The Key

The Key Ever have a day or moment you knew was a milestone? A day you Felt as a person that you had moved on? Today was that day for me. Fredy's apartment key was still on my car keys. I brought them everywhere, even though He died five years ago, We were together eight years ago. I just couldn't bare to remove them. To me, it meant removing Him or somehow removin his memory. A link. The keys meant he had lived . Proof. Proof I was part of his existence. And him, part of mine. No matter how grim the end was. No matter the face I looked upon that day he was alive, no more. Me, in Love still. Today, at the nursing home, I had a very confused but grateful patient. In fact, he reminded me a lot of my grandfather. Although very happy & in the moment, he often worry about his lost house keys. He was perseverating on his keys today, again, unable to focus on anything else during rehab. "My Keys!" he shouted, "God, I had keys now I will have to buy more!" It was all he focused on again and again the whole hour. Remembering my spare, I ran to my bag, removing Freddys apartment key. Why do I need this? I asked myself. These keys , to me, mean nothing but death and sadness. As I pulled the green top piece off of them, I saw an anonymous key emerge. The key that meant nothing to me, that would help and anxious, lost and dying man. After all, Fredy was beyond help. Now Fredy was gone. But, I could use these to help others. He would want me to. It's time I realized that. As I zipped the key into the old man's pocket , his frown turned to a large smile "Thank you you kind lady. You have eased my pain. Now I have my key. Now I am happy. I can get into my house and return to my family." He smiled warmly, grabbing my hand. He slouched back in his wheelchair with a smile, finally calm. I knew that the patient would not go home. But, why not ease a worried mind with this key. The key that seems to be always tormenting him. Perhaps, we are both the same. Perhaps it is I who should thank him. Thank him for relieving me of my sadness. Sent from my iPhone