Saying Goodbye

 Today is the day. The Day of Goodbyes. We’ve been wondering if this day would come for over six months. Ever since Mom got her diagnosis: small-cell lung cancer, spread throughout one lung. She tried chemotherapy; she tried surgery; she tried radiation therapy. Nothing worked. 

Last month, Mom’s oncologist suggested applying for stasis. It’s not what you want to hear from your doctor. It means your case is hopeless. It means you’d otherwise be doomed to die. It means saying goodbye to friends and family, perhaps for a little while, perhaps forever. 

Back in the early 2100s, A woman’s son was on his deathbed, so she was pulled out of stasis to say goodbye to her son. She sued because her disease could not still be cured. During the time it took taking her out of stasis and the waiting period to be put back in, her disease progressed to the point where stasis was no longer possible. Her family members were also upset and sued the government for pulling her out of stasis.

Now, people must make stasis wills, before they are put under. They can list under what circumstances they can be pulled out or if they never want to be pulled out until they have a cure or a big event happens. They can also list if they want to be disconnected from stasis if all family members have died without being woken.

Today, Mom will be one of 100 people with terminal illnesses chosen to go into spaces. 900 other people will also go into stasis with her, but those 900 people paid for the privilege. Most of them will probably be young or middle-aged people who are very rich or famous. What will Mom‘s life be like when she is woken?

I had a horrible time sleeping last night. My sleep pod recorded elevated brain and heart activity. It even gave me a dose of melatonin halfway through the night, after the seventh time that I had woken up in a cold sweat. I don’t want mom to be scared. I don’t want her to have to live a life without knowing anyone around her. Maybe this was a bad idea for Mom to do this?

I debate over whether I should call mom while getting ready in the morning. I take some time in my smart shower when I finally make the decision. I ask the ASI (Alexa/Siri Interface) to give Mom a ring.

“Hello?” says Mom. 

“How are you feeling today, Mom?”

 “Oh honey, of course, I’m sad to leave you and everyone I love, but I’m also really excited about what the future holds. I’m so glad to have a chance to be a part of it.” She pauses and chuckles. “So…What are you gonna put in my box this afternoon?”

“Mom… You know I can’t tell you yet!”

Everyone put into stasis are allowed one 2‘ x 4‘ box of personal items. Everything else they own is either transferred to friends or family to take care of or put into monetary value. The government would take care of their finances until they were pulled out of stasis. No clothes, food, or anything else would be needed. The people in stasis would be given everything nothing needed after from now until such a time as they could live on their own. Friends and family generally chose one item or a monetary gift to give during the Goodbye Party prior to SendOff. 

I have about 3 more hours to kill before the Goodbye Party. SendOff was scheduled for 3:00pm. Then a team of lawyers would start the MSWRs (Mass Stasis Will Readings). Our family is scheduled for 5:00pm. I am having mixed feelings about everything. I’m not ready to say Goodbye to Mom...but I guess I would’ve had to say goodbye to her in a few months anyway. The custom is to have your Goodbye written down beforehand and publicly said in front of friends and family at the Goodbye Party. I’ve always been a procrastinator; mine wasn’t even written yet. 

I decide to go visit Dad. He was buried at Dunkel Faith Cemetery 3 years ago. Freak heart attack. Dad was always wary about using the sleep pods. He called it government control on his sleep. Using one would’ve shown early signs and could’ve saved him. Instead, he left us at only 58. Now Mom is leaving, too. 

Dad’s stone still looked new. The cemetery was beautiful, with built-in walking paths, gardens, and tree pods instead of the typical graves. Dad’s headstone was only a little in front of his tree pod. We might have to get it moved in a couple years. Mom had started a small garden a couple years ago with only things that would return year after year. Raspberry bushes, strawberry, rhubarb, flowers for every season. I had a small apricot tree I started from seed when Mom started this garden. Today, I brought it here, to add to the splendor. 

“Dad,” I start to say while digging up a place for the apricot tree. “You always loved apricot...perhaps a bit too much. All that pie and cobbler clogged your arteries, but it was your stubbornness that did you in. Why Dad? You died way too soon. You missed so much.” I pat the dirt down around the new apricot tree. Then, I stand up and glare at Dad’s tree, shaking the dirt off my hands. “You have two new grandkids, Millie’s kids, a set of twins. I still live alone, but I did meet someone last month. I just couldn’t get serious with all the stuff going on with Mom. I...I feel like an orphan.” I huddle against the tree, sobbing quietly. 

“Donny?” I jerk my head up at the sound of my mother’s voice. I drag my hands quickly across my cheeks to wipe the tears away. “Mom?”, I inquire. “Mom, you’re supposed to be getting ready for the Goodbye Party.” “What is there still left to do?” Mom asks exasperatedly. “Everything is settled already. Nothing in that house is mine anymore. Even the clothes that I’m wearing now will be someone else’s tonight.” Mom sounds rather bitter about the whole process. “But this,” she gestures to the garden she had cultivated for the past two years. “This will always be mine.”

Mom and I spend the rest of the time before the party weeding and watering the garden. When it is time to go, Mom rests her hand on Dad’s headstone. “Bye, Dave. At least I can hope I’ll see you again.” Mom had to change into a government jumpsuit. A royal blue one with bright green sleeves. Suits were color-coded by age, year put into stasis, and bio information was coded into symbols on the front left shoulder. Mom whispers to Millie and I that even her underwear is color-coded, with the same symbols stamped on the front. 

Millie and I are front and center at the Goodbye Party. Millie is unusually quiet about everything. Her 5 children, even the twins, are there with her life-partner Bobbie. Seeing all of Mom’s friends, her sisters, and her brother surround her with love and comfort makes me suddenly miss Camilla. Maybe I am ready for something serious after all. 

The Gifting Time came.  By custom, we go in order of those who have known her longest. Millie’s kids go first, giving Mom a handprint painting. Then it is my turn. I give Mom a new holographic picture cube that held thousands of pictures. Pictures could be called up by the memory they were associated with. Little stories were written about each one. Also included was a Stasis Warranty in case it stopped working while Mom is in Stasis. Other gifts are given, mostly pictures, memories, or other mementos, including a portrait of Dad from Mom’s siblings. 

Then it was time for the Goodbyes. Friends go first with long memories and stories. (They are supposed to stick to 3 minutes or less with the memories being recorded, but most go over their allotted time.) Family goes next, starting with Mom’s sisters and brother. Then Millie goes with stories about growing up and holidays. Even Millie’s oldest daughter and life-partner say something. 

I am the last to go. I stand up on stage and can’t say a word. Tears start rolling silently down my cheeks. Finally, I manage to choke out, “I...I’m really going to miss you, Mom.” I look at Mom. She is crying, too. She runs up and gives me a giant hug. Mom knows how hard it is for me to express my feelings. 

The Final Goodbyes call came over the loudspeakers. Mom gives tearful hugs to everyone. Then she grabs hands with Millie and I, holding on tightly as she approaches the Stasis Entrance. She whispers, “I’m so glad you’re my son,” before letting go and walking into the building. “Bye, Mom,” I whisper back. 

In our MSWR, Mom listed a few sentimental items to be given to friends and family members. She let Millie be in charge of selling most of the items in the house and her trust fund. Mom also set up little trust funds for each of Millie’s kids. For me, she left me the house “to take care of until I return”. She also left me in charge of Dad’s garden. She left me the things that really mattered to her. But I wish she had left herself instead.