Tag Archives: funeral

SHE WAS LAID TO REST

I received the call very late at night, long after I went to bed. Long after, I finally fell asleep. I heard the phone ringing. But my mind refused to acknowledge it. We all know that good news never arrives after midnight. And this call was no exception to that maxim.

In the morning, after my first cup of coffee, I notice the message light on my phone is blinking. I look at the caller ID. It’s my Great Aunt Maeve’s number. I can’t remember the last time I heard from her. The fact is, I thought she died decades ago. I haven’t kept in touch with that side of the family. Too Catholic, you know. Too old school. Too judgmental.

My life choices would not bear scrutiny. Not that I’m a serial killer or anything that drastic. Just that, well, let’s say I believe the ten commandments have some flexibility in them, some leeway, if you know what I mean. For instance, it’s not that bad to lie as long as you aren’t hurting anyone with that lie. It’s not that bad if you steal, as long as it isn’t hurting anyone personally. And if the money isn’t missed by anyone, then what’s the harm?

Besides, the church doesn’t believe in drinking or playing the horses or gambling at all, for that matter, unless it’s Bingo. But really, how is that any of their business anyway? What’s the problem with the occasional pint, or ten pints for that matter? Isn’t hurting anyone else, is it? No, of course, it isn’t. Get over yourself. Mind your own business. That’s what I say. Mind your own damn business.

I push the message button.  It isn’t my Great Aunt Maeve. It’s her granddaughter Katie. I always had kind of a crush on her. She was a real Irish beauty back in the day. Hair down to her waist, as dark as coal and so thick your fingers would get lost in it. Her eyes, well, they were that shade of blue that looks like blue ice. Light blue, deep as the ocean. You could drown in those eyes. Her body was a young man’s dream. Sometimes I couldn’t get to sleep at all at night just from thinking about her.

“What’s that, you say? Isn’t she’s your cousin?” Yeah, sure, she’s my cousin. But not my first cousin. What’s the harm, I say? We were young, and it was all very innocent — just a kiss or two, nothing more. Oh, get over yourself.

Anyway, Katie is letting me know that Aunt Maeve has passed over to the great beyond. She tells me the funeral is in three days. And, of course, after the funeral will be the traditional Irish Wake. Well, ordinarily, I avoid funerals like the plague. But an Irish Wake well that I wouldn’t miss even if it were going to be my own goddamn wake. Especially then, I guess. She tells me that the funeral is at 10:30 on Friday morning at Holy Mackerel Church. OK, so that’s not the real name.

It’s really called St. Patrick’s. It’s in Gloucester City, NJ. Don’t let anyone ever tell you the Irish have any creativity. Every other church and child’s name is Patrick. Even after the church admitted, there never was a real St. Patrick. They just continued naming every child and church after him. The Irish lot is about as stubborn as they get; don’t let anyone tell you any differently.

Well, no doubt about it, I was going to have to fortify myself in the next couple of days with some good booze and beer. If I am going to survive a week with my family. I’ll have to be good and drunk and stay that way if my psyche will survive the inquisition that every cousin, aunt, or uncle is going to put me through. But, not to worry, I’ve had years of practice — years of training. I’m up to the challenge. Ready or not, here I come.

So here I’m on my way to the funeral. I have Radar Love cracked up as high as possible. I get off the freeway to buy a six-pack of Old Milwaukee. Yeah, I know not a beer of choice unless you like the taste of armpit, but it brings you right down to earth. And that’s what you need when you are going to spend more than a week with the dearly departed and your loved ones.

As I pull off Route 130 onto Market Street in Gloucester, NJ, I have an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. It could be nausea, could be I drank too much. But I doubt that since I have a pretty high tolerance for alcohol in any form. As I see the house at the end of the street, I realize I feel like that kid I was long ago that left home at twenty. Angry, resentful, lonely.

Indeed, I didn’t come back as a war hero or successful businessman.  But hell, I’m a tin knocker. When I work, I make pretty decent money. When I don’t, I live on unemployment until the Union calls me back. That’s life if you work in construction.

I pull my 1971 El Camino next to the curb and stare over at the house. It looks the same. It’s a two-story stucco with faded shutters and a red front door with black hinges. My Uncle Hugh just loved to paint everything black and red. He was quite the character. Heavyset with those light blue eyes. And could be mean as a snake if you got on his wrong side. He was the one that caught Katie and me kissing on the couch in the basement.

The lilac bush was overgrown, and the grass hadn’t been cut in a long time.

But still, it’s the house where I spent most of his youth. My Aunt Maeve took care of me every summer. She fed me Lebanon bologna and cheese. Or sometimes fried bologna sandwiches with chicken noodle soup. Every Sunday, she made a different kind of cake for dessert. My favorite was chocolate cake with vanilla icing sprinkled with shredded coconuts. It was the only day they ate roast beef and noodles. I can almost smell it while I stand here on the porch.

I have my hand poised, ready to knock, but at the last moment, I grasp the doorknob and turn it. The door opens, and I hear a chorus of voices all talking at the same time. Aunt Aileen yells out,” it’s our Danny standing at the door like a stranger. ”Come in, come in and give us a kiss for the love of god. Has the cat got your tongue?”

“Hello, Aunt Aileen. It’s been a long time. You look great.”

“Oh, get on with you. You must have kissed the blarney stone. Say hello to your Uncle Pat.”

“Hello, Uncle Pat.”  He’s sitting on an ancient upholstered rocking chair. There’s duct tape holding it together. He’s even fatter than I remember. He’s wearing a red and white striped shirt with a pocket. In the pocket are his Pall Mall cigarettes. He lost all of his hair, which was thinning even back when I was a kid. I can smell the nicotine on him from two feet away. The lampshade on the coffee table next to him is stained yellow from years of exposure to Uncle Pat’s smoking unfiltered Pall Malls.

“Well, I may have put on a pound or two. You’re a grown man Danny, but I would have recognized you anywhere. So, what have you been up to? What kind of work are you doing these days?”

“I’m a tin knocker, Uncle Pat, just like my dad. I’m sorry I didn’t come back for his funeral. I didn’t hear about it until long after. I was in the middle of moving at the time. And staying with a friend. I should have kept in touch.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Sit down, take a load off.  Your Aunt Aileen will get you something to eat. There’s enough to feed an army, as usual. I hope you brought your appetite with you. You’re a bit on the scrawny side, if you don’t mind me saying. But your Aunt Aileen will fill you out, don’t you worry. She’ll be right back with a plate.”

