The Last Guffaw

 

A short story about a last laugh

 

By

 

Gene Fredericks

A wrinkled pair of old, tired eyelids snapped open in a solemnly dark room. There was one twinkle still left in them. With all the strength he could muster, the old man slowly propped his frail body up and reached for his silver whistle attached to a lovingly embroidered string around his neck. He clutched it in his quivering, bony, blue-veined hand and slowly moved the whistle up to his thin, waxy lips and began to blow. But, there wasn’t enough wind left in his lungs to spin the wooden ball around inside the well-worn whistle. No sound came out, just gentle air. His hand dejectedly fell to his chest. He lay there motionless.

A long moment later, breathing slowly and deeply, his hand slipped off his chest onto the bed. His knurled knuckle hand slowly moved over each fold of the rumpled heirloom quilt that spread across his bed as he flashed back on the years he had been comforted by it. His arm stretched out as his hand slowly crawled onto the nightstand filled with pill bottles and fell still on the cold green granite tabletop.

After resting from the trip, his hand felt its way around the clutter, knocking over pill bottles and pushing other remedies away until he touched his brass bell. He slid his pointer and middle fingers under his sovereign Liberty Bell. With a triumphant thrust, he lifted the replicas off the stone night table and swung them back and forth, ringing out a summoning sound to the next room where his kin were gathered, waiting, and planning.

“Shush, I hear something,” His oldest granddaughter said, silencing the others.

They turned their heads and attention to listen for a distinctive sound and heard their patriarchs' Liberty Bell ring out clearly, calling them to action. They all rushed in to see what PaPa wanted.

PaPa was propped up; his head leaned to one side and drooped against his shoulder. He looked neither comfortable nor in pain as generations of his heirs pensively filed in and circled his bed.

His eyes moved across from generation to generation. The best years of his long, prosperous, nearly spent life stood right there in front of him. As he looked them over, he imagined the generations of lives still ahead without him. He smiled. Then flashed back to a sad glance on one of those who would soon miss him, and he sighed.

His youngest daughter, Monica, the spokesperson for the family, leaned over to his good ear and spoke above a whisper so all could hear.

“What is it, PaPa? What can we do?”

She placed her ear to his lips and listened closely for his low-volume response.

”Where is Billy?” He asked.

Monica repeated his words for the anxious relations. 

“Billy? 

 

PaPa nodded.

 

Oh. He’s outside playing ball.” Billy’s Dad said.

Monica conveyed the boys’ whereabouts. PaPa nodded and muttered, “Get him.”

With surprise, the gathered relations looked around curiously, wondering, "Billy, why Billy?"

 

Billy’s Dad went out of the room to get the eight-year-old ball player. The room went silent except for Papa's deep, slow breaths. They waited.

Billy was a pip. He was bad in school, talked back to his elders, and stated the most sincere, real, and raw emotional responses to any situation. He was unwilling to be polite just for the sake of being polite. Like a fair umpire, he called them like he saw them and, like a good ball player, he never got mad if he struck out swinging at a good pitch.

Billy was too young and PaPa too old for them to have ever played together. But, they liked each other and at family gatherings would smile across the room like they knew something the others didn’t. Billy bounded into the room, made a face, held his nose, and said,

“It smells in here!”

All eyes looked at Billy and gestured for the chosen one to go over to the old man’s bedside. Billy shrugged his shoulders, walked over, and jumped right up onto the bed.

“What’s up, PaPa?”  Billy blurted out, seemingly unaware of the grave nature of the moment. 

 

PaPa was too weak to answer loud enough for Billy to hear, so Monica repeated PaPa’s words.

“Very little - and less all the time.”

PaPa coughed. Billy laughed. Monica and the others smiled.

The old man closed his eyes and rested after his quick quip. All waited, hoping his eyes would open again. The antsy Billy chewed gum, scratched himself, and blew a bubble. It popped, and PaPa's eyes opened. He began to speak again, and Monica amplified PaPa’s words.

“Billy, do you know how to get everything you want?” PaPa said.

Billy rolled his eyes up in thought. He was stumped and said, “Nope,” 

Then curiously asked, “How?” 

 

“Just be happy with what you’ve already got,” PaPa said.

Monica conveyed his words, then she began to cry. PaPa went on.

“Lean over here, Billy,” PaPa said.

Monica knew Billy was to take her place, and she moved away from PaPa’s bed.

Billy had a hard time with the smell but knew this was important. He put his ear right up to the mouth of his oldest and closest relation. PaPa's lips moved fast as he began to tell Billy the funniest joke he had ever heard. At the punch line, they both laughed. PaPa’s big laugh raised him from the bed, and then he fell back flat onto the pillows motionless.  

 

Billy rocked back and forth until it hurt, and when he caught his breath, he said into PaPa’s ear.

  

“That’s a good one, PaPa.” 

 

He did not notice his oldest living relative was no longer. The others did. 

Billy laughed a little longer. No one stopped him.

When he finally stopped laughing and looked down, he saw that PaPa was not laughing or breathing, his eyes no longer showed a twinkle, and were closed shut.

Billy knew his wonderfully funny, great-grandfather was gone. PaPa went out with a guffaw just as he said he would. The last sense he lost was humor, just as he wanted.

Billy smiled and wiped his laughing tears off his face with his muddy little fingers and looked at PaPa again. Billy sat still as the others silently looked on, then the young man leaned down, kissed PaPa, and said goodbye, leaving a happy tear on his lifeless pal's cheek.

Billy looked up at his elders now with a twinkle in his eye and knew PaPa’s last joke was meant only for him. He knew PaPa would not want him to tell the funny story, so he smiled to himself, knowing he already had everything he wanted.