The white-haired lady lay on the bed wrapped in a crocheted white shawl. She was clutching a white plastic rosary. Her body was so small, so shrunken that the sheets looked almost flat. Her hands, clutching each other on top of the sheets were gnarled and lined, and her skin was like dried daffodils. Her wedding band gleamed rose gold, as if it had just been polished, glinting against the tired skin. Her eyes were closed and yet still she saw clearly. Looking straight ahead she saw her sisters in the distance, waving and smiling at her… She saw her mother and father in the distance, blurred at first but clearer as they walked towards her… Just in front of her though, she saw her husband sitting on a bench, his wicked smile and twinkling eyes directed at her. He looked happy and relaxed, but then in the way he had done for the last 61 years he tapped his watch and said “Mary! Come on… We’re waiting for you!”. At this, the dog curled up at his feet got up and looked at the old lady and started to bark with excitement. His tail wagged, he stood proud and happy… The old lady smiled. “Just a minute” she said… Tried to say… She formed the words with her dry lips, the air moved as it would move if a feather drifted past… “I’m almost ready”. Her husband stood up and started walking towards her, arms outstretched, laughing. ”Come on, it’s started” he said… “May I have this dance?” – he put on an upper class accent, smiling. And she could hear the sound of “Rock around the Clock” in the distance. She kicked the sheets away – she tried to – to step forwards, body already moving in time to the music. But she didn’t kick the sheets away, her feet barely moved, yet she could feel the grass under her bare feet, cool, soft and springy… She reached out to her husband, to grasp his hands in hers… She felt them close on two hands, but they were the wrong hands. Small hands, dainty hands, not strong hands to guide her through the dance, through her life… She realized one hand belonged to her sister, the other to her daughter. “Wait, she whispered to her husband. A few minutes more”. His image faded, though she could still hear the music and could see shadow people dancing – bright lights, swirling skirts… She could feel the music beat throughout her body, started swaying with it, yet could no longer feel her own heartbeat. Alongside this, though, she heard her sister’s voice, telling her about the church concert they were organizing for the next week. She tried to listen, but the music was too loud… Her sister fell silent, and her daughter’s voice drifted into her consciousness in its place. This she could hear clearly, above the music… “It’s ok” she said. “I’m ok, Mum… You can go to Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be ok. I know you love me, Mum. I love you.” The old lady felt her daughter squeeze her hand gently, she both heard and felt the words – in her head, in her whole body, in her heart. And then suddenly they weren’t her sister’s and her daughter’s hands, they were her husband’s strong hands again, and she was walking forwards with him, dancing, laughing… The music had changed. She could hear Nat King Cole singing “Walking My Baby Back Home”, getting louder as she stepped forwards with her husband, walking towards her parents and her sisters, the dog running around her, barking excitedly… She couldn’t just hear Nat King Cole, she could see him. Just there, just in front of her. “Hello Mary” he shouted between the lyrics. “Welcome to the dance!”… She sighed, and as she did so it felt for moment as if her wedding ring was falling off… She let go of her husband’s hand briefly, touched her ring finger, but no, her golden band was still there, gleaming as always. She grasped his hand again and stepped forwards, towards the party.
Next to the bed her sister said to her daughter. “She’s going now, listen”. The daughter listened to the breathing, which seemed to quicken as if in excitement. Then it slowed and almost stopped. Almost stopped. And then that was it… One last sigh and as the lungs emptied for the last time, her daughter felt the room change. Where before she’d felt comfort, safety, and love, the room now felt empty and cold… As the last breath left her mother’s body, she slid the wedding band off her mother’s finger, as she’d promised she would, and slipped it onto her own. It felt to her that her mother’s last breath was still there, trapped within the atoms of the gold band that her father had given to her mother 59 and a half years ago… The room still felt empty and cold, but she felt comforted again. Safe and loved… and she knew without a doubt that her mother’s body was empty and that she was alone.
“Eventually, however, the denial turned into emptiness and my childhood ended.”
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