her hand gently again, rubbing it ever so softly between my hands. “Mom, it’s me, Marianne. Your Mari. Remember, Mama? I’m here now.” She still doesn’t move. Her eyelids are motionless. She doesn’t give me a sign. I begin to pray again out of sheer desperation, willing and wishing for any movement.
But there is nothing.
I have so many questions, but I don’t want to ask them yet, I don’t want the nurse to say anything in case my mom hears. Thankfully, she leaves the room so that it’s just me and my mom.
I sit by her side all night, and I must have nodded off, because at some point, my mom’s room is full of people. I’d fallen asleep. I jump up, but I can’t see her because there’s a wall of three, maybe four medical staff in front of me, blocking my view.
“What’s going on?” I cry.
They’re working on my mom. There is noise and confusion, machines beeping. Ominous sounds of desperate people. A flurry of thoughts blasts at me like a tiny tornado and my hopes spiral to their death. I feel as if I am going to faint and everything inside me threatens to shoot up through my throat.
Chapter 49
MARI
She’s gone
My mom went peacefully they tell me, but to me it seemed like anything but peaceful. They worked on her and tried to revive her. It was noisy and a hive of commotion. She had a heart attack in the end and they did all they could, but they couldn’t save her.
Standing on the edge, watching, praying, wishing, it didn’t help one bit. My mom passed anyway, and it seemed anything but peaceful to me.
I’m all cried out now. I begged for them to leave me with her, and they did. I clung to her warm hands for as long as I could. I sobbed my heart out, falling into pieces that will never be whole again. I lost my dearest, oldest friend, and I feel so empty that the slightest breeze could pick me up, carry me away and set me someplace else and I wouldn’t care. I don’t belong anywhere now.
As I leave the hospital, the birds are singing. I’ve never hated the sound of birdsong as much as I do now. What right do these creatures have to sing when I’ve just lost my mom, the only person who really cared about me? She was the only person who loved me unconditionally, no matter what. Her love was unparalleled; unlike the type of love I’ve had from others.
I return to Jamie’s place, and on the way I call and give him the news. I also tell him that I have run out of cab fare money and worry that I won’t have enough. It’s such a trivial little thing to worry about, in the grand scheme of things, I remember thinking this even as I said it to him.
Looking back, I don’t understand how I had the presence of mind to call Jamie and tell him that my mother had passed, let alone tell him about the cab fare.
But that’s the thing about life. It still goes on, and even though my mom has passed, the rest of the world carries on as normal.
I am numb during the entire cab ride. Each second I get further and further away from the place where my mom rests makes me feel as if I’m deserting her even though she left me first. I will never see her smile again, or have her gray ringed eyes on me. I’ll never be able to put my arms around her frail body, and I’ll never go searching for the scent of lavender again.
I wish I’d spent more time with her. I wish I’d gone to see her every weekend. I wish I hadn’t been scared of her lapsing in and out of forgetfulness. I would give anything to have my mom alive, even if she didn’t know who I was.
As soon as the cab parks outside Jamie’s place, he comes running out and settles the fare. He’s been waiting for me, and looks as if he hasn’t slept a wink. He must be exhausted. I’m feeling the exhaustion now, as it sinks into my pores and deadweights me.
I’ve been trying to be brave, trying to hold it together, but on seeing Jamie, the strength drains out of my body. He opens his mouth to say something, but then holds back, his face softens and he holds out his arms