Danny plops down on the couch. He could swear it was the same couch he remembered from his childhood. They must have finally taken the plastic cover off.  He looks around the room, and there’re some familiar faces. Older than he remembered, but still, he would know them anywhere. Danny doesn’t see Katie anywhere. Maybe she’s in the kitchen. It’s loud in here.  Irish music is playing in the background. He thinks it’s the Clancy Brothers. When he was a teenager, he couldn’t stand hearing all the Irish tunes.

At that moment, he hears his Aunt Liz calling out, “Danny, Danny, my boy, where is he? Oh, there you are. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come here, give us a hug.”

Danny stands up and walks over to her and is crushed in her bosomy embrace. When he catches his breath, he looks up at her. Her face bears the weight of the years and all the pain she has to carry.” “Hello, Aunt Liz, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time. You look good. Is Katie here? I haven’t seen her?”

“Oh, sure, she’ll be here in a  shake of a lamb’s tail.  Oh, I’ve forgotten how you two used to be as thick as thieves when you were kids. I’m so happy you came. I wish you had come back before Maeve left us. She talked about you all the time, and you were the light of her life. Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me and you can fix a plate? You look half-starved, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Danny follows his Aunt Liz into the kitchen. It looks as if time has stood still in this kitchen. It’s still painted a cream-colored stained with years of nicotine. The linoleum floor remained in the orange and brown checkered board pattern. Tracks are worn into the tile surface from forty years of foot traffic.

Danny walks over to the narrow cabinet next to the refrigerator and opens it. The ironing board is still neatly hidden within its depths. The General Electric refrigerator had been replaced by a more recent and larger one. And the chandelier which once graced the ceiling is now a fluorescent light fixture. Danny’s Uncle Hugh had an artistic streak and often replaced everyday household items with his creations.

Take a load off Danny. Danny pulls out the chair and sits down. His Aunt puts a plate down in front of him. Danny looks down, and his plate is so full there isn’t an inch of space that isn’t covered with food. He picks up his fork and starts shoveling it in. He hadn’t eaten a home-cooked meal in years. Mostly his diet consisted of fast food and bologna and cheese sandwiches, followed by a six-pack of Michelob.

When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him because his plate is entirely empty. And they all start laughing. Danny is embarrassed at first, but then he too joins in the laughter. He didn’t realize how hungry he had been.

“Well, you poor thing, are you still hungry? Do you want some dessert? We have some homemade chocolate cake with vanilla icing with coconut on top. What do you say?”

“I’m pretty full, but yeah, I would love a piece of homemade cake.”

His Aunt Liz hands him a huge piece of cake, and a cup of coffee, so strong Danny tastes the caffeine before he swallows any. After he finishes, he rubs his stomach and exhales. “ God, that was the best meal I’ve had in years. Probably since the last time I ate since the last time I was here. Thanks so much.”

As Danny looked around at all the faces at the table, he noticed there were tears on his Aunt’s and Uncle’s cheeks. At the same time, he realizes there are tears running down his own cheeks.

His Aunt Liz comes over and hugs him. “Oh, Danny, we have all missed you so much. It’s sad that losing Maeve’s passing is what it took for us to get you back. But I know that she would be thrilled to see you sitting back at her table.”

Danny looked up at her. ”Aunt Liz, I didn’t realize how much I missed all of you. Aunt Maeve was the closest thing I had to a mother. I guess I couldn’t get over all the anger I had when I left. I just wanted to block out all the angry words between my dad and me. And then he died, and I felt so guilty. That I hadn’t come back and made it right, I couldn’t face the funeral. I’m glad I come back now. It’s hard to be in the world without anyone caring what happens to you.”

“Oh, Danny, we did care. We all love you. We never stopped. OK, no more tears today. Let’s try to remember the good times we all had with Maeve.”

The next morning Danny comes downstairs from his old bedroom dressed for the funeral and feels a sudden emptiness.  On some level, he was expecting his Aunt Maeve to be sitting at the table drinking her tea and reading the paper. He did hear his Uncles and Aunts talking quietly together. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

“Good morning Danny, how did you sleep? I guess your childhood bed was a bit uncomfortable for you.”

“I slept fine. I fell right to sleep and slept through the night. What time will we be leaving for the funeral?”

“In an hour. Danny, we would like it if you were one of the pallbearers, and I would like you to get up and say a few words about Maeve. You were such a big part of her life. She would have liked that. What do you have to say?”

“Well, I’m not much on public speaking, but yeah, I’d like to say a few words. After we eat, I’ll go upstairs and write down some of my memories of Aunt Maeve. I hope I don’t mess it up.”

“Danny, just speak from your heart. You never had any faith in yourself. But we do. We always did.”

“OK, I will do my best, Uncle Hugh.”

After breakfast, Danny went upstairs and started thinking about his Aunt Maeve and how much she meant to him. And how much she had loved him and accepted him just the way he was. If it hadn’t been for her, Danny would have left long before he got out of high school. His father was a falling-down drunk and used him as a punching bag. His mother had left when he was about three or four. He had very few memories of her at all.

Without his Aunt Maeve, he wouldn’t have survived his childhood. As he thought about that, he realized how much he missed by not keeping in touch with her for the past ten years. He can’t do anything about the past. But he can do something about the here and now. He starts writing.

It’s time for Danny to step up to the pulpit. He clears his throat and looks up and out at all the people who came to acknowledge his Aunt Maeve’s passing but also celebrate her life. He sees his cousin Katie in the first row. She nods at him and lifts her chin up. It’s a signal they used to use to give each other support. When they were young and, things got tough. He lifted his chin to her.

“Good morning, everyone. We are all gathered here to mourn the loss of someone dear to us, someone we will all miss. She will leave an empty space in our lives that she used to fill. But I hope we can fill that space with all the loving memories we have of Aunt Maeve.

For me, she was that safe place I could go when I felt all alone and unloved. She would cook a hot meal. She always gave me a warm and loving hug and a kiss on my cheek. She assured me that I was a person of value. And that I was someone that she loved and would always love, no matter what. She accepted me for who I was and never told me I wasn’t good enough, not smart enough, or not good-looking enough. She held my hand and warmed my heart.

My life was richer for having known her. When I talked to her, she listened. She heard and cared. She was never too busy. She was always there for me. I can see by the way you are nodding your heads that she did the same thing for each of you. We were blessed by having to know her. She was both strong and soft at the same time. I can only hope that someday I can inspire someone else the way she inspired me always to work hard and do my best. So, as we go forward in our lives, let us keep her in our hearts and minds. I know she will be traveling with me throughout my journey through life. I will always feel her by my side, and I will never be alone again.

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THE LETTERS

I received a call last night. I was informed that my father had passed away. And I had a week to clean out my father’s apartment, or all his worldly belongings would be disposed of in the nearest dumpster. I knew this day was coming, but I kept putting off the unpleasant task of emptying my father’s place of whatever meager things my father had left behind.

