Remembering Life

Today was the day. The day the old woman would remember for the rest of her days on earth. With short unsteady shuffles, she took the arm of her granddaughter, who gently guided her up the icy snowy steps of the funeral home. A man dressed in black opened the old parlor door and took their coats. The woman paused to take in the moment, the people, and the emotions before moving forward. 

    “Take your time, grandma.” The granddaughter spoke softly.

     The grandmother's eyes glistened as she moved forward. 

    Mourners looked up from where they were and fell silent. The woman crossed the creaky floors towards the casket as the granddaughter held her hand tightly. The grandmother took a deep breath and let out a soft anguishing moan. Tears flooded her vision. 

     A middle aged man to her right handed her a clean tissue, “Here you go, mom.” 

     She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. 

     They arrived at a dark wooden casket with gold handles. The grandmother peeked inside, letting out a much louder wail. “My baby. My sweet baby girl.” She sobbed. The granddaughter took her into her arms and together they cried. 

     “I still can't believe Mom is gone.” The granddaughter replied through short gasping breaths. 

     Inside the casket lay the body of a woman with fair skin and short dark hair. The old woman's daughter had passed away from complications of diabetes. She had been sick for sometime. The family knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened, though they didn't think it would happen so soon. They thought they had more time with her. 

     The granddaughter and grandmother broke the embrace after what seemed like an eternity. The mother bent forward and kissed her daughter in the forehead. Her daughter's skin may have appeared warm and rosy like the last time she saw her, but upon her lips her skin may have well been made of ice. This broke the mother. “She's so cold!” she cried out.

     The granddaughter embraced the grandmother once more before guiding her away from the corpse of her daughter. 

     The mourners, with sorrow in their hearts, stared at the old woman. Some hugged her, others offered a handshake or a pat on the shoulder. 

     The granddaughter guided her onto a nearby couch and sat next to her. 

     “I remember…” started the grandmother with tearful eyes. “The day your mother was born. She was my first of many.”

     The granddaughter stayed silent and listened. Mourners gathered around the women and listened in. 

     “It was a warm October day in 1960. I was alone with only the midwife at my side. I had gone into labor. I was only 19 at the time and unwed. I was frightened. I had never felt such pain in my life, that is until now. The midwife assured me the pain was normal and would only get worse as delivery neared. She was right. Pain management wasn't very advanced yet, so I pushed on through. After several hours the midwife began shouting to bear down, after a few contractions, I soon realized she meant to push. After a few pushes my darling girl was born.” 

     The old woman paused again. Remembering the day as if it was yesterday. With a quivering voice she continued. “They threw the baby on my chest and we locked eyes for the first time. The baby let out the most pitiful, but the most beautiful cry I had ever heard. I knew at that moment I would do whatever it took to protect her. She was the most precious thing in my world. My heart melted when she curled her little fingers around one of mine.” The woman looked down at her wrinkled hands. 

     The mourners wiped tears from their eyes. 

     “I couldn't protect her from death.” Her shoulders heaved with every sob. 

     A young woman stepped forward, “I remember when I was a child, I would stay the night with her. We would eat all our favorite snacks and she would scoop me up on her arms, turn on Whitney Houston and dance for hours with me.” The woman wiped tears from her face. “It's my favorite memory that I cherish to this day.” 

     Next a man spoke up, “I remember when we got caught drinking natty lights in the attic by mom. Boy were you madder than a hornet in a beehive.” 

     The old woman's eyes twinkled in the lights, “You two were never up to any good.” 

     “I remember when we went on vacation in Florida. We were all drinking in the pool and she tried to sit on top of a floaty and tipped head over heels in the water.” Reminisced another. 

     The crowd chuckled light-heartedly.

     They all took turns sharing stories about the woman's life. Most stories featured her comedic nature, her gentle heart and how much she loved her family. Soon the old woman's heart felt lighter. Knowing how much her daughter was loved in life and in death. 

     She took a deep breath, the first one since she got the wake up call. She stood up and the crowd parted ways. She made her way up to the casket one more time for the last time. She gazed upon her daughter like it was the first time. Trying to memorize every detail. Every hair, every line, wrinkle, and freckle. She ran her fingers through her hair. “This isn't how you were supposed to go. I was supposed to go before you. I love you sweet girl.” She kissed her daughter for the final time and backed away. 

     The woman's three brothers and three grandsons gathered around the casket, slowly closed it, and carried it off. 

     Outside the snow glittered brightly in the moonlight. Somewhere a church bell rang out into the night. The old woman felt a sense of emptiness leaving her daughter behind. She wondered how she was able to go on after losing a child after 65 years. Then she saw her answer. 

     In front of the funeral home her great granddaughters played joyfully in the snow, the youngest spinning in circles trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. That's how she was able to go on living. Her great grandchildren, full of life and wonderment. She knelt down in the snow and held out her arms. A little girl no older than two ran on wobbly legs. 

     “Maw-maw!” She giggled, embracing her great grandmother in a tight hug.