This Is the End.

 

Peggy paused for a moment to ponder what Mary could be crying about. “I bet this is about that boyfriend of hers. I’ll take care of it,” she said while starting to boil a pot of water on the stove.

 

A few minutes later, Peggy poked her head through Mary’s bedroom door before opening it to reveal a chocolate bar in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Setting the chocolate down on the nightstand, she perched herself at the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back.

 

“Here, Mary, I brought you some tea.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.” Mary sat up. “I just don’t get it. I thought we were such a good match. How could he do this?” Her eyes welled with tears.

 

“Shhhh.” Peggy rubbed her hand in large circles on Mary’s back. “I know. I know you did. But Honey, he’s not the one. You’ve started thinking that recently. I know that. Your sister knows that… We’ve all known that for a little while, right?”

 

“I guess so… but – but there are just so many great things about him. He’s smart and funny and cute and loves baseball and he really cared about us for a while.”

 

“A while isn’t enough, Mary. Those things are great but they aren’t enough for you. You need someone who cares for more than a while, you need someone who is nice and respects you. You know that.”

“I guess so. It just hurts so much, Mom.”

 

“I know it hurts, Honey, but you’ll be alright.”

 

++++++++

 

Mary held her baby upright on the changing table in the nursery. She was still adjusting to being a new mom to her first child, Sarah; the late night feedings, crying, and diapers on the hour were a lot to handle, so Peggy came over to help and give Mary some time to sleep. Mary cooed at Sarah as Peggy watched over nervously.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mary. I must have forgot to turn the sink off when I went to put the baby down after the bath. When I saw the water overflowing I did my best to clean it up but –“

 

“Mom, don’t worry about it. Really, it’s no big deal.”

 

“Is Mark upset?”
 

“No, Mom. He understands.” She laid the baby down on the table and hugged her mom. “It’s fine, Mom. We cleaned it up, it’ll be alright.”

 

++++++++

 

“I think she’s depressed,” Mary whispered to her sister, Kathy.

 

“I’ve never seen her this way before. She looks so tired and—“

 

“She misses Dad.”

 

“Yeah… Yeah she does,” Kathy, looking exhausted, held her head up with her hands. “Mary, I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I don’t like her being alone all the time. I stop by before and after work as much as I can but it’s not enough. She got that nasty bruise on her leg while trying to make dinner for herself…” Mary trailed off as her voice started cracking.

 

“We can’t put her somewhere that will just make it worse,” Kathy replied tersely.

 

“I know!” Mary snapped back. “I’m just saying we have to do something.”

 

“I know.” She put an arm around Mary’s shoulder. “I know. We’ll figure it out. It’ll be alright.”

 

++++++++

 

“Do you want something to eat, Mom? You hungry?” Mary asked. She brought Sarah to Peggy’s nursing home on a rainy Sunday in March. She knew Peggy was always cheered up when her grandkids came to visit.

 

“Uh… Uh… Um…” stammered Peggy.

 

Her glassy eyes darted around the room and at Mary’s face. Her mind searched for the few words to answer this simple yet necessary question. Her body could no longer replicate the sharpness of her mind – each movement, each syllable and half-syllable was uttered at a fraction of the speed she had prior to her stroke. Peggy waved her hand slowly towards the mini-fridge in the corner of the room.

 

“Um…”

 

Wrinkles charted her face like a topographical map. Her eyes, formerly bright and expressive, were sunken deep into her face. Loose skin sagged beneath them. Her skin was pale and reminiscent of issue paper. Peggy, who once visited the beauty parlor bi-weekly to dye her hair brown, had thin, wispy, grey hair atop her head, which was patted down in the back by the pillows that perpetually supported her now. A thin nightgown covered her diminished frame. Mary brought her a sweater to keep the chill of the nursing home at bay. ‘Fragile’ was the word to describe her current state. Delicate. Breakable. 

 

“Uh…”

 

She then looked at Sarah and her eyes lingered for a few seconds before tears welled at the corners. She dropped her head low and gazed down at her idle right hand, embarrassed and defeated.

 

“Hey, mom, it’s ok.”

 

Mary sat down next to her at the edge of the bed and put her arm around Peggy, rubbing large circles on her back. “We can understand you. Shhh – it’s alright. You’re alright. You’re fine.” Peggy leaned her head into the crook of Mary’s neck.

 

Sarah couldn’t help but notice these were the same motions Mary used to comfort her when she was sick or upset. But this time, Mary’s face was pained. Her complexion, too, had become paler.

 

Peggy sat back up and tried again. “S-… S-… Um… Sauce? A-.. Ah-… Uh… S-.. Sauce?”

 

“Applesauce?”

 

Peggy shook her head affirmatively. Mary rose from the metal bed and laid her mother gently back into the pillows. She crossed the room and opened the tiny fridge to reveal a host of soft, easily digestible foods that the doctor had approved and day-old containers of takeout food left behind by my aunt. She peeled back the foil cover of the applesauce and took a spoon back to the bed.

 

“Here you go, mom.”

 

Mary guided a half spoonful into her mother’s waiting mouth. A small amount fell onto her chin; Mary wiped it away with the edge of spoon the same way mothers do for infants. In between each bite, Peggy looked up shyly at Mary, who returned an energetic smile.

 

“Th-… Th-… Uh…” Peggy glances at her daughter.

 

Stroking her back Mary whispers, “it’s ok. I can hear you.”

 

“Um… Th-… Th-an-cu.” She says triumphantly while smiling with relief. Mary leans down, kisses her on the forehead, and rubs her back in that familiar circular pattern.

 

“Good job, mom. You’ve already come a long way.”

 

++++++++

 

Mary stroked her mother’s cheek softly. In the casket she was just a shell of herself; Sarah knew she would be after seeing her grandfather, Mike, in a coffin. For that reason she didn’t stand within ten feet of the open casket the entire funeral. She didn’t want to remember Peggy that way. She wanted to remember Peggy laughing in her chair at home. She wanted to remember eating cold cuts together on summer days underneath the tree in Peggy’s backyard. Her grandmother cuddling up to her in bed when she spent the night at Peggy’s house. Her grandmother asking her to come have girls’ days more often. Smiling when she snuck Sarah $5 and telling her not to tell her mother. Sending her home with pockets full of hard candies. Sarah didn’t want to remember her lying in the casket.

 

Mary, on the other hand, laid her hand on her mother for the last time. A tear rolled down her cheek and onto my Peggy’s hand, which she wiped away with a tissue. Peggy was gone, but her body was still there for a few more moments.

 

++++++++

 

Once the casket is closed, the person inside is forever confined to the memories of those who were closest to him or her. Loved ones maintain the grave, cut the grass, and stop the tombstone from submerging into the ground. A generation later, grass begins to overgrow the tombstone. Weather wears down the physical demarcation of the deceased one’s final presence. Another generation later those who knew the deceased one are gone; with those last connections so too go the memories of the deceased’s life.

 

Rain erodes the name on the stone.

 

“Loving Wife, Mother, Grandmother

June 10, 1923 – May 9, 2008”

 

Lost to wind, snow, and dirt.

 

The stone sinks into the earth.