My father and I had lost touch long ago. After my mother passed away suddenly fifteen years ago, my father just disappeared after her funeral. I never heard from him again. My parents hadn’t lived together for years. And when they did live together, every day ended with them yelling and screaming at one another. When I was a kid, I thought everyone’s family was like ours. I can’t remember a time when they were happy together. I never brought my friends over to my house. And once I became a teenager, I made it my goal in life to spend as little time at home as possible.

The day I graduated from high school, I got on a bus and never returned to my hometown. I called my mother occasionally and let her know that I was alright. But I didn’t give her my address. Since I didn’t want my father to show up at my door unexpectedly. Looking for a handout, or worse yet, drunk and angry at the world and wanting to take it out on me. Like he did when I was a kid, I was his punching bag. I never wanted to see him again.

I had difficulty locating my father when my mother died of a heart attack when she was fifty-six. Finally, I was able to get in touch with an old friend of his who still occasionally kept in touch with me. My father and I used to go to the track together to bet on the horses. And they played cards for money. My father was a gambler, and his favorite place in the world was the casinos in Atlantic City.

Anyway, the night I called him, I said, “Hello, dad, it’s me.” And he answered,”what do you want?”

“Want, I don’t want anything from you. I doubt you have a pot to piss in any way. I’m calling to let you know that Mom died on Friday; she had a heart attack. I thought you might want to know. Anyway, the funeral is being held at Brown’s Funeral Home since Mom hadn’t been to church in years. It will be at 10:30 in the morning.”

“Well, you didn’t give me much warning, did ya?’ I don’t know if I can come. I’ve got my own life to live, you know. I just can’t drop everything on a dime .”

“Dad, like I said, she died suddenly, and I had trouble finding you. Your friend, Freddy Myers, finally was able to track you down, and he gave me your phone number. It’s up to you whether you want to come or not. It doesn’t make any difference to me one way or another.” And then I slammed the phone down. And hope I will never have to see or hear that old scoundrel again as long as I live.

Anyway, he showed up at the funeral late, but not too late. He looked rough. He had a suit on that looked like he picked it up at the local thrift store. But at least he made some effort. If I had met him on the street, I might not have recognized him. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in years and spent his time drinking night and day. It kind of made me feel bad, but he lived the life he wanted, and there was no changing the past. I walked over to him and offered him my hand to shake, and he looked down at it like it was a rattlesnake or something. I said, “Hello, dad, I’m glad you came. Why don’t you go up and say your goodbyes to Mom. You did come all this way. I wouldn’t want it to be for nothing.“

And then he turned and headed towards the casket where my mother laid. My father stood there in silence, and then he reached down and touched her hair and hand. I saw his shoulders rise and fall, and I could hear him sobbing quietly. I felt a tear slowly make its way down my cheek and fall to the ground and then another followed.

My father turned and walked slowly out of the chapel and out the front door. He never turned around and waved goodbye or anything. He just walked out of my life again, probably for the last time. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. A friend of mine came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. He held me for a moment, and then he stepped back. He looked down, and then he said, “it’s hard to lose a parent even if they weren’t the best parent. They were the only ones we ever had. Come on, why don’t you come over and say hello to some old friends from high school. It’s been a long time.”

I never heard another word from my father. I had no idea how he kept body and soul together all those years. I never married for fear that I would just repeat the mistakes my parents made. And god forbid bring children into the world to suffer the same empty, lonely childhood I had.

And the next time I heard anything about him was the night I received a call that my father had passed away, and he had left my name and address, and phone number to contact upon his death. I have no idea how he knew where I lived or how he got my phone number. In a way, I was relieved that I had heard about his passing. It gave me some peace of mind that he wouldn’t show up at my door someday. And also, I could finally put the past behind me. Anyway, I told my father’s landlord that I would be over that next day to clean out the place and take my father’s belongings away. I wasn’t looking forward to it, not at all. I was dreading it. But I knew it would finally close this unhappy chapter of my life, and I could finally move on.

The next morning I woke up at the crack of dawn. I kept obsessing about having to go to my father’s place and how it would bring all the bad memories back to haunt me. It turned out he only lived about an hour and a half away from me. When I arrived at his address, I looked up and down the street, and I thought what a terrible place for someone to live the last years of their life, all alone. There was trash up and down the street on the curb and blowing up and down from one nasty, sad place after another. There was a homeless man asleep or high or dead lying next to the door of my father’s building. I couldn’t help but wonder if my father had ever slept on the curb after he went on a bender.

I stepped around the homeless man and walked up the steps, and rang on the door to be let in. No one answered, so I tried the door, and it turned out it wasn’t locked. So, I just pulled it open and stepped inside. The smell was horrendous. There was trash up the steps, and one step had what looked like blood on it. I took a deep breath and made my way carefully up the steps to the second floor of my father’s place. The door was locked, so I had to go down the steps again and knock at the door that said, Superintendent of the building. I almost laughed aloud, thinking this dump has a superintendent. It didn’t look like anybody had cleaned this place up since the depression. I rang the bell, and a middle-aged, balding fat man answered. He said, “Yeah, what do ya want?” I told him who I was and that I was here to clean out my father’s apartment. You called me yesterday. “Oh, yeah, that’s right; here’s the key. Go ahead and bring the key back when you are done. Your father was in apartment 2 B; he lived here for a long time, never had any trouble with him.” And then he slammed the door in my face.

I made my way to the apartment. I unlocked the apartment and stuck my head into the room. I don’t know what I expected. But I was surprised to see it was clean and neat. There was an older TV, a raggedy but clean couch, and a single bed that was stripped clean of sheets and blankets. I looked into the bathroom. It was also clean and neat. I thought I must have the wrong room. My father had never been clean or neat. He had never picked up his clothes and hung them up. He had just thrown them on the floor and yelled at my mother, get in and clean up this mess. Before I make you sorry.”

I looked in the drawers, and there were some clothes all neatly folded. I looked in the closet, and there was an old suit. I think it was the same one that he wore to my mother’s funeral. There were a couple of pairs of shoes. All that had seen better days. I looked up, and I saw a wooden box. It was the nicest thing in the whole place. I took it down from the shelf and looked inside. There were old letters inside the box. And they were in my mother’s handwriting. And there were several in my father’s handwriting. I was so shocked that I almost dropped the box.

I decided to go sit on the couch and read the letters. They were addressed to my father and the dates indicated that they were written before my parents had gotten married. I was shocked. I knew nothing of my parents’ lives before they got married. I began to read the letter with the oldest postmark. It was a love letter from my mother to my father. In it, she declared how much she missed my father and how much she looked forward to being reunited with him again. And how she knew they were going to have a wonderful life together.

