Visitation

"You know we all get old, Weston. It's nothing to fear," his grandmother told him. "Death, I mean."

"I know what you meant, Grandma," he told her.

"I'm not afraid to die," she told him. "I am afraid of being alone, though." She reached out her frail hand and took his before saying, "Thanks to you and your mother that's something I've never worried about. If not for the two of you, I really would rather move on than just hang on for the sake of living. I had two friends like that, you know. Their families put them in homes and forgot about them. They just wasted away, eaten up by sadness and the neglect. I swore I'd never go through that." She patted his hand and smiled. "You're such a good boy, Weston."

"We'd never let that happen to you, Grandma. You know that."

His mother had cared for her mother for the last three years since she got to the point where she could no longer care for herself. Her husband had passed away nearly ten years ago and she had lived alone, proudly and independently until the combined effects of debilitating arthritis and a mild stroke made doing so impossible.

She had her own room in her daughter's house with a television, a nurse who checked on her each day, and the companionship of her 'baby girl' who was now 52 years young. Somehow, no matter how busy he was, her adult grandson, Weston, also stopped by to visit her seven days a week, time permitting.

She and her daughter were both very proud of him. He'd been a Seattle police officer for a little more than four years after graduating from community college and then the police academy. That kept him plenty busy. But he was also a very nice-looking young man and an never-ending string of pretty girls took up even more of his time. As if that wasn't enough, he also worked out and played basketball with his fellow police officers yet somehow he made time to see his grandmother nearly every day.

How could he not? She'd always been there for him. She didn't have a lot of formal education, but she was the smartest person he knew. No matter what the trouble had been in his life over the years, she'd had an answer. Not a pushy answer. She'd sit there and listen carefully to everything young Weston said giving him room to explain or just vent. Only then did she offer her opinion. And invariably, it put things into perspective leaving Weston asking himself, "Now why didn't I think of that?"

She'd recently turned 82, and she wasn't doing well. Her spirits were still up and now he realized that a large part of that was due to being surrounded by people who loved her. At 25, he couldn't possibly understand what life would be like 60 years down the road. He could barely imagine turning 40 or having a family let only being 80-something. But he was already wise enough to see how important it was for someone that age to know that people still cared.

His mom was there pretty much all day, every day, but that didn't matter. He just couldn't stay away. On those very rare days when work kept him busy for reasons beyond his control, he felt guilty and he'd at least call to let her know he was thinking about her. Perhaps somewhere deep inside he hoped there would be a Weston in his life to remember him when friendship and love were all that were left and worth living for.

"I gotta go now, Grandma," he told her. "I start my tour in half an hour."

"Oh, right," she said weakly. "That sergeant of yours is a tough one. You best be running along. You don't want to get on his bad side, huh?" She managed a smile as he kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you, Grandma. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I do," she told him. "No doubt about it." She reached up and touched his face. The back of her hand was purple and nearly black. The skin looked like wax paper and he was afraid that if he touched it, it would just flake off leaving nothing but the bones he could almost see through it. "I love you, too, Weston. Never forget that."

"I won't, Grandma," he told her.

Then she said something he couldn't ever remember her saying before. "Goodbye, Grandson." She'd always said, "Take care" or "See you later." Never goodbye.

He smiled and said, "Bye, Grandma" not knowing he would never see her alive again.

The call came just as he was finishing his ten-hour tour of duty. It was his mom on the phone, and he had a foreboding about something being wrong as she never, ever bothered him at work.

"Honey? It's me," she said, her voice shaky with emotion.

"It's Grandma, isn't it?" he said quietly.

"She's gone, Weston. I'm so sorry. She loved you so much."

He sat quietly for a few seconds then said, "She loved you too, Mom. She told me that all the time."

The funeral was held four days later. After a very nice service at the United Methodist Church, everyone filed by her open casket to pay respects. Some just looked, others touched her cold hand. A few, like Weston, kissed her forehead as he took a final look and fought back tears; tears he knew she wouldn't want him to shed.

Rather than cry, he recalled her words about her fear of being alone and resolved to spend as much time as he could with people like his grandmother or more precisely, like her friends who'd been sent off to die alone in nursing homes where few people, if any, ever came by to let them know they still mattered.

