The End

by Edie Abrams

I stayed with my mother 

day and night, curled on a chair,

my head on the bed by her feet.

I repeated her life story

to nurses, cleaners, and

cafeteria workers, and

held her hand, caressed

her forehead, kissed 

her face all over,

called her “mommy,”

whispered to stay with me 

longer or be free to go…

They say hearing’s the last 

to fail so I played operas, 

Beethoven, and Fiddler.

Eyes closed, mouth locked open,

breath wheezy, her face

translucent as porcelain.

I found a Polish song 

she used to sing to me

“Maryna! Maryna, gotuj pierogi!” *

When young, I had laughed at “monkey” 

only now to find out it’s really “maką.” **

As the song ended, so did she…

just like that, life vanished

imperceptible and gently.

I climbed onto her bed and 

held her in my arms, my angel.

* “Maryna! Maryna, cook me pierogi!”

** pronounced “monka” (flour)

~

My mother almost made it to 96. Her death was the first bedside death that I experienced.  It was not at all how I expected it to be. Even though it was in a hospital, it was beautiful . . . and awesome.  My daughter Addie commented that, after her Grandma heard the Polish song, it was as if she returned “home.” Although we are not a religious or mystical family, concepts from religion or spirituality are apropos to our experiences.