The Last Hour of Mama

                                              The Last Hour of Mama

                                                  By Daryl Campbell



         “Mama. Mama, can you hear me?” The old woman’s eyes opened to the sound of the soft voice.

         “Elizabeth?” She struggled to lift her head.

         “Liz, Mama.”

         “Oh yes. It’s good to see you again.” Her voice cracked and her breath was deep. “It’s been so long dear. Why haven’t you. . .”

         “I know mama, but I’m here now.” Liz took her mother’s hand into her own.

         Liz was a relatively young woman, in her early thirties, with long, brown hair that curled back off her forehead. Her face was smooth, lightly colored by blush and blue eye shadow. Large golden loops dangled from each ear and glistened with tiny bits of light caught along their edges. A necklace of white and blue beads fell across a white, blouse and rested on her chest. The blouse was tucked neatly into a red skirt.

         “Elizabeth.”

         “Mama!” She insisted.

         “Liz,” her mother coughed, “it’s so good to see you again.”

         “You said that, Mama.”

         “I did, didn’t I. I’m not much good to anyone any more.” She tried to sit up. “Would you help me, Dear?” The old woman shook with the effort.

         “Of course, Mama.” Liz raised the bed with an electric pad that sat at its foot. “Is that better?”

         “Yes, better. Eliz. . . Liz,” she corrected herself, “you don’t look well. Are you eating alright?”

         “Yes mama,” Liz frowned, “I’m doing fine. Frankly, I’m worried about you.”

         “I’ve lived a happy and satisfying life.”

         “Don’t say that, Mama!”

         “It’s true, Dear. I’m ready for whatever comes next. My life was what it was.” She smiled.

         “It wasn’t a failure.” Liz kissed the woman’s wrinkled forehead.

         “No, I don’t think I’ve failed at anything,” she grabbed Liz’s arm, “except maybe with you. Not entirely mind you.”

         “Mama,” Liz changed the subject, “I’ve brought someone to see you.”

         “Who?”

         “Hold on.” Liz turned and went to the door. “ Joseph.”

         A small boy, no older than four, walked through the opened door. He took Liz’s hand and she escorted him to her mother’s bed. His blond hair was short all the way around and bright blue eyes shone in the light of the room. He wore loose fitting, black overalls, a blue shirt, and a pair of white and black sneakers.

         “Joseph,” she began, “this is your grandma. Honey, say hello.”

         “Hi.” He whispered.

         “Joseph?” The older woman looked to Liz.

         “Yes mama,” Liz answered. “He’s your grandson.”

         “My grandson?” She reached out him with a worn hand.

         He backed away, then put his hand in hers. She squeezed it to let him know she already loved him.

         The old woman held on to Joseph’s hand. She refused to let go of a part of her she just discovered. Her body was small and fragile, covered with a worn blanket of yellowish yarn. Her eyes were pale and weary, but, at the moment, so full of a grandmother’s happiness. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, balanced there before they fell into the maze of cracks that marked her face.

         An old man, six feet tall with thick, gray hair, entered the room. His jeans were faded and his white, button shirt was wrinkled and dingy. He stopped immediately.

         “Elizabeth.” His voice was a low grumble.

         “Liz!” She snapped. “Mama, the doctor said we could only stay for a little while.” Her voice went soft again. “We’ll come back in a few minutes.”

         “Liz,” her mother paused, “you don’t have to go yet.”

         “We’ll be just a little while.”

         “You can stay Liz. Don’t leave yet,” she pleaded.

         “It’s for the best,” Liz insisted.

         “Could you let him give his grandma a kiss?”

         “Yes, Mama.” Liz moved to Joseph and raised him up to where his grandma lay.

”Give her a kiss.” She coaxed.

         Reluctantly, he touched his lips to his grandma’s cheek.

         “Thank you. Thank you, Liz.” Tears streaked her face.

         “We’ll be right outside, Mama.”

         “I love you, Liz. I love you too, Joseph.” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she wiped tears from her eyes.

         “We love you too, Mama.” Liz put Joseph on the ground and moved around her father and out the door.

         “Elizabeth!”

         “Let her be, Joe.”

         “Are you feeling okay, Carolyn? Do you need anything?” Joe reached for her hand.

         “I’m as well as can be expected.”

         “There’s got to be something.”

         “Don’t worry about me.” She closed her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s been a good life for me.”

         “It’s been good between you and me,” Joe added.

         “Yes it has.”

         “I love you, Carolyn. I always have.” He bent and kissed her.

         “Faithfully?” She mused.

         “Of course!”

         “I know.” She coughed violently.