I was absolutely flabbergasted. My mother and father were once deeply in love? I felt tears run down my face. I looked through the letters for the last post-marked letter. It was from my father. He wrote to my mother that he had been injured and would be coming home soon because he wouldn’t be able to continue to fight any longer. Since he had suffered some severe injuries. He told her he was no longer the man he used to be, and maybe she should find someone else.

The next letter was from my mother saying that she loved him dearly and she wanted him to come home to her and she would help him recover. She would wait for him, and she didn’t want anyone else. And she ended the letter with, “I will wait for as long as it takes, and I will love you forever.” And she signed it, “all my love, I will be waiting for you for as long as it takes.”

I could hardly believe my eyes and understand the words I had just read. I know I would spend the rest of my days trying to understand what went wrong between them. And wish that they had experienced a better life together than they had. I can only imagine that my father had suffered both physically and emotionally from whatever he suffered during the war. I felt broken-hearted for the young couple they must have been and the unfortunate life they lived after his return. But in the end, I was happy to find that at one time, they had been in love and hoped to have a happy life together, but I felt sorry that it did not work out the way that it should have. That is what happens in life sometimes. Our plans for a happy and fulfilling life doesn’t always turn out as we hope it will. I held the letters next to my heart for a few minutes. I slipped the love letters back into their box, and I knew that they would forever remind me that life is short and to make the very best of it that we can. And if we find someone to love and who loves us back, we should never let it go.

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THE GARDEN OF TEARS

It seems like a lifetime ago but it really wasn’t. It was only a year ago that I had lost all faith in myself and my life so much so that I didn’t feel like living anymore. It all began when I was involved in a serious car accident. I was driving along Route 70 in Cherry Hill. I was taking my mother to her eye doctor. She only had vision in one of her eyes because she had a detached retina the year before and her eye doctor was unable to repair it.

My mom was sitting in the front passenger seat. Out of nowhere a semi-truck in front of me lost control of his vehicle when someone cut in front of him and he was unable to slow down quickly enough and he hit the car and I rear-ended him. And then a car behind me hit my car. That’s the last thing I remember. 

When I woke up or perhaps became conscious I found myself in the emergency room of a hospital. The first words out of my mouth were, “is my mother alright? She was with me in my car. Is my mother alright?”

The nurse that was standing next to me took a hold of my hand and said, “I’ll go get the doctor.”

“No wait, wait just tell me that my mother is alright.”

The next thing I knew there was a tired-looking bespectacled and bald doctor standing next to my bed. He said, “Miss Reynolds, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but unfortunately your mother was very seriously injured and she passed away on the way to the hospital. There was nothing we could do.”

“What? No that can’t be true. We were just on the way to her eye doctor’s. It’s a twenty-five-minute drive from our house. She can’t have died. She’s the only family that I have left. The tears started running down my cheeks. I felt my heart break. I mean I literally felt my heart break in two. There was a tremendous weight in my chest. I couldn’t understand how I could still be alive and breathing. My chest started to hurt, I couldn’t breathe.

The doctor called out for the nurse to bring the defibrillator stat. The next thing I remember is when I woke up I felt confused. I didn’t immediately recall what had happened. There were all kinds of tubes in me and on me. There was something in my throat and I couldn’t talk. And then a doctor and a nurse appeared out of nowhere. And they started checking all the tubes and my pulse.

The doctor said, “Miss Reynolds, please try to calm down. Do you remember where you are?”

I tried to calm down. I slowed down my breathing and counted to fifty. My mother used to tell me to do that when I got upset. As I thought of my mother, it all came rushing back to me. And the tears started streaming down my face again.

“Miss Reynolds please try to remain calm. You had a mild heart attack. You’re going to be alright. But you must keep calm. I’m going to ask you some questions. Please don’t try to talk, just nod or shake your head from left to right. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head up and down.

“Are you having any chest pain or difficulty breathing?”

I moved my head from left to right slightly.

“Alright you’re doing well, now try to take slow, easy breaths. It doesn’t look like any serious damage was done to your heart. I have no doubt that you will recover completely. I want you to stay here for another twenty-four hours and we will monitor your heart and your overall condition. And send you home with some medication and the name of a cardiologist that you should see in about two weeks. He will take over your care. And once again I want to remind you to take it easy and slowly return to your regular activities. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head up and down.

“OK, we’re going to remove the tube in your throat, but leave in the IV for now. It will feel a little uncomfortable and your throat may be sore for a couple of days. Today you will be on a liquid diet. And if you are feeling better tomorrow we’ll try solid food. And hopefully, you will be released. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

I nodded my head up and down again.

A nurse came into the room and stood next to my bed, “alright nurse could you please remove the endotracheal tube?”

As she removed the tube I felt a choking sensation and almost started coughing but I calmed myself down and I was finally able to breathe on my own again.

“Can you breathe without difficulty?”

“I said, “yes.” But my voice came out all raspy and my throat hurt.

“Can I see my mother?”

“I’m sorry Miss Reynolds but your mother is no longer in the hospital morgue. She was transported to the local mortuary. The nurse will give you the information and phone number for you to contact if you feel up to calling them. Or if you give the nurse a family or friend’s name we can contact them and ask them to come here and assist you in these details. Do you have someone to call?”

“Yes, my closest friend, Marilyn.”

“Do you have any relatives to call and notify?”

“No, no one. My mother and I were the only family left and now she’s gone. My father died two years ago from cancer. I’m all alone.”

“ I’m sorry to hear that but please, please try to relax. You can give the nurse the name of your friend and contact information. I will come in later before I’m off–duty today and check on you. There‘s a button you can push if you need help to go to the bathroom or you need anything else. Alright?”

I nodded my head up and down. But the tears kept running down my cheeks even though I had put a smile on my face for the doctor. And then he turned and walked slowly out of the room. I wondered how anyone could even work in a hospital and remain sane. All the death, the loss, the fear, responsibilities, and the weight of all the broken hearts.

The next morning I was given a soft boiled egg and limp toast for breakfast and lukewarm tea. I hate soft-boiled eggs but I ate it anyway my stomach was growling. And I know that they wouldn’t let me out of here until I ate something and went to the bathroom.

I called Marilyn and she said that she had been trying to get a hold of me for two days and was going out of mind with worry. I told her about the car accident and she started to cry. Which made me start crying all over again. She told me she would be there at ten AM sharp. And I believed her because she has never let me down ever. She is the sister I never had. I trust her as much as I trusted my dear mother.

The doctor came into my room about twenty minutes after I hung up the phone on Marilyn. “how are you feeling today?”

