“I’ll be here until seven, so just press the alarm if you need me,” says Liv, the hospice nurse that has been assigned to my mom, giving me a soft smile.
“Thank you, Liv.” I give her hand a squeeze before she walks out of the room.
“I know she wanted to be home, but this will be much easier for you, and for her,” Rhonda says as I make my way to the side of the bed.
“I think it’s better this way. I don’t think I could stay there after knowing she passed away in the house,” I say, feeling guilty.
“That’s understandable, Lea, and you have a right to your feelings,” she says quietly, but I still feel guilty about it, about not giving her everything she wanted.
“Thank you for getting everything put in place with the hospital.” Since Mom was supposed to be home, they had to move around a few of the patients at the hospital so she could have her own room while she is here.
“You know I would do anything for you guys.”
“I know,” I agree, taking a seat on the bed near Mom’s hip. “Deep down, I wonder if she knew somehow that this was coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“Right before she went to lie down, she had taken my cheeks in her hands and leaned in to kiss my forehead, whispering that she loved me, before walking out of the living room and going to bed.” I wish I would have known it was the last time I would hear her voice or be able to hug her.
“She may have had a feeling,” Rhonda says, making me feel less crazy.
“I miss her already, and she’s still here,” I whisper, feeling tears slide down my cheeks.
“You should still talk to her. Some studies say that even though the person’s unconscious, they still hear what’s going on around them.”
“She hasn’t eaten.”
“She’s comfortable,” she assures me quietly.
“She hasn’t eaten or had any water. How long can she live like this?” I whimper as reality sets in. This is it.
“No one knows for sure,” she says, coming to sit in the chair next to the bed.
Four days. Four days is how long it took for my mom to take her last breath. Four days of recounting all the stories that I could remember about her and dad, about us as a family. About anything I could think of. I didn’t know if she heard me, but I couldn’t stop the stories, or the tears, as I listened to her breathe while memorizing the sound, the timing, and the flow until she had taken a breath and silence filled the room. I waited for a long time to see if she would take another, but none came. I don’t know how long I laid there looking at the ceiling before people came into the room, as the sound of alarms were going off.
I didn’t cry. I couldn’t even move. It felt like it was all a dream, like none of it was real. I lay there looking up at the ceiling, fighting to breathe, and then Austin’s arms wrapped around me and carried me away. I buried my face in his neck, the smell of his skin calming something deep inside me as he sat with me in his lap, holding me close, talking softly until I was able to breathe again.
*
“What do you want me to do with these cookies that Mr. and Mrs. Grates dropped off?” Ben asks, stepping into the kitchen, where I’m washing dishes.
“Just set them there with all the other stuff,” I mutter, looking at the table that is covered in food, cookies, and cakes.
“You’re never going to be able to eat all of this,” he tells me—something I already know. Since the day I got back to the house, people have been dropping off food left and right. I had no idea my mom even knew so many people, and I wondered if they knew it was only me here now.
“You know she never talked about Cordova,” I say quietly, looking down into the soapy water.
“Pardon?” Ben asks, moving stuff around on the table so he can set the plate down.
“She never talked about here. At first, when I left home, I would ask how people were, and she would give me small updates about who was doing what, but then those details dwindled down to nothing. After a while, the only time she would talk about the people here is when she’d slip up and mention something about someone.”
“Really?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t, and I was too afraid to bring it up, because I thought there was something big she didn’t want to share, like she had a boyfriend or something.” Or like Austin was married with kids, I think.
“Maybe she didn’t want you to miss it here.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I agree, putting the dishes I just washed away, while whispering, “I wish I would have come back years ago, instead of being so afraid to face this place and the people here. I wish a lot of things.” I feel my throat close up, then feel Ben at my side and his arm wraps around my shoulders.