EVERYONE LEAVES

            The joy from being here in the house sitting next to my
bookcase in Grandma’s rocking chair counterbalances that
sadness and void I feel below my heart, recessed and
cavelike behind my stomach. Nausea echoes and yawns its
way out.
            Last night, Grandma Nichols died. I sat at the foot of
her hospital bed. Aunt Sue sat at the right and Mom the
left. Each held a hand.
            On the shelf behind her were various machines: four
or five IVs, standing like squashed sentinels; a monitor
that clicked and beeped and whirred every half hour as it
spit out a paper tape record of Grandma’s vital signs;
below and to the right a pump gurgled and bubbled. A
clear plastic tube appeared from her side and ran along to
a bag possessing various nozzles. This was her new
intestine. Directly after the heart attack there was great
concern over nothing passing through it. The doctor had
previously speculated that her kidneys had shut down, but
to his surprise, they revived and were working.
            When I walked into her room, the back half of the
bed was tilted up and her head leaned to the left toward
Mom. Her face was yellowed and ashen. The skin clung
to the bones of her skull and where it didn’t looked
puffed out. Her arms were blackened from all the
prodding needles. Her lips were white. Her mouth
opened every couple of seconds to gasp for breath and it
looked as if she were reacting to a knife being repeatedly
twisted inside her.
            To us, she appeared unconscious. Though we all felt
she could hear us and knew we were there. As her pulse
slackened, Sue reported she could feel her hand getting
colder.
            Sue started humming Amazing Grace. Then Mom joined
in. I only made it through the first verse and had to stop.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.  Never had that song
sounded so beautiful as now.
            Two sisters, who had rarely spoken to one another
since their Father died six years before, singing their
Mother on her way.
            I sat at the end of the bed waving good-bye like a
child.

August, 1991