“Honestly doctor I don’t know how to feel. I never lost my mother before and had a terrible car accident and had a heart attack in the space of two days. If it wasn’t for my friend, Marilyn I don’t know what I would do.”

“But how are you feeling physically? I think you should stay in the hospital for another day. But since you don’t want to do that I’m giving you my office number. And if you have any difficulty at all, any chest pain, call and we will fit you in. I have scheduled you for a check-up at the Cardiologist I recommended in two weeks, don’t miss it. If you have any problem with the medication I prescribed call my office. I’m serious. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Thank you, doctor. I’ll see you soon.”

My friend Marilyn showed up at 10 AM sharp. As soon as she came to my room’s door I felt the muscles in my stomach relax. She came over and put her arms around me and didn’t let go for at least five minutes. We were both crying. “Oh, Marie I’m so, so sorry about your mother. This is so hard to take in I can not even begin to understand how badly you feel. How are you feeling now? Are you having any more chest pains?”

“No, they put me on medication. It has helped a lot. I have the doctor’s number and I have an appointment set up in two weeks. I have to arrange the funeral. It’s just so difficult to believe that I’ll never see my mom again. And that’s when I started crying again. I don’t know where all the tears come from. I thought I would have run out by now.

“Well, I’m going to be with you the whole way. You won’t be doing this alone at all. And I went over to your house and packed a suitcase and your personal things and brought them to my house. Because that is where you will be staying for as long as you need to.”

“Thank you Marilyn I was dreading going to my house and not seeing my mother standing there waiting for me. I just don’t know how I will go on without her.”

“You won’t be alone, I love you like a sister. I hope you know that I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

I looked at Marilyn and said,”you’re the best I don’t know how I was so lucky to meet you and stayed friends ever since first grade.”

Marilyn helped me hobble over to the bathroom and then I said, “oh no, I don’t have any clothes to wear they cut them off when I was in the emergency room.”

“Not to worry Marie, I brought some comfortable pants and a sweatshirt and underwear and socks and a pair of your sneakers. I’m going to help you take the gown off and put on your clothes. I brought your navy blue jacket too.”

I looked a Marilyn and the tears rolled down my face. I wiped them away. And new tears appeared. “I’m sorry Marilyn I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“Don’t apologize anymore, Marie. You have nothing to apologize for. You are the strongest person I know. You took care of your dad for two years when he was dying from cancer. You have been taking care of your mother. You are so much stronger than you realize. You are the bravest person I have ever known.”

“I don’t feel strong at all. It feels like my heart could stop at any minute. I can’t think of a single reason to keep breathing in and out. I can’t imagine living another day without seeing my beautiful mother again. Life without my mom will be an empty and lonely one without her. Oh Marilyn I don’t think I can go on without my mother. It was bad enough when my dad died. And now I’m all alone.”

Now Marilyn was crying too. “No, no, no you are not alone. I am here for you and I always will be. Your mother wouldn’t want you to feel this way. She would want you to continue on with your life and find happiness again. She would never, never want you to give up on life. Promise me that you won’t give up. I need you. Look straight at me and promise that you won’t give up.”

I looked right into Marilyn’s eyes and they were red and swollen and I knew I didn’t want to be the one that made Marilyn feel alone in the world. I knew she needed me as much as I needed her. “I promise I won’t say that again. I will try my best. I will take one day at a time to keep going. I promise I won’t leave you alone. And then we hugged each other like we were never going to let go. And Marilyn helped me get dressed and I splashed some cold water on my face.

An orderly brought a wheelchair to my room and said, “your limousine awaits you, madame. I laughed for the first time. I knew he probably said this to everyone but still it made me feel special in that moment and I said, “why thank you so much.”

And we were on our way. I was leaving my old life behind me and moving into an unknown future. I took a deep breath and sat down in the wheelchair. And then Marilyn said, “come on Marie let’s go home now and you can get some rest, and guess what I’m making you your favorite dinner, french fries, and hot dogs.”

I smiled at her and then the orderly helped me get into my seat and buckled me in. I said, “thank you, kind sir.” And then he tipped his invisible hat and headed back into the hospital.

“OK, Marie relax and buckle up. We’ll be home in a few minutes I’m going to take the scenic route and avoid the highways. So why don’t you take a little nap and I’ll wake you when we get home.”

I no sooner sat down and buckled my seat belt and I must have fallen asleep immediately. Because the next thing I knew I heard Marilyn say,” we’re home, we’re home.”

I opened my eyes and I saw Marilyn’s house. I tried to hold back the tears. I really did. But it felt like I had no control over my body anymore. It did what it wanted. Marilyn just ignored the tears and came over to my side of the car and helped me get out and hobble over to the front door.

She unlocked the door, and let me in, “OK do you want to have lunch now or would you like to go take a nap first?”

“Hot dog and fries first”, I said.

“OK, have a seat at the kitchen table and I’ll go get you things out of the car. Don’t try walking around until I get back in here. You will probably feel a little weak for a while.”

“OK, I won’t. I’ll sit here and wait patiently. Looking forward to a cup of tea too. The hospital tea was never hot like I like it.”

“I’m going to make a whole pot of Earl Grey for you. I went out and bought all your favorite teas, including your favorite Chai.”

“You’re the best, thank you.”

Marie drank the whole pot of tea. “Oh that was so good, there’s nothing like Earl Grey.”

“OK, when you need to use the bathroom let me know, I’m going to make the hot dogs and fries. I know that’s not very healthy. But it’s your favorite.“

Marie swallowed her last sip of tea and Marilyn said, “do you want to take a nap now?”

“I think I better start making the arrangements for my mother now. It all seems like a bad dream. I felt the same way after my father died from cancer two years ago. Like it was a bad dream. I still can’t take it all in but I’m going to have to deal with it now rather than later. We didn’t really have any family left. But my mom had a lot of friends with the woman’s club and her church so I’ll have to get my mom’s phone book to let them know. And I’ll have to get the papers from my dad’s funeral so I can contact the funeral parlor and the cemetery where my dad is buried.”

“OK, after lunch do you want me to go over to your house and get the papers? And you tell me what you want to bring back here and I’ll put it in the back seat and trunk of my car. Anything big, we’ll have to hire a moving truck.”

“OK, but first I have to take care of the funeral and the service and contact my mother’s friends. “

“We can do this together, don’t worry.”

Two days later Marie and Marilyn were in the church waiting for the funeral service for her mother to begin. Marie couldn’t bear to see the coffin. She just couldn’t imagine looking down at her mother and knowing she would never see her sweet and loving face again.

