第6章 最后的告白

Words from the Heart

佚名/Anonymous

多数人都喜欢听“我爱你”这三个小巧可爱的字眼。有时他们会在最需要时听到。

我看到康尼的那天，她刚被送到收容所的病房，而我则是那儿的志愿者。她的丈夫比尔不安地站在旁边，看着她从轮床被抬到病床上。康尼虽然已到了癌症晚期，但仍神清气爽。安顿好她后，我把收容所发放给她的所有用品都标上了她的名字，然后又问她是否还需要别的东西。

“哦，”她说，“那么请您告诉我怎样用电视好吗？我很喜欢看肥皂剧，不想错过任何故事情节。”康尼是个追求浪漫的人。她爱看肥皂剧、浪漫小说和言情电影。我们日渐熟识，她向我抱怨说，她有多么失望，与一个常称她为“傻女人”的男人共同生活了32年。

“哦，我知道比尔深爱着我，”她说，“可是他从不说他爱我，也从未给我寄过贺卡。”她叹了口气，把目光投向窗外庭院里的树林。“如果他能对我说‘我爱你’，让我付出一切我都在所不惜，可是那根本不是他的作风。”

每天比尔都来看望康尼。开始，康尼看肥皂剧时，他就坐在床边陪她。后来，她睡觉的时候多了，比尔便在病房外的走廊里踱来踱去。不久后，康尼不再看电视了，清醒的时候也不多了，于是我有了更多的时间与比尔相处。

他说他是个木匠，非常爱钓鱼。他和康尼没有孩子，他们到处游玩以享受退休后的时光，直至康尼病倒。面对妻子病危的事实，他内心的感受是无以言表的。

一天，在自助餐馆喝咖啡时，我和比尔谈起了关于女人的话题，并谈到了生活中浪漫对我们的重要性以及我们对洋溢着柔情蜜意的卡片和情书的渴望。

“你告诉康尼你爱她了吗？”我明知故问道。他注视着我，仿佛我神经错乱了。

“没那必要，”他说道，“她知道我非常爱她！”

“我也确信她是知道的，”说着，我把手伸过去，碰到了他的手，那是一双木工的粗糙的手。这双手紧握着杯子，似乎那是他唯一可以抓住的东西。“但是她需要听那句话，比尔。她需要听你说，这些年她对你意味着什么。你该考虑一下。”

我们回到康尼的病房。比尔进去了，我去看另一个病人了。而后，我看见比尔坐到床边，握着熟睡中的康尼的一只手。那天是2月12日。

两天后的中午，我沿着收容所病房的过道走着。我看到比尔靠墙站在那儿，目光呆滞地看着地面。我已经从护士那儿得知，康尼上午11时走了。

比尔看到我，扑到我怀里哭了许久。他满脸泪痕，全身颤抖。后来，他向后倚在墙上，深深地吸了口气。

“我有些话要说，”他说道，“而且非说不可，我想说，能够告诉她真的感觉好极了。”他顿了顿，吸了吸鼻子。“你说的话，让我想了很多；今天早上我对她说了，我非常爱她，我为能娶到她而感到幸福。你真该看看她那时灿烂的笑容！”

我去了康尼的病房，与她道别。我看到床头柜上放着一张大大的情人节贺卡，那是比尔送给她的。那张满载着浓情蜜意的贺卡上写着：“献给我的爱妻……我爱你！”

Most people need to hear those three little words "I love you". Once in a while， they hear them just in time.

I met Connie the day she was admitted to the hospice ward， where I worked as a volunteer.Her husband， Bill， stood nervously nearby as she was transferred from the gurney to the hospital bed.Although Connie was in the final stages of her fight against cancer， she was alert and cheerful.We got her settled in.I finished marking her name on all the hospital supplies she would be using， then asked if she needed anything.

"Oh， yes，" she said， "would you please show me how to use the TV？ I enjoy the soaps so much and I don't want to get behind on what's happening." Connie was a romantic.She loved soap operas， romance novels and movies with a good love story.As we became acquainted， she confided how frustrating it was to be married 32 years to a man who often called her "a silly woman".

"Oh， I know Bill loves me，" she said， "but he has never been one to say he loves me， or send cards to me." She sighed and looked out the window at the trees in the courtyard. "I'd give anything if he'd say 'I love you'， but it's just not in his nature."

Bill visited Connie every day.In the beginning， he sat next to the bed while she watched the soaps.Later， when she began sleeping more， he paced up and down the hallway outside her room.Soon， when she no longer watched television and had fewer waking moments， I began spending more of my volunteer time with Bill.

He talked about having worked as a carpenter and how he liked to go fishing.He and Connie had no children， but they'd been enjoying retirement by traveling， until Connie got sick.Bill could not express his feelings about the fact that his wife was dying.

One day， over coffee in the cafeteria， I got him on the subject of women and how we need romance in our lives； how we love to get sentimental cards and love letters.

"Do you tell Connie you love her？" I asked (knowing his answer)， and he looked at me as if I was crazy.

"I don't have to，" he said. "She knows I do！"

"I'm sure she knows，" I said， reaching over and touching his rough， carpenter's hands that were gripping the cup as if it were the only thing he had to hang onto. "But she needs to hear it， Bill.She needs to hear what she has meant to you all these years.Please think about it."

We walked back to Connie's room.Bill disappeared inside， and I left to visit another patient.Later， I saw Bill sitting by the bed.He was holding Connie's hand as she slept.The date was February 12th.

Two days later I walked down the hospice ward at noon.There stood Bill， leaning up against the wall in the hallway， staring at the floor.I already knew from the head nurse that Connie had died at 11 a.m…

When Bill saw me， he allowed himself to come into my arms for a long time.His face was wet with tears and he was trembling.Finally， he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.

"I have to say something，" he said. "I have to say how good I feel about telling her." He stopped to blow his nose. "I thought a lot about what you said， and this morning I told her how much I loved her… and loved being married to her.You should have seen her smile！"

I went into the room to say my own good-bye to Connie.There， on the bedside table， was a large Valentine card from Bill.You know， the sentimental kind that says， "To my wonderful wife …I love you."