With a twinge of longing in his eyes, local grandfather Ernie Komiskey stared at the roast turkey in the center of the Thanksgiving spread, wishing he could join it in death.
Komiskey, 93, fantasized about the sweet release of his end and envied the five-pound bird. His family mistook the jealousy as hunger.
"Boy, Dad's really been scoping out the turkey this year," son Paul Komiskey said. "It's such a shame his doctors say he can't have too much. Maybe I'll make an exception."
Single and barely ambulatory, Komiskey lacks the autonomy to take care of himself. He has lived in an assisted-living home for seven years, supported by his children and Medicare.
"Look at that bird there," Komiskey thought to himself. "Must be nice. No diapers. No cane. Just death."
Komiskey would not disclose such sentiments to his family, fearing it would crush them. Instead, he feigned excitement.
"When the hell are we gonna eat already?" he lamented, eliciting laughs.
However, Komiskey remained fixated on the ideal of mortality.
"I wish they would just let me die," he thought. If I knew what I know now, I would have taken my life when I was still able."
At press time, Komiskey took his eyes off the deceased turkey to be helped to the bathroom, hoping it would be the last such trip.