And then Marie heard the priest say, “shall we say our final prayers for the deceased, Kathleen Reynolds. A loving mother and wife and friend to all that knew her. She will be missed by all. Please come up and say goodbye to her. Knowing that you will all be reunited in the afterlife. Marilyn could you please come up first and then everyone else may follow.

Marilyn swallowed hard and using all her remaining strength she got up out of the pew and propelled herself forward to the front of the church in front of the altar where her mother lay in her coffin.

Marilyn stared down at her mother or what remained of her mother’s early remains and made herself lean down and kiss her gently on her cheek. She whispered, “I love you with all of my heart Mom, I couldn’t have asked for a better mother and friend than you have been for me all of my life. I will think of you every day and keep you in my heart always. Until we meet again.”

As everyone filed out of the vestibule they followed one another out to their cars and to the cemetery. Marie and Marilyn’s car was the first to arrive following the hearse. And they drove quietly through the gate that said, THE GARDEN OF TEARS.’

Marilyn said that is such an odd name for a cemetery.”

“Oh, it’s called that because the owner said the tears of all the people who lost loved ones watered the flowers throughout the cemetery.”

Marilyn took her friend, Marie’s hand and held it throughout the funeral and kept it until they returned to Marilyn’s car, and then she gave her a big hug and said, “let’s go friend to whatever the future holds for us.’

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No Good News After Midnight

Gina stumbles into bed late and drunk. She knows she’ll wake up feeling rough, real rough. In the distance, the phone rings. She puts the pillow over her head. The answering machine takes the call after three rings. Five minutes later, it starts ringing again.

Gina grabs the phone. She growls, “Whoever this is, it better be good.”

“Gina, it’s me. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all night. Your mother is in the hospital. She’s really bad, you better get here right away, or you’re never going to see her alive again.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve been dead to her for years.” 

“Gina, come. You need to make this right for yourself if nothing else. There’s a ticket waiting for you at JFK. It’s leaving in two hours. I texted you the information. I’ll meet you at the other end.” The phone disconnects.

Gina is sweating now, her stomach is churning, and she reaches over to her bedside table and grabs the nearest bottle. It’s a warm bottle of Johnny Walker. She throws it back in one swallow, choking. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Mumbles, “Fuck me, fuck me.”

She rolls out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. She turns on the light and winces, covering her eyes. They feel like hard-boiled eggs. She throws cold water on her face and relieves herself. She pictures her mother on her deathbed; it seems impossible that evil can’t die. She feels nothing for her mother. She ceased to exist for her so long ago. it almost seems like another life, someone else’s life. Gina pulls a brush through her hair. It’s a lost cause. She leaves it.

Her bedroom closet is another disaster. She pulls her suitcase out and throws it on the unmade bed. She opens it. It still has clothes in it from some long-forgotten trip. Gina dumps the clothes on the floor. They join all the clothes that met a similar fate. She kicks them out of her way.

Then Gina empties her underwear drawer into the suitcase and whatever clean clothes that remain in her closet. Throws on a pair of jeans and a somewhat clean T-shirt from a long-ago concert. She grabs her boots and plops down on the bed hard, regrets it immediately. Her head starts spinning.

She makes a run to the toilet. Johnny Walker comes rocketing out, just missing the toilet. Gina groans as her stomach lurch. She opens the cabinet for some pills of any kind. But only finds a bottle of aspirin and an old prescription of oxy. Two left. She dry swallows them both. They burn all the way down, but they stay down.

Somehow, she makes it back to her bedroom and pulls on an ancient leather jacket some one-night stand left behind years ago. She takes one look around and spots her purse on the back of the couch. She grabs it and her keys and heads out the door.  Slams the door closed. It bounces back open. She keeps walking.

Gina makes it to the airport in record time. By the time she gets to the long-term parking, her car is running on fumes. She opens the trunk and pulls her suitcase out and slams the trunk closed, and locks the door.

The painkillers are kicking in. She makes it to the check-in counter at the last possible moment and carries her luggage onto the plane. Gina pitches unsteadily down the aisle and finds her seat. She jams her suitcase under the seat.

She lands in the seat relatively unscathed and falls immediately into a drugged sleep. She floats dreamlessly through the flight and wakes up only when she feels the plane landing. There are only a few other passengers on the plane. They all look as if they had a bad day and expect only bad days to come.

Jimmy is the only occupant in the receiving area. He would be hard to miss either way. Jimmy is big, really big. His head is bald and shining. He’s in his motorcycle gear. Gina hadn’t seen him in years, but she would recognize him anywhere, anytime. He’s the only member of her family that ever gave a damn.

“Crap, please tell me that you didn’t come here on your Harley, Jimmy?”

“No, Gina, I didn’t. I borrowed my friend Skit’s beater. Let’s go. We’ll go straight to the hospital.”

As they leave the icy cold air of the airport, Gina follows Jimmy through the revolving door and immediately hits a wall of superheated air. It takes her breath away, and she feels her stomach heave. “Sweet Jesus, we have stepped into the bowels of hell. I hate this fricking place. How can you still be living in this swamp?”

“It’s home, Gina. Let’s go; the car’s in short-term parking.”

As they drive towards the hospital, the sun starts to rise. It is a surreal mixture of pinks and golds. “Gina, your mom doesn’t look too good. She’s been awake on and off for the past couple of days. She has been hanging on for you.”

“Me, why would she give a damn? I haven’t heard from her in years. So, am I supposed to be the prodigal daughter returning home and pretending to give a shit?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Gina doesn’t say anything else for the duration of the trip. She looks at the landscape in the early morning light. Row after row of strip malls and ugly scrub pines line the cracked and bumpy highway. Some things change, but some things remain the same, just like her mother, no doubt, deathbed or not.

They pull into the parking lot, and Jimmy leads the way. He speaks to a weary-looking old man at the reception desk and comes back with two visitors’ cards. Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste.”

They take the elevator to intensive care. Jimmy makes a left out of the elevator. It looks as if he has taken this path many times before. As they enter the dimly lit room, Gina sees what looks like a corpse lying in the first bed. God, this could not be her tough-as-nails mother. Jimmy walks past the corpse-like woman.

He walks over to the second bed. Gina holds her breath, not knowing what to expect. She looks down at the bed, and there she is, her mother or what’s left of her. Her skin is almost translucent. Her hair thinly covers her scalp. Her eyelids flutter open. At first, she seems to stare blindly, then her eyes focus, and she whispers, “Gina?” Her voice gains strength. “Well, it’s about damn time, girl.” The fire is still in her eyes.

Gina looks straight into her eyes. “Yes, mother, it’s about damn time you ask to see me. You know it’s been over ten years. I can’t say it’s good seeing you. You look like hell.”

“Well, girl, you’re not looking too good yourself. You look like you been rode hard and put down wet.”

