Papa and his son and daughter left the ante-room, where the family had gathered when the doctors said to. They were driving Papa home to get pajamas, toiletries and time to prepare to spend the night in her small room. A rocker by the bedside beckoned me once they had left. The made-up sofa-bed stood kitty-corner at the foot of her bed.
In spite of some hesitation, I took the moment to settle quietly in the rocking chair; did she sense that it was me, sitting there like I belonged?
My mother-in-law’s coarse breath came rasping in her throat; I longed to touch her blue-veined hand, but she was resting better now: quieter, now that we were not chatting in the ante-room, getting updates on Grandma’s condition.
I hadn’t known . . . all these years . . . I had not known . . .
(Her daughter recently had told the story of a life - long battle, beginning in the child-bearing years.)
She’d taken the “Bitter with the Better”—a favorite saying of hers,
And to the end, she’d “Lived Life” between “Chemo-weekends:”
She’d played Bridge with friends; she’d gone out to eat with us; she’d gotten up to put the food away when Papa noticed a “buffet” was sitting out too long.
“Are you a daughter?” Her query startled me from reverie; the breathing on the bed continued, more quietly, or so it seemed.
The kind-voiced hospice nurse cocked her head to listen, to watch . . . The nurse decided that the I.V. pain drug was enough and asked again, “Are you a daughter, then?”
“No, I’m just an “in-law,” I responded without thought. The “Angel-in-White” smiled her enigmatic smile.
I said to her, or to myself, “The name ‘Mother-in-Law’ sounds so cold.”
As though the conversation continued, I went on