Had I known then, that it would be the last
time you would walk out of your office at No. 6 and never return again, I would
have found an excuse to delay and make you turn back.
I would not have let you walked alone lugging
the bulging shoulder sling bag that had contained all your belongings.
There were a much used USGA Rules book thicker
than the Bible, sheets of paper with your scribbles, notes in preparation
for your golf seminars, files of old MGA and KGNS minutes and correspondences. There were also a tattered copy of Daily Bread, different colored marker pens, syringes for your insulin jabs, different gadgets to take your sugar reading and your blood pressure.
There were strips of glucose and sweets
which you kept handy in case lunch was delayed and you went low, several nasal sprays, eye drops, and various types of
medicines carefully arranged in marked pill boxes. Inside the worn out bag were also newspapers,
snacks for your grandchildren and a packet of Fishermen's Friend-- the blue
colored flavor which we both preferred.
That evening when you left No. 6, the skies were grey and gloomy. it rained but you didn't want an umbrella.
Too troublesome you had said.
Usually you would ask for one of the staff to
help carry your bag down to the car but not that time. And I didn't think to insist on helping you but instead
accompanied you midway down the three flight of stairs. No words were spoken but I sensed your reluctance to leave.
You were king in your office domain and there
was very little your staff and I wouldn't do for you. You were always strong and authoritative but that evening you looked more frail and pale than usual; was was the commanding air about you.
I stood at the landing and watched you slowly
descend the remaining way; every step an effort; your shoulders slumped, your
steps faltered. I sensed your discomfort
but didn't know what to say and could only managed a muffled 'Take care.’
Upon reaching the exit, you turned slowly and
found me still at the landing. You pulled back your shoulders, smiled weakly, coughed, cleared your throat uncomfortably and croaked softly, 'Bye, see you tomorrow'
and then let yourself out the door.
I went back upstairs and into your office to
pick up some documents but was compelled to look out the window onto the street
and was in time to catch a final glimpse of you getting into your car as the
rain cascaded like a shimmering silky curtain. For a heartbreaking moment, I felt our goodbye was final and the heavens wept. I waved and strained against the window pane as you slowly drove off and
gradually disappeared from view.
And sadly that was the last time I saw you at No. six ...
