We said goodbye to mom this year, watched her waste away from the inside out, from bone to blood to skin. She did suffer but much less than most, she died in her own bed surrounded by her children. We had a living memorial, we made peace and tried to say goodbye with no regrets but we all failed in our own ways. Nat wrote a song last week, the chorus says “We tried to close your eyes. We tried to shut your mouth. Did you have something left to say? Were you afraid of missing out?” I wept when I heard this. It was perfect, exactly how I felt, everything, the regret and guilt and horror all wrapped up neatly into a melancholy chorus. The last time I saw mom was Wednesday morning, as she lay in bed, deflated, eyes and mouth agape, stiff, rubbery with death. We tried, but they wouldn’t shut, wouldn’t let her be at peace. We covered her with a blanket, I don’t remember what color. We waited. I think Emiko stood in the back of the room, silent and invisible. Sarah rose from the couch, came in and left the room immediately. “She looks worse than before” she said, returning to the couch and hiding beneath her blanket. Nat and I stood by her bedside, two identical figures in the darkened room, trying one after another to close her eyes, to shut her mouth. We stood like tree stumps in a field, waiting for morning. Jay sat on the bed, the loyal companion staying with the dead. When they came to take her, fat men in dark suites from Evergreen Memorial, there was no terror as with dad. The fear induced panic in the chest, the panic of having something taken before you’re ready, of feeling the hand at your back push you from the bridge before you can jump; it was absent. I felt tired, distant, sad but not panicked. The ghoulish figure didn’t seem like her, and I was relived in some way to not have to endure it’s presence anymore.

The cloth, floral print bag was wheeled away, out the front door and past the porch that dad had built for us, past the ivy fence she had asked him to plant and into the black car with the two men. The door shut and the house was so still. We each went back to bed to return to our dreams and delay grief until the morning.