“Yeah, you always had a way with words, mother.”

“OK, girls, play nice. I’m going to go get a coffee. I’ll be back in a few.” He turns and walks out of the room without looking back.

Gina pulls up a chair next to her mother’s bedside. She moves from side to side in the chair and tries to find some comfortable way to sit. There isn’t any. “Fucking hospitals, I hate them.”

“Nice mouth you got on ya, Gina.”

“Yeah, who do you think I got it from? So why am I here? Why now?”

“Why now? If not now, when Gina?”

Gina stares back at her mother, still feeling a little buzz from the oxy and a little sick from the booze. She can’t imagine what she’s supposed to do or say in this situation. She decides to wait. Her mother will eventually tell her what she wants. She waits. There was always a price to pay with her mother.

“Gina, here’s the thing, the docs have told me I don’t have long. I want you to stay until I’m gone. Then I want you to take care of the funeral arrangements, the house, and all the other shit that needs to be done. I have it all written down. It’s in my bedroom closet in a shoebox marked Tony.”

“So, I haven’t heard word one from you in ten years, and you want me to hang around here and watch you die. For all you know, I was dead. Then you want me to take care of all the shit you left behind. Why didn’t you ask Jimmy to take care of it like always? Why me, Mom?”

“I knew where you were and what you been up to. How do you think Jimmy knew how to contact you? I’m asking you because you are my only daughter. And I wanted the chance to make things right between us before I died; that’s it.”

“That’s it, that’s it? What are you going to say to me that would ever make things right between us? Growing up in our house was like growing up in a war zone. You and Dad were always fighting. You were drunk half of the time, not giving a shit about me. How are you going to make that right? How?”

“Look, Gina, I know I wasn’t a great mother. I wasn’t the mother you deserved, but I was the mother you got. I did what I did. I can’t change that. But I always loved you. I want you to forgive me, for yourself, not me. I know I don’t deserve it.

Maybe then you can try not to make the same mistakes as me. Stop drinking and partying, get a regular life, find somebody who loves you, and be happy.”

“Be happy, yeah, right. I wouldn’t know happiness if it came up and bit me on the ass. I’ll stay here and take care of your business. Then I’m out of here. Thank god, here comes Jimmy.”

As Jimmy walks into the room, he walks past the living corpse. And he takes a look at Gina and his sister, Betty. He hands Gina a hot coffee. Be careful; it’s hot as hell and tastes like mud. But it’ll do the job.”

He pulls up a chair on the other side of the bed. He looks down at his sister. She is out of it. Her breath is shallow. He looks at Gina. Her mouth is pursed. She looks beat. They wait.

Three hours later, Gina wakes to an alarm and looks at her mother. Her skin is damp and gray. Her mouth is slack. People come rushing into the room. They push them out of the way and tell them to wait outside. They wait. There is nothing left to say.

The nurses and the doctor come out of the room. Jimmy and Gina look at his face. It has no expression. He walks up to them and says, “sorry, she’s gone. There was nothing we could do for her.” And he walks away on his way to deliver bad news to somebody else’s family, no doubt.” Gina, do you want to go in and say goodbye to your mother?”

“No, I said all I’m going to say to her in this life. Let’s go. I need to get some real sleep and then get a shower. I’m not staying long, and I will take care of her business, then I’m out of here.”

Jimmy drives them over to his sister’s house in silence. It’s been a long day that followed other long days. “Here we are. Here’s the key. Do you need some money? I don’t know if there is any food in the house?” He hands her some crumbled-up bills, leans past her, and opens the car door. He pops the trunk. And he says,” I’ll call you later today or tomorrow.”

Gina gets out of the car and walks to the back of the car, and pulls out her bag. Slams the trunk closed a little harder than was necessary.

She walks away and waves goodbye to him while driving out of sight. She makes her way up the sidewalk, which is strewn with yellowed newspapers and trash. The grass is overgrown and adorned with broken beer bottles and unidentifiable garbage. It’s been there so long that whatever odor it once had no longer remains. “Home sweet home.” Gina jams the key home into the lock, and it turns reluctantly.

The door swings in, and so does Gina. “God damn, it looks worse inside than out.” Gina glances around at the chaos and walks slowly up the stairway to her old bedroom. The carpet on the stairs is stained and worn through in spots. It’s the same carpet that was there throughout her childhood. Puke green looks like it hasn’t seen a vacuum since she left ten years ago. As she is walking down the hall towards her bedroom, she thinks, hell no, I don’t want to live like this, end up like her. Shit, shit, shit.

Her bedroom is covered in dust and filled with boxes of god knows what. She kicks them out the door and down the steps. Stuff falls out of the boxes and tumbles down the steps. Gina steps over to the bed and pushes off all the crap that is on it. She strips the bed and walks out to the hall closet, and finds some sheets that look like they might fit the bed. The sheet design screams the 1980s, with gaudy colors and an insane mixture of patterns. She makes up the bed and falls into it without even bothering to take off her clothes.

When she wakes up, the burning sun is streaming through the window. The mini-blinds are at half-mast on one side. The other side has long ago ceased to function. Gina is covered in sweat because she forgot to turn on the air conditioning last night. And the room is steaming and stinking.

She throws her legs over the side of the bed, and that’s when her head starts pounding, and her stomach starts roiling. She makes her way carefully to the bathroom. “Shit, what a fucking hole this place is.” She makes her way back into the hallway and, by some miracle, finds a clean towel.

Back in the bathroom, she looks in the medicine cabinet and finds an ancient bottle of aspirin and throws a handful in her mouth, and chews them. She turns on the spigot, and the water runs brown, then yellow. When it finally runs clear, she puts her mouth under the stream and gulps down enough to get the bitter taste out of her mouth.

She takes a shower in the tub after running the water for fifteen minutes to rinse out all the crap that was on the bottom. It’s still stained. Gina hopes she won’t get a  fatal disease from it. As she stands in the ice-cold stream of water, she thinks about her mother. And this house and all the memories that are attached to it. She thinks about the box and the nightmares it might release into her already fucked up life.

After getting out of the shower, Gina wipes the fog from the mirror and looks at the face reflected there. For a startling moment, she sees her mother’s worn and broken face looking back at her. She finds a comb on the top of the toilet and pulls it through her short, spiky hair.

She doesn’t know if she has the courage to get through the next few days. She tries to summon strength from the core of her being. She reminds herself that she’s gotten through worse shit, and she can handle this crap too. Hell, this is nothing compared to what she’s endured for the last ten years. Why this is just a walk in the park?

She hears the phone ringing from the kitchen. She throws on some clothes and runs down the steps. It’s Jimmy. He left a message saying he would pick her up in two hours to go to the undertaker’s office.

