goodbye, goodbye...

My grandfather was dead at 76, he died on the table while they tried getting the cancer out. It was the first real funeral I ever attended. We stood in line with the rest of the family at the funeral home, waiting to view the body. My mother walked my brother and me past the casket,

and there was this strange moment: they’d done such a perfect job with the body, my grandfather lay there, serene, looking just as I remembered him a month ago. He looked so normal, so much like Grandpa, that ever so briefly – two seconds, maybe – I imagined his eyes squinting, his brow furrowing momentarily, his hand coming up and rubbing his face, turning to us, happy to see us: “Hello…!” As the image played out I knew it wasn’t happening, yet it was happening, I watched it happen, it was so real, and was so happy to get him out of there and back home. But two seconds later it was over, he was just lying there, the three of us bawling. It seemed so real, I wanted it to be real, but I knew it wasn’t, and we went outside.

After they searched the house, the officer told me they’d look outside with the dog. “Is there anywhere you think he’d go?” “The park, or the arroyo. There’s a path down to the arroyo…” I told them I’d already been to the park and was sure Robert wasn’t there, but it was so overgrown and dark near the arroyo, and my flashlight was so tiny, I couldn't be sure about the arroyo. “We’ll start there,” the officer said. “Wait here, and I’ll talk to you when we’re back…”

I stood in his study, looking at the Segovia poster I’d looked at a million times before in the last 28 years. Files, computer, music stand, Ramos picture, chair, desk, everything was there. It all looked so incongruously normal, like he'd walk in momentarily and we'd listen to Beethoven. I didn’t know what to do. The phone rang; who the fuck was calling? I picked it up. “Hello…?”

I was outside and saw the officer and the dog come up from the arroyo. I took a step towards them. “Wait there until I get him back in the vehicle.” The dog was worked up, but he got it back in the truck, and walked over to me. “He’s down there,” he said. “He’s still breathing." I was aware of the sobbing, the hysterical questions coming one after another. “The ambulance is on the way, but please stay back. They need room to get down here and bring him up.” I heard the sirens getting closer, and two vehicles came down the hill. Red lights were flashing everywhere. They got the stretcher out, rolled it to the trailhead and realized they couldn’t get it down the narrow path, so they removed the top and took it down the path. I kept thinking: hurry up, boys. The quicker you get him to the hospital, the quicker you can pump his stomach. Come on, come on… Less than ten minutes later I saw flashlights coming up the path and they had him there and attached him to the rest of the stretcher and there was this strange moment: they wheeled the body past and Robert’s left arm was bent and sticking up in the air and his head was turned towards me and ever so briefly – two seconds maybe – as the whole area was bathed in flashing red lights I imagined his eyes were open and he saw me and smiled embarrassedly and his arm was sticking up because he was trying to wave at me somehow as if to tell me “everything’s ok you got me in time I’ll see you in a few…” but two seconds later it was over I realized there was blood on his face and his eyes were not open and his arm hung in the air in this horrible manner as though rigor mortis had set in and one of the neighbors came out having not seen Robert and walked over to me:

            “What’s going on?”

            There's not much to say at such a time. “Robert attempted suicide again…”

His mouth opened in shock and he watched for a moment and the rest of the officers came up the trail and I heard one walk over to the neighbor: “Did you hear a gunshot?” and everything sort of fell apart around me and seemed incomprehensible and the officer who had been so nice with the dog came back over: “He shot himself, but he’s still breathing…” and I wanted to get my car the fuck out of there and over to the hospital but I couldn’t because of all the police cars and an ambulance and I realized that it was pointless anyway; what did it matter how quickly I got to the hospital now? I wanted to be anywhere but there, anytime but then, doing anything else but this, and the air was a lot thinner than usual and so heavy now, so unbearably heavy, and I wondered if maybe there was a way to rewind the tape now, please, can we rewind the tape, just this once, I don’t ask for riches or fame and fortune, just to rewind the tape this one time, and do this over again.