I walked into the dimly lit room and saw him laying in the bed. Covered with his favorite field camo blanket, what once was a healthy, strong Marine, now an almost skeletal old man, lay resting quietly. He stared silently at the ceiling, not seeing anything and unaware of my presence.
Looking around the room, I see some of his memories. There's a shadow box with war ration stamps, a few honors he earned, some pictures, and an unopened Christmas present. I'm thankful for the opportunity to stay by his side for awhile.
I pull up a chair and get ready to settle in for the night. As I watch him lay there, oblivious to the noise of the tv just outside his door, and the hustle and bustle of the nurses, I wonder how many stories are locked inside his mind. What I wouldn't give to spend the next few hours listening to him tell them, instead of just sitting here waiting for them to vanish forever. I start working on my puzzle and the night slowly passes. Suddenly he gives a loud cough and turns toward me. I take his hand as his breathing slows. My watch is over. RIP soldier, Valhalla awaits.