There was a home just a few blocks from where he lived and that evening he stopped by for the very first time.

He walked up to the lady at the front desk and introduced himself. "Ma'am? My name is Weston Greer. My grandmother just passed away and I feel this, I don't know, this...need or...burden...to spend time with older folks who have no one who comes to see them. Are there any here like that?" he asked.

She sighed deeply and said, "Unfortunately, we have quite a few here, young man. Many have lots of visitors. Most have at least one. But we have more than a handful who have no one. My own mother is getting very old and it breaks my heart to think of her like that. We occasionally get folks from a church to come visit, but that comes with a price tag of sorts. We also bring people in for things like Bingo or whatever, but it's not the same as a personal visit—especially from a regular visitor. Come on. I'll introduce you to a few of them tonight and the others when you come back. Just say 'when' once you've met enough of them."

As they walked down the hall, the woman whose name was Marilyn, said, "You must have an amazing mother or parents or someone. A handsome, single young man like yourself could be doing a lot of other things with his free time."

"Maybe so," he said, "but I can't think of too many that are more important."

She pointed to a room number which had 17 on it. "This is Mr. Thomas's room. He's been here for a year and I've never seen a soul come visit him. He's a retired school principal and a very sweet man."

They walked another 20 or so steps and she pointed to room 30. "Mrs. Garr is in there. For almost her first year, she and her husband shared a room. He passed away and she's been completely alone ever since. Between you and me, I keep expecting her die of a broken heart any day now. Such a sweet lady."

She turned right at the end of the hall and three doors down pointed to room 54. "And this is Mrs. Tilly. She's been here longer than anyone I know and again, no one has ever come by to see her. At least not family or friends. She's 94 and getting very close to the end. She's so weak and frail."

She started to take him further and Weston said, "I think three is enough. At least for now." He made a mental note of the names and room numbers then thanked the lady for her help.

"There's plenty more if you that burden of yours grows any bigger," she told him with a friendly smile and a touch on the arm. With that, she went back up front.

Greer peeked into Mrs. Tilly's room and saw her staring blankly at the television. He walked over to her and when she became aware of his presence, turned her head toward him. "Are you an angel? Am I in heaven?" she asked in a very weak, very shaky voice.

"No ma'am," he said. "Just a mere mortal stopping by to get better acquainted." He leaned closer and smiled. "You kind of caught my eye as I walked passed your room."

The elderly woman made a noise he thought might be a laugh, but it sounded so painful he felt bad if it were. Her lungs rattled and she coughed and spat. He grabbed a tissue and wiped away the spittle. "You okay there, good lookin'?" he asked.

"Yes. Just fine," she said as the wheezing stopped. "So what really brings you by, young man? Are you going to try and sell me something or save my soul?"

"No ma'am. Neither of those. I just decided it was important to get to know people who spent their whole lives helping to make the world I live in a better place. I'd just like to acquainted. I'm Weston Greer. I'm 25 years young, and Seattle police officer."

She offered him a bony hand that looked even worse than his grandmother's had. "Nice to meet you, Officer," she told him. "I'm Martha Tilly. I raised two boys and a girl and was married for 52 years. After my husband died, I went to live with my daughter, Alice. She got cancer and passed away three years ago, and my boys put me in here."

She didn't cry, but her eyes were so...sad. Just the mention of her sons changed the way she looked. "They both live close by, but they never come to see me. I raised them better than that, but they're grown men and you can't force people to do things they don't want to do." She tried smiling a toothless smile and said, "If you ever see either of them, pull 'em over and give 'em a ticket. For me."

Weston smiled and said, "Yes, ma'am. I definitely will."

He spent about a half hour with her and let her do all the talking. It was as though he'd tripped a release valve allowing her to get rid of some of the things building up inside of her. When she told him she was very tired, he thanked her for sharing her time with him.

"No, thank you, young man. I...I can't remember the last time anyone came to see me."

"I'll be back tomorrow and as often as I can, okay?"

Mrs. Tilly didn't believe him, but she told him she looked forward to it. Greer smiled at her and said, "Would it be okay if I gave you one little kiss right here?" pointing to her cheek.

