THE SIXTY-SECOND PAGE
Things immediately got messy that morning. I didn’t need to feel his pulse to know what had just happened. Even if you’ve not experienced death, you know when it has occurred.
I called the police, explaining there was no need to hurry, but their services were required. The body, having made a few minor adjustments, was available for the next step, which it could no longer take on its own.
I knew of no one else to call. Throwing out his medication supply apparently had not been enough. Apparently at some point after meeting me he had destroyed his credit cards, driver’s license, and passport. He had refused to tell me his name and said I should call him whatever I felt like. We had our own names for each other. When the police arrived, I could not tell them his name.
At this, I broke down for the first time since the night he said he was not saying goodbye. I realized that in wiping out his identity, making himself wholly dependent on me, he had given over to me the balance of his life as if he was once again a baby.
I suspect he had not considered my shaky management of the police, who were polite, as they made arrangements in preparation for cremation at a local cemetery.