The Final Confession of a Dying Septuagenarian


“It’s not much longer now,” Helene said.  She looked over at her younger brother, David, and kept her expression strong.  David was just staring at their mother in disbelief.

“Not much longer for what?” he asked, defensive.

Helene sighed and did her best to remain a rock.  “We need to be quiet and pray for Mom.”

David looked down and then over at his sister.  “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s in the bathroom.  Give him a break, Dave; he’s eighty-five.”  Dave looked like he was going to crumble.  “I know you’re upset.  Just hold on.”

One of the hospice workers came into the bedroom and took Mary’s blood pressure again.  The doctors weren’t sure if the heart attack she had caused her to fall and break her hip or if she fell, broke her hip and the stress from that triggered a heart attack.  All her family knew was that she was in and out of consciousness from the morphine and wasn’t long for the world.

“Do you think she’s comfortable?” Helene asked.

“I’m sure she is.” The hospice worker said.

“Of course she’s comfortable, Helene; she’s in a goddamn morphine coma.” David said, bitterly.

“Can you go and get everyone else to come in here so we can be together?  Can you do that, David?”  She had never wanted a drink like she wanted one right then.  

”Fine.”  He left the room and went to round up the rest of the family.  Helene leaned in close to her mother’s ear.

“Mom, mom?  Come on, now.  Everyone’s going to be here in a second so you need to wake up so you can see them.” She said.  Her mother stirred and opened her eyes.  

“Helene?”

“I’m right here, Mom.”  She knew it was going to be the last day to be there for her.  She couldn’t dwell on the inevitable and had to keep her brave face on.  The torch was about to be passed and she couldn’t drop it, not now.

“What’s going on?”

That was such torture.  “We’re here spending time with you, Mom.  Do you want to sit up a little bit?”

“I’d like that.”

The hospice worker came over and helped Helene prop her mother up with a few pillows and raised the head of the mechanical bed a couple of degrees with the remote control attached to the mattress.  Her mother looked so small in her large bed but knew that though her heart was wounded, it had been full of love for almost eighty years.  

“Do you want me to do your hands?” Helene asked.

“That would be nice.” Mary said.  Helene got a bottle of jasmine-scented lotion and put some on her hands.  She worked the lotion in and held hands with her mother.  “I am not going to be here much longer.”  Helene felt the breakdown coming.  “I have to depend on you to be strong when I’m gone, Helene.  You were my first and you were always my favorite.  Don’t tell David.”  They shared a giggle at the expense of the second-born.  “But you’ve got to be the one to hold everyone together.  I know you can.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, dear.”

A stream of family filed into Mary’s room and interrupted their conversation.  David, his wife and their eight-year-old twins, Helene’s daughter and her husband.  The mood in the room was of the worst anticipation of all, knowing Death was standing right there but not knowing when He’d make his move.  No one said much.  It was still quiet when their father entered the room and sat in the chair next to his wife’s bed.  He leaned over to the love of his life and whispered into her ear.  They had been together fifty-four years.  The foundation of the McKenzie household had always been side by side and now the matriarch was about to die.  The hospice worker told Helene she would be in the other room if they needed her.

Mary coughed.  “Jim, is that you?”

“It’s me, Hon.  Do you want some water?”

“Yes, please.”  He handed her a small plastic cup with a straw sticking out the top.  He guided the straw to her mouth and she carefully drank from the cup.  When she was done, she laid back down.  “Jim?”

“Yes, Mary.”

“Is my sister here?”  Jim looked up at Helene.  “Is Loretta here?  I have something to tell her.”

“She’s downstairs, Mom.” Helene said.  “I’ll go get her.”  

Helene walked out of the bedroom and went downstairs where her aunt Loretta was standing in the kitchen, spooning sugar into a cup of coffee.  A cigarette was smoldering in an ashtray by the sink.

“Is she gone yet?”

Helene was horrified by that sentiment but didn’t dignify it with a reaction.  “Mom wants you to go upstairs.  She said she has something to tell you.”

“I’ll only go up if she’s about to croak.”

Helene was uncomfortable talking to her aunt.  They had never been close, mostly by her mother’s choice.  “I know you two have a lot of bad memories but she’s about to die and wants to tell you something before she goes.”

“I shouldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

“Aunt Loretta, please.  Please come upstairs and say goodbye.”

Loretta looked at Helene.  She took one last drag, snuffed her cigarette out and walked a pace in front of her niece.  “There are lots of things you don’t know.”  Loretta entered the room and saw her sister lying in bed, frail, much smaller than she had ever been.  “Hello, Mary.”

“Lola?  Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Mary looked happy to see her sister.  “What a life it’s been, huh?”

“What a life.”

“Sit down, Lola.  I need to tell you something.  I’ve been hiding it for so long.” Mary said.

Jim stood up and offered his chair for his sister-in-law.  Loretta sat down and took off her gloves.  “Alright, I’m listening.”

“Do you know that doll you had, that baby doll with the buttons for eyes?”  Loretta nodded.  Mary looked like she was back in her day, picturing the event she was about to divulge.  “Aunt Marie gave you that doll.  You were, I guess eight and I was almost twelve but you were kind of big back then.  You were always bigger than me, Lola, especially when we were kids.  Anyway, it was your favorite doll in the whole world and one day it went missing.  It broke my heart; you searched high and low for it and you cried your eyes out because you couldn’t sleep without it.”

“I remember.  Aunt Marie gave it to me when I was six.  She went to the asylum the year after that.”

“Do you remember what happened?  And when I told you it was that colored girl, Bernice, down the street?  Oh my goodness, you got all your friends together and beat the Dickens out of her.  Hah – I remember you picked on her for a long time after that.  I know she moved when I started high school but I don't know what became of her.  Well, Loretta, I wanted you to know that I took your doll.  I didn’t like that little black girl and I thought it would be funny to blame it on her.”

The whole room remained quiet, everyone hanging on her every word.  Helene was mortified.  Mary coughed a couple more times, sighed once, closed her eyes and passed away.