Cobbler

Never could get her to call me Art.

Time passed, as it always has. The kids grew and married. Our grandchildren were born and raised in the family traditions. Life was good and we made many happy memories.

For our 30th anniversary, I surprised Ma-Ri with a trip to Korea. We went as a family. I wanted her to reunite her parents, as she had planned and it was time to introduce the kids to their Korean roots.

Ma-Ri managed to chase down a few relatives, her father's younger brother, her maternal grandmother and several cousins. They joined us for the spreading of Eomma's ashes. Now they were together for all time.

I retired from Rambler (now Chrysler) a few years before the plant was permanently closed. They'd stopped car production in the late 80's and only made engines for those last years. I was one of the lucky few that didn't get laid off or moved to another plant. In the long run, I guess it didn't matter, the heart of Kenosha stopped beating that cold October day in 2010. Bastards!

Ma-Ri and I enjoyed our later years. She remained a force of nature in the bedroom well into our sixties. We still had an active and varied sex life after that, just a bit less frequent and intense. No complaints here.

I look back and remember all of this from a hospital bed. Heart attacks aren't much fun, trust me on that one. One minute I'm eating dinner with the love of my life, the next I'm in an ambulance with an elephant sitting on my chest.

The doctors aren't optimistic.

Ma-Ri hasn't left my side the entire time I've been here. The family, kids, grandkids and even a couple of great-grandkids have been in to see me. They try to be upbeat, but I can see the fear and sadness in their eyes. Dad died of a heart attack about 15 years ago. Mom followed not long after. She just couldn't go on without him.

Ma-Ri is asleep in the chair next to my bed holding my hand. God, I love her so much. She has been my love and my life for all this time. It's been almost 70 years since I found her surrounded by that angry mob. I'm a lucky man.

"Hey little brother." A voice shakes me from my reverie. I look up, stunned, to see Richard standing at the foot of my bed. He looked just as I remembered him at Thanksgiving dinner all those years ago.

"Richard?" I question. "How?"

Smiling, he answers. "I'll explain everything when we get there. Let's go, Mom made cobbler."