Gina goes into the kitchen and looks into the frig, a couple of beer bottles, a jar of mustard, and a couple of bread crusts. She’s tempted to drink the beers but doesn’t. She looks in the cabinet and finds a half-empty jar of peanut butter, the store-brand kind. She slaps some on the bread and swallows it. Her stomach protests, but she keeps it down.

Gina goes upstairs to brush her teeth and then remembers she didn’t bring her toothbrush. She finds a tube of toothpaste and cleans her teeth with her finger. Well, the good times keep coming. She let out a harsh laugh and spit.

Exactly two hours later, Jimmy pulls into the driveway. He’s dressed in a short-sleeved dress shirt and chinos. He knocks on the front door and sticks his head in the door, and calls out, “Gina, it’s me, Jimmy.”

Gina comes through the living room to the front door, “come in, Jimmy.”

“Hey, it looks different in here. What happened?”

“What happened I just spent the last two hours throwing out all the trash down here and trying to clean it up as much as possible. This house was an absolute pigsty. When was the last time my mother cleaned this place up, the millennium?”

“Your mother was never much for housework. She spent most of her time throwing back beers and playing cards with her cronies.”

“They played here. Wow, that’s hard to believe.”

“No, they played at her friend Ginny’s house every Tuesday and Friday, then they hit the bars and stayed until closing time.”

“Wow, she enjoyed her golden years, didn’t she? You know, there’s no way I’m going to end up like this. Living in your own filth in a purple haze. There has to be something better than that.”

“Gina, your life is whatever you make of it. You have to stop blaming your mother for how your life has turned out. You have been calling all the shots for the past ten years, not her. Maybe you should decide what you want out of life and then find ways to get there.”

“Well, haven’t you turned out to be quite a preacher? I think you’ve been known to keep a few bars open late yourself.”

“Gina, I’ve been clean for eight years. You can clean up your act too. You don’t have to end up like your mom.”

After meeting with the funeral director Jimmy and Gina went to Al Joe’s for lunch. A waitress who looks as if she’s working here all her life asks,” Do you need to see a menu?”

“No, I’ll have a Poor Boy with all the fixings and ginger ale.”

“Yeah, I’ll have the same, thanks. Could I have a coffee, black? ”

After eating, Jimmy says, “did your mother ask you to do anything special for her funeral?”

“She told me there was a box in her bedroom closet with instructions, but I haven’t got the nerve up to go in there yet. I’ll do it tonight; then I’ll let you know.”

“Ok, if you’re finished, I’m ready to go.”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s hit the road. Jimmy, I want to thank you for always being there for me when I needed somebody.”

“Hey, we may be a dysfunctional family, but we’re still family. That’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that, Jimmy. You’re the only person that ever gave a good goddamn about me.” Jimmy hugs her as they stand up to leave. They head out the door. The heat hits them in full force as they leave the air-conditioned restaurant. “God, I just can’t believe anyone would choose to live in this little bit of hell.”

When Gina gets back to her mother’s house, she refuses to think of it as her home. She pulls whatever reserves she has left within her to go up to her mother’s bedroom.

She opens the bedroom door with some difficulty. She has to pull it with both hands on the doorknob. When the door finally opens, she holds her breath against the smell of sickness, old age, stale cigarettes, and beer. She looks at the room, and aside from ten years of accumulated grime, it’s pretty much the same as when she was a kid. Cheap furniture, an overstuffed chair with Chintz cabbage rose print and a TV with rabbit ears circa 1970 something. “God damn.”

Gina walks over to the bedroom closet and looks inside, and sees clothes from every decade hanging limply on wire hangers. The newest looks to be from the late 1990s. She grabs the footstool and steps up on it and roots around the top shelf, and finally grabs a shoebox labeled Tony from Neiman Marcus in NYC.

“Well, shit, who would have thought she ever owned anything that didn’t come off the clearance shelf of Walmart.” Gina carries the box over to the old chair and sits down. She hesitates before she opens it. Fearing at the last moment what might be in the note from her mother.

In the box, there is delicate tissue paper sprinkled with small yellow roses. Underneath the paper is a pair of white satin shoes with kitten heels, lined with pale pink silk, size six. Outlining the edge are small cutouts of hearts and ribbons. There is a pink bow on the back of the shoes. They’re the most beautiful shoes that Gina has ever seen. Gina tries to imagine her mother ever wearing anything so fine. She can’t. And she picks up the shoe and smells it. There is a faint smell of honeysuckles that still lingers.

Inside one of the shoes is a small photo. The picture is of a young girl, perhaps sixteen years old, wearing an old fashion prom dress. The dress is fitted to her small waist and flares out into a tea-length skirt. Her light brown hair is pulled up into a chignon with bangs framing her heart-shaped face. She looks so young. The smile on her face reflects the happiness she must have been feeling at the moment this photo was taken. The effect of that smile is so mesmerizing that Gina almost feels pulled into that frozen moment. She turns over the photograph, and in a delicate hand is written Elizabeth’s senior prom 1962.

“Elizabeth, who?” And then Gina realizes that this must be her mother on the night of her senior prom. Gina does not remember a smile that wide and radiant ever gracing her mother’s face in her life. She wonders what happened in the years between the time this picture was taken and the time she was born. Gina realizes she has never really thought about her mother as ever being more than just her mother. That she, too, must have been a young person with hopes and dreams of her own. That somewhere, it all went wrong for her.

Gina feels a tear roll down her cheek and lets it fall. She cries for her mother’s lost dreams and wasted life. She cries for the mother whose love always seemed so elusive. She cries for all the lost years. Hopes that her mother had more than this brief moment of happiness in her life. She is about to put the shoes back into the box when Gina glimpses a note among the tissue paper. Gina unfolds the note it reads.

 Dear Gina,

 I’m leaving these shoes for you as a reminder that life is fleeting, and you have to hold onto those happy moments. No one can give or make you happy. Only you have the power to bring happiness and love into your life. Only you can imagine your dreams and make them happen. Happiness is a gift that you give to yourself. I’m leaving you this house and my life insurance policy. These small gifts won’t make you happy, but I hope they can give you a new start. I know you don’t believe it, but I always loved you very much and wished only the best for you. Love. Mother

Gina folds the note and places it inside the box with the shoes, and puts the lid on. She thinks that this might be one of the happiest and saddest moments of her life.

A week after the funeral, Gina puts up For Sale sign outside the house and settles all the bills. Jimmy drives her to the airport and gives her a big hug as she boards the airplane. “Gina, please don’t be a stranger. Give your old uncle a call once in a while.”

“I will, Jimmy, I love you, and I’ll be in touch.”