o 7d2acff2003a9b7d by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

everywhere, and we sort of nibble on it from time to time all day long. Not the most healthy way to eat, but at least we’re eating.)
    So Dad and Aunt Morgan and I sat in the kitchen and didn’t say anything. This time, though, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. I know Dad and Aunt Morgan feel just the way I do. Drained.
    I was sitting in the kitchen thinking about Rebecca in Mom’s room, and out of nowhere I found myself saying, “I wonder how you say good-bye to someone forever.”
    Dad and Aunt Morgan looked startled for a moment, then thoughtful. And then their eyes filled with tears.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    “No. That’s okay.” Aunt Morgan reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “I think we’ve all been wondering that.”
    I nodded. “I mean, this isn’t like saying good-bye to someone at the airport. Someone you know you’ll see again in two weeks. Or even in two years. This is …”
    “Forever,” Dad finished for me.
    “You know,” Aunt Morgan said kindly, “I’m not sure we can plan or prepare for something like that. I think, when the time comes, the right words will come as well. They’ll just come.” She paused. “And by ‘right’ I don’t mean there are right or wrong words. I mean that you’ll find the way to say what you want to say to your mom. I truly believe that.”
    I wanted to believe that too. I didn’t like the idea of planning a speech for Mom. I knew it would come out sounding stiff and formal. I relaxed a little.
    1:50 P.M.
    Rebecca left a few minutes ago. She was crying. I didn’t know what to say to her. Luckily, Dad walked outside with her. Now I feel all uncomfortable. This is what I’m thinking: After Mom dies everyone is going to be upset. Upset people are going to drop by the house. Upset people are going to phone us. And upset people are going to be at the funeral. How am I going to deal with them?
    1:54 P.M.
    I guess I AM the most self-centered, selfish person on the entire planet. Can I think of no one but myself?
    2:10 P.M.
    I saw with Mom again for awhile [sic]. She’s just sort of … drifting.
    2:35 P.M.
    I’ve set myself up in Mom’s room. I dragged an armchair in here. I jammed it between the doorway and the foot of the bed. Dad said it was okay. I know he meant it was okay because it won’t be for very long, but he didn’t say that. Anyway, I moved a table next to the chair and put some pens and a cup of tea on it. I can leave my journal there when I need to put it down. I think I’ll just stay here for awhile [sic].
    Dad and Aunt Morgan are on the room too. The nurse is just outside.
    The phone is being answered by Carol. The doorbell rang not long after Rebecca left, and there was Carol. She had left work early and she turned up here, saying she was going to do for us whatever needed doing. She didn’t ask us if we wanted her to come over. She just arrived, ready to help.
    Carol is wonderful.
    Very quietly she took over the lists we’d been keeping. And now she’s in the kitchen,
    straightening up the mess we let pile up since yesterday — the food people keep bringing by. I think Carol is going to reorganize the refrigerator.
    Mom is sleeping now. She looks kind of peaceful.
    2:49 P.M.
    It’s funny. Now I’m sleepy myself. I think I’ll take a little nap here in the chair.
    3:39 P.M.
    Well. I did have a nap. What a good sleep. It was very deep. Not too long, but I feel so much better.
    Carol just whispered to me that Dawn is going to come over in a few minutes.
    4:45 P.M.
    It was awful. Horrible. I have never seen Dawn cry in quite the way she was crying after she came out of Mom’s room.
    Dawn talked to Mom for about ten minutes, I guess. Carol stayed busy in the kitchen, and Dad and Aunt Morgan and I sat in the living room. When Dawn came out of Mom’s room she went to the kitchen and I could hear her sobbing with Carol. I didn’t know whether to go into the kitchen or what. Aunt Morgan must have realized what I