Chapter 4
666 Words
4
The palliative care nurse visited morning and night now, but Judy wilted with each day. Her laugh mellowed to a smile and then to a nod. Laura sat by the bed as the nurse finished checking Judy on her morning visit. Laura held her mother's hand. Her skin was soft and loose as it hung slackly off her bones. The hand that was once so firm and strong. The hand that had rubbed her back when she was sick. The hand that had caressed her face when she cried. The hand that once tickled her ribs, tying them both in ribbons of laughter.
The nurse packed up her things, put her hand on Laura’s shoulder, and leaned to whisper in her ear. ‘She’s as comfortable as can be.’
Laura looked at the nurse. They didn’t need words. They both knew it was time. The doctor had been by yesterday, offering for Judy to come into the hospital where they could administer some morphine to make her more comfortable, but Judy had refused. ‘It is time,’ Judy had whispered to Laura.
The nurse patted Laura’s hand. ‘I’ll put the kettle on for you,’ she whispered.
Laura watched as her mother’s eyes wandered around the room and then focused on Laura, seemingly tracing the outline of her face, before the corner of her mouth twitched into a half smile and she gently closed her eyes.
Laura felt the grip on her hand tighten, as if her mother was communicating the words she couldn't speak. She watched her chest rise and fall, taking in a final breath before it sank gently and remained perfectly calm and still. A warm feeling came over Laura, like a fluffy blanket. A hug. A goodbye. Laura laid her head next to her mum’s hand and sobbed. Her heart felt like it was being choked, her lungs searching for air. Emotions enveloped her thoughts. Guilt. Loss. Heartbreak. Loneliness. Despair. Helplessness.
She moved closer and pushed the hair from her mother’s pale face. She touched her sunken cheeks and ran her fingers over her mother’s cracked lips, thinking of the kisses her mother used to smother her with every bedtime. Judy would tuck the sheets up close to Laura’s chin and then cover her cheeks and forehead with a flourish of what felt like a thousand kisses that would leave Laura in fits of giggles. Laura remembered when she was about ten, asking her mum why it was her ritual every night. She replied, ‘Because you should always go to sleep happy and knowing you are loved. Every single night.’ She’d smiled before adding, ‘I love you more than ice cream’–something Laura first declared at the age of four–something that had stuck and become their sign-off every night since.
Laura wiped the tears with the back of her hand and whispered in her mum’s ear, ‘I love you more than ice cream.’
The next few hours passed in a blur with Laura dealing robotically with the formalities that needed her attention. Finally, she found herself sitting at the kitchen table, the quietness of the house descending upon her. She picked up her phone and dialed Stella’s number.
‘Laura, you just caught me. How are you, sweetie? How’s Jude?’
Laura swallowed, the tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘She’s gone, Stel.’ There was no easy way to push those words out.
Stella gasped, and then Laura heard her begin to cry.
‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.’ She paused to sniffle. ‘Oh, Jude.’
Laura’s shoulders shook. All she wanted to do was sink into Stella’s warm arms and be comforted by her peony scent of familiarity.
‘I’ll be right there,’ Stella whispered.
‘Have you thought about the funeral, honey?’ Stella said as they sat at the kitchen table after their initial grief had subsided.
‘I was thinking Thursday. I don’t want to drag it out. I have to ring the minister yet, and hopefully the CWA hall will be free, and—’
‘Laura, stop. Leave it all to me. I will handle it all.’
‘Stella, it’s okay…’
‘No. I insist.’
Laura didn’t think she had any more tears to cry, but they still escaped her eyes.
‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. She loved you more than—’
‘More than ice cream. I know.’
Stella chuckled through her sobs. ‘Oh, Laura. I’m here for you. Always know that, right?’
‘I know, Stella. Thank you.’
- Writer