         A series of beeps filled the room and it was only a few seconds before two nurses and an attending physician burst in. After a quick examination, the doctor sent one of the nurses from the room.

         “Mr. Porter,” the doctor began, “I need you to go to the waiting room.”

         “No!” Joe bellowed. “I’m not leaving!”

         “I don’t have time to argue!” The doctor told him.

         “Then don’t!”

         “Orderly! I need an orderly!” the doctor yelled.

         A young man entered the room. “Yes.”

         “Escort Mr. Porter to the waiting room.” He looked at Joe. “Make sure he stays there.”

         “Yes sir.” The orderly nodded. “Mr. Porter, please.” He pointed to the door.

         “Carolyn!” Joe was desperate.

         “Please Mr. Porter.” The orderly tried to guide Joe through the door.

         Joe left the room and complained all the way to the waiting area. He turned to see two more nurses and another orderly enter the room before he went in.

         “What is it?” Liz leapt to her feet.

         “It’s your mother, Elizabeth.” Her father answered.

         “Liz!” She yelled.

         “Damn it! Does it matter now?” Joe sat and dropped his head into his hands.

         “I didn’t mean. . .”

         “You never do!” Joe’s voice broke.

         “I don’t like seeing mama like this either! I wish I didn’t have to.” Liz walked the length of the room and peered into the hallway.

         “Then you should’ve been here for the last five years! Even a year ago would have been something!” The old man’s eyes were red and swollen.

         “You couldn’t deal with my choice of a husband! A good man by the way!” Her anger was clear. “I don’t want to get into this!” She walked out of the room. Her footsteps faded as she moved down the hall.

         Joe listened to her walk away, but watched the little boy the entire time. Joseph had leaned over a table to play with some colored blocks.

         “So, you’re my grandson? Don’t be afraid. I don’t bite.” Joe said when the boy finally looked up. “What’s your name?”

         “Joseph.”

         Joe smiled. “Well Joseph, come over here and give your old grandpa a

hug.”

         Joseph didn’t move.

         “Come on,” Joe coaxed, “it’s alright.”

         Joseph climbed out of the chair and went cautiously to his grandfather’s waiting arms.

         Joe hugged him, lifted him up, and sat him on his knee. He bounced Joseph as if he were on a pony.

         “Do you like this?” Joe asked.

         Joseph nodded.

         “When your mother was little, she liked it too.” Joe smiled at the memory.

         “She did?”

         “Yes sir, she sure did.” He laughed. “Know what else?”

         Joseph shook his head no.

         “She would go off and play in the yard stark naked.” They laughed together. “Our own little Godiva.”

         “Daddy!” The shriek startled Joe and Joseph. “Don’t tell him things like that!” Liz took Joseph off his grandfather’s knee.

         “Elizabeth.”

         “Liz, Daddy!” She hissed. “It’s Liz!”

         “You’re as stubborn as your mother!”

         “I was forced to be that way!”

         “I never disapproved of you! I was only cautious, worried about you.” He explained.

         “And you never let me be. That’s all I ever wanted.” Liz sat Joseph at the table.

         “How the hell was I supposed to know what you wanted?” He stood. “Every time I thought I knew what you wanted, you conjured up something new. All I did was try to show you what was right.”

         “Your opinions were always right, weren’t they?”

         “That’s why they’re opinions,” he paused, “because, to that person, the

opinion’s always right.”

         “You have all the answers!”

         “No Elizabeth, I don’t.”

         “It’s Liz, damn it!”

         Joe’s hand shot up as if to strike. He stopped suddenly.

         “How dare you!” He sat back down. “How dare you talk to me that way!”

         Liz didn’t apologize, instead, she went to the chair next to her son and took a seat. The room fell silent and several minutes passed before the doctor entered. Joe was on his feet instantly, but he already knew the answer.

         “How is she?” Joe choked on the words.

         “I’m sorry Mr. Porter. We did everything we could,” the doctor answered.

         “Carolyn! My dear Carolyn!” Joe fell to his knees and tears rolled down his cheeks.

         Liz’s eyes swelled with tears, but she held them back. Her thoughts spun in her head. She had accepted the fact that her mom would die and thought she’d prepared for it. She wasn’t cold, just practical. She stood and went to kneel before her father. Finally, within those first few steps, her vision blurred, all but lost in the tears that refused to be held any longer. Lovingly, she brushed back her father’s hair. He looked to her, now that she’d once again become his daughter. She gave in suddenly and took him in her arms. Joe clung desperately to her.

         “I love you, Daddy,” Liz sobbed. “I always have.”

         “I know Elizabeth.”

         She sadly smiled.