R.L. Napolitano

Leaving Rick and Julie at the kitchen table, I open the bedroom door and peek into the room. The shades are drawn, but the Tiffany style lamp on the dresser provides ample soft lighting for the space. My mother lies peacefully on the full size bed, a comforter pulled snugly up under thin arms. Silently closing the door, I walk to a chair that stands beside the bed.

“Hey, Ma, it’s me. Denny. I just got in.”

I bend over, kiss her cheek, and take her hand in mind before sitting in the chair.

“I came as soon as I could, Ma. I was out of town when Rick called and didn’t get the message off the machine until a few days ago. Then, well, you know how it is, I had to finish up some important stuff. And you can imagine what it’s like out there, Ma. First, I have to take a small plane into Denver. Then a flight out to Boston. That ain’t always easy. Then, wouldn’t you know, my luck, Denver gets hit with a storm and shuts down. I had to sleep at the airport. Can you believe it, Ma? Only me.

“You would have had a good laugh if you could have seen this big body trying to get a few hours shut-eye curled up on two seats at the airport. Ma, you would have had a laugh I wanna tell, ya.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get Rick’s message sooner. But I’m here now. You know, Ma, I felt bad that time when Rick had called about Dad and I didn’t get that message for, like, two weeks. You remember how bad I felt, Ma. Remember? I felt terrible. I mean, it couldn’t be helped, I was out on the road with sales calls, but you remember how terrible I felt. I think Julie thought I was making excuses. That I didn’t want to be here, but that isn’t so. You knew that wasn’t so. I got here as quick as I could.”

I count ten little plastic bottles from the pharmacy occupying the nightstand and realize life has probably not been easy for my mother since her husband died, even though I thought she was better off without him. But I would never say that to her. She’d be angry with me if I said that.

“Well, I just want you to know I got here as quick as I could, and I hope Julie hasn’t told you anything different.

“Ma, I know I haven’t called very often since dad died, but you know how time just kind of gets away from you. I mean, where does time go? Seems like I am always up against some deadline at work. It’s really stressful, Ma. It really is. I mean, I apologize for not calling more often, but it really isn’t my fault. Work is driving me crazy. It’s been a tough few years.”

There came a knock at the door and it opened.

Julie looked at me and said, “Dennis, they’re here.” Then she closed the door again.

I look at my Mother, lying there peaceful, and wonder how the years have passed so quickly. I bend over and kiss her cheek again, now a little colder than before and whisper my final good-bye.