her eyes as she crept toward the bedroom.

At the bedroom door stood Andrea, not feeble, but appearing well rested. 

“Tonya,” she said. “It’s Ivan, he’s died.”