They say you die twice. 

“They say you die twice. The first time is when they put you in your grave. And the second time is the last time someone mentions your name.” From Alux.com

“Someone help me please.” A gravelly voice heavy with congestion sliced through the silence of the cold sterile hospital air. “Please.” The desperate plea was repeated. 

Tom patted his pocket as he entered the dimly lit room. “How can I help you Miss Ruby?”

“I can’t get the lid off my coffee.” She whimpered with an almost child like tone. 

“I got you Miss Ruby.” Tom gently removed the lid. 

“Is it hot?”

 “It might be. You might need to wait a minute.” He kept his voice calm but loud. Miss Ruby couldn’t hear it thunder. “Miss Ruby press this red button when you need me.” He showed her the button on the bed for the 10th time. She smiled like she understood but he knew she didn’t. He stayed a minute to help her eat some before moving on to other patients. 

A few hours later, that same voice pleaded with the heartless air. “Someone help me please.” Her plea was followed by mournful whimpers. “Please. I gotta go to the bathroom. Please.” The silence enveloped the hospital again. “Please.” Her cries seemed to go on for painful hours. “Please.”

Tom rushed into her room. The elderly lady couldn’t wait. She had soiled herself. Tears of embarrassment rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry Miss Ruby. You gotta press the red button. I can’t hear you from all the way down the hall.” A couple orderlies attended to her, as the bed was cleaned. Tom showed her the button again. 

The next morning, Tom came in to an empty room. Miss Ruby died in the night. A transfer from the nursing home, Miss Ruby was a familiar face to hospital staff. 

He had ask a special favor of the corner, to know Miss Ruby’s final arrangements. Time went by. Patients came and went. Tom forgot about Miss Ruby until the call came. No one came forward as the next of kin. Friday, the funeral home would dispose of her body. 

‘Dispose of her body’. Tom knew, working as an RN, what a paupers funeral meant. He felt like it was a body dump. 

It was pouring the rain. The grave digger had just finished covering her up. The noise of the backhoe. The smell of diesel fuel didn’t seem right in a cemetery. Miss Ruby deserved better. 

The man hopped down from the back hoe.

“We should say something?” Tom suggested.

The man spat, “bye.” He flicked his head backwards.

Tom placed the roses at what he hoped was her head. “Goodbye Miss Ruby.”

Tears rolled down Tom’s face freely. He was holding his new born baby daughter in his arms. “Do you really want to name her Ruby?” His wife murmured. 

“Please. I know it’s old timey. And no one in our family’s is named Ruby.”

“Ruby Sue,” she whispered, falling asleep. 

“Ruby Sue.” He kissed her forehead. 

The End