Lucidity by Colin Corde

Lucidity

by Colin Corde

Idiopathic means they don’t know the cause. Not knowing the cause means they don’t know how to cure it.

Dad told us this would be the last time we could see Crunch. This would be the last time that he could see Crunch.

Aunt Angela said I’m his spitting image. She takes us around the house like it’s a museum. We see pictures of a young boy. He looked happy.

When we saw him in the basement he was in a morphine coma. “It’s to make the pain go away.”

“Hey, Crunch, if you sleep any longer you’re going to end up like me,” my cousin, Tyler, joked. Crunch mumbled a response between “Damnit” and “you know what...?”

Dad leaned in close. “It’s your son, Crunch.” After fighting against frailty, he mouthed

“I love you.” Whatever pain the morphine took away flooded back through his expression.

“Hope to see you again soon.” Those were the words I uttered, while ushered out the door. The last thing I said to him.

How stupid.