"I'm not married anymore so I suppose that'd be okay," she said with a toothless smile. Greer gently squeezed her hand and gave her that kiss. She put her other hand on his face and told him what a sweet boy he was. He thanked her again and wished her a good night.

On his way back to the front he saw Mrs. Garr also staring at a television. She was the tiniest little black woman he'd ever seen. She also looked very sad and frail. She had essentially the same questions as Mrs. Tilly and was just as grateful for his company. When he asked if he could kiss her too, she laughed. "I'm still a live wire, young man," she said. "I might just kiss you back, you know!"

He assured her that'd be just fine so he only smiled when she raised up and kissed his cheek, too.

His last stop was Mr. Thomas. Of the three people Greer visited, he felt the strongest connection with him. It was almost certainly because he was a man, but he was also a kind, gentle soul.

He'd been a teacher or an educator for almost 45 years then had worked part-time at a big-box hardware store until he turned 75. "I just love to work," he said. "I'd still be working if I could. This...this layin' around all day stuff is for the birds."

During their talk he spoke fondly of his late wife, Dorothy. "We were married for almost 60 years before she passed away."

"Did you have children, sir?" Greer asked.

"Oh, sure. Boy and a girl. Let's see now. Jeffrey is um...well, he has to be close to 50. Then we had our 'accident'." Mr. Thomas smiled and said, "Shannon was very unexpected. She'd be, well, let's see here. I guess she must be 34 or maybe 35. What month is it?" he asked.

Greer told him it was January then asked, "Do they live around here?" almost not wanting to know.

"Oh, no. Jeffrey, he did 25 years in the Navy, and retired down in Jacksonville, Florida. Gosh, I haven't seen him in...what? Fifteen years now? And Shannon, she married a guy who was quite a bit older. Nice fellow. They moved out to Colorado about ten years ago. Last time I saw her was maybe three years back. Yeah, that's right. That's when Dorothy died. She came up for the funeral. Got to meet my grandson for the first time."

"How old is he?" Greer asked.

"Well, let's see. He was three then so he must be six now. Cute kid. Very polite. Smart, too! Shannon calls me every week. Sometimes I get to talk to my grandson, too. Boy, can he talk!" Mr. Thomas's eyes lit up for the first time as he talked about his daughter and grandson.

"What's his name?" Greer asked.

"Colby," he replied. "I heard all kinds of names working around kids all those years, but I never heard that one before. Cute kid, though. Smart, too!" he said again.

Greer spent a few more minutes with him then said his goodbyes, again promising he'd be back.

Over the next couple of months, Greer took on two more elderly residents before realizing that was the most he could handle. He talked a couple of his buddies from his precinct into visiting occasionally, and once his captain found out what several of his officers was doing, he proposed they adopt that particular nursing home.

Within a week, it was routine to see police officers in or out of uniform either coming, going, or sitting and visiting with someone. Greer continued to see his 'Fab Five' as he'd come to call them, and he always walked away thinking he'd gotten more out of the visits than they did.

When he stopped by to visit a few days later, Martha caught him before he went down the hall. "Weston? I wanted you to know Mrs. Tilly passed this afternoon. I know she was one of your 'regulars' and I didn't want you going down there and finding an empty room. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Greer didn't even notice how Martha thought of Mrs. Tilly as 'his' as all he could think of was how much he wished he could have seen her one last time. He felt a tear welling up in his eye and turned away as he said, "I'm glad you told me, Martha. She was such a sweet woman."

Martha knew what was going on and didn't mention it. People were people and sometimes...people cried. Even police officers who saw some horrible things in the line of duty. "But your others are all well and I'm sure they're looking forward to your visit."

Greer tried not to let his sadness affect his other visits, but when he got to Mr. Thomas's room he felt sure he he could tell something was wrong so Greer immediately turned it around on the older man.

"You doing okay, Mr. Thomas?" he asked after a few minutes. He hadn't said a whole lot and that was very unusual.

"Oh, sure. I'm fine," he said. "It's just that I got a call from Shannon today. She normally only calls on Sunday nights, you know. That nice husband of hers? He had some kind of thing she called DTV or VTD or something. Some kind of blood clot thing in his leg. Went up to his lungs and...that was it."

Greer knew what a DVT was from his first-aid training. It stood for Deep Vein Thrombosis and often affected people who sat for long periods of time. People like police officers who rode in cars for many hours each day. Blood clots could form in the legs then upon standing, migrate to the lungs or heart and in many cases, result in death. One need not be old or in bad health so patrol officers made it a point to stretch their legs and/or walk around whenever possible. It was rare, but by no means unheard of."

"Geez, I'm...I'm so sorry. How's your daughter doing?"

"Oh, you know, she's putting on a brave face. Poor Colby isn't doing so well, though. He's too young to understand these kinds of things. Yeah, he was always flying somewhere on business. Long trips. Lots of sitting. I never heard about such a thing before, but that's what can happen. Shannon told me about some news reporter who died from it in Iraq during the invasion in 2003. I guess he'd been cooped up in a tank all day, and not long after he stood up, he keeled over."

Greer asked if there was anything he could do, but Mr. Thomas told him no. "If they lived nearby, I'd ask you to go look in on her, but Colorado's a pretty long drive."

"Okay, well if you think of anything, you just let me know, okay?"

Mr. Thomas promised he would then said, "How about a game of chess?" pointing to the set the department had recently put in every room.

"Okay, but I'm not gonna take it easy on you," Greer told him as he started setting up the board.

"Hah! You take it easy on me? Son, you're gonna be begging for mercy here in no time," the older man said with a gentle smile.

Greer largely forgot about the death of Mr. Thomas's son-in-law for the next seven months and then one day in August, he was surprised to see a visitor in his room when he stopped by to say hello.

"Oh, speak of the devil. That's him right there," he heard Mr. Thomas say as he pointed to Greer who happened to be uniform, something he tried not to do too often.

He noticed a woman with very pretty blonde hair sitting next to him and a small boy playing with a car on the floor. Greer came in and smiled then said, "I'm guessing you must be Shannon."

She smiled and said, "I am. And I'm 100% sure you're Officer Greer." She pointed to his name plate then laughed.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you. Your father talks about you all the time." He looked at the little boy with dark hair and said, "And that must be Colby."

"How do you know my name?" the boy asked looking up and the police officer. Before Greer could answer he said, "Is my grandpa in trouble?"

His mom and grandpa both laughed and she said, "No, honey. This is the police officer who visits Grandpa all the time. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. He was staring at Greer who smiled at him. "Is that a real gun?" he asked pointing to it.

"Yes, it is," he said.

"Do you shoot bad guys?"

"Colby! That's enough," his mother said somewhat embarrassed.

"I don't mind. It's a natural question for kids his age." He knelt down and said, "No, I don't shoot bad guys with it. We make sure to catch them and put them in jail so we don't have to use our guns."

"Do you have a police car with a siren?" he asked moving on from the gun.

"Okay. How about you play with this for a while?" his mother said fishing a handheld game system from her purse.

"Cool!" he said ignoring his car. "My mom never lets me play this!"

She shook her head and said, "If I didn't occasionally take it away from him, you'd think it was surgically attached to his hands."

Greer noticed she seemed attractive when he first walked in. Now that he was standing less than two feet away from her and looking at her beautiful smile, he could tell she was a very good-looking woman.

"Before I forget, thank you very much for spending time with my dad. I've felt horribly guilty for living so far away and not being able to see him. He talks about you every week when I call and I kind of feel like I know you or something. Anyway, it means a lot to me."

"We're moving to Seattle," Colby said without taking his eyes off of his game. "We're selling our house in Colorado and Mom's buying a new one here so we can visit Grandpa."

"Oh. Oh, wow. That's...great," Greer said. Very quietly he said so that Colby wouldn't hear, "I'm really sorry about your husband, Mrs..."

"Shannon is fine," she said. "Thank, you. Me, too. It was quite a shock."

"This one is very strong, Weston," Mr. Thomas said pointing toward his daughter.

"Not really, Dad," she said. "But I can put on a brave face when I have to." She looked up at Greer and said, "Did you want to sit down, Officer Greer?"