Pulse newmasthead 10th anniv 2252x376px

Subscribe/Energize


new subscription

Join the 11,000+ who receive Pulse weekly



energize subscription 
Stop by the
Pulse newsstand and
energize your subscription
with a contribution and
keep Pulse vibrant

Our goal this year:
500 energized subscribers

So far: 61



Questions?

If you have any questions about submitting a story to More Voices, please use the form below to send us a message.
Our editors will respond as soon as possible.

More Voices


Every month More Voices invites readers to contribute short nonfiction prose pieces of 40 to 400 words on a healthcare theme.

submittomorevoices


It was one hour past midnight, late enough that even the college students who lived in the apartment building across the street had changed their Halloween costumes for pajamas, turned off their lights and fallen into a sugar-induced sleep. I lay in bed, remembering the Halloweens of my youth when Dad and I had gone trick-or-treating together. He had protected me from the goblins, witches and ghosts that had roamed the streets of our neighborhood, and I had shared with him some of the candy I accumulated.
 
Now, Dad lay in a hospital bed in his bedroom; I listened to his breathing come through the monitor. I must have dozed off because, at 2 a.m. on November 1, I awakened with a jolt. At first I thought a leftover Halloween skeleton had taken control of Dad’s monitor, but then I realized that the rattling sounds I heard were coming from Dad. I rushed into his room, lowered the bars on his hospital bed, and crawled in beside him.

Dad's skin felt cold, so I wrapped his quilt--and my arms--around him. I held him close, whispering to him that I had always loved him and would love him forever and always. The more I talked, the calmer his breathing became. I know he heard me, felt me, and smelled me, even though he did not show any sign of recognition or awareness.

At 2:30 in the morning, Dad took his final breath. He looked peaceful, as if he had fallen into a deep sleep. The moon, shining through the slats of the room's blind, bathed him in its soft light.

It was 2:30 in the morning, and the night had taken my beloved dad from me. I did not move; I had nowhere to go. I lay next to my dad, letting the haunting darkness of the night consume me.

Ronna Edelstein
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Comments   

# Connie Kelley 2016-11-05 10:33
I cried when I read your story...you had such a wonderful relationship with your remarkable dad.
Reply | Reply with quote | Quote
# artie solomon 2016-11-01 15:20
Such a loving and caring story with a surprising Halloween backdrop. We should all go with such a loved one nestled beside us. As ML K once said, Peace at last, peace at last, thank God almighty we have peace at last.
Reply | Reply with quote | Quote
# Ronna L. Edelstein 2016-11-02 18:48
Thank you, Artie, for your beautiful comment. I agree: my beloved dad died in the best way possible--in my arms and hearing my voice.

Your friend,
Ronna
Reply | Reply with quote | Quote