“They can’t do that,” Vanessa implored. “They can’t do that to that sweet, sweet man. He’s a person. He deserves to be home.” She put her hands to her face and wept, dramatically but
sincerely. I could tell she was shedding genuine tears. Vanessa approached Cath. Her expression was pained, as if
Cath could help things simply by saying it wasn’t true. I
stubbed out my cigarette and mentally recounted the day I met Sherman. Standing outside, bewildered, holding his empty coffee cup.
“He deserves…to be able to…die –
at home. No one I know can die in a ---a hospital. So cold, so septic. Even those hospice places. Not the same thing as
“Aunt Van, get a grip. He’s ninety seven.”
something. He’s up there,” Cath chimed in. “He is
such a sweet man, but I guess his family wants him looked
look after him. I care about people like Sherman…”
Vanessa was falling apart. Alana reached over to lead her back into the house.
“Sometimes it’s the way it goes,” Alana sounded impatient.
“It’s not your job to take care of everyone.”
“No one should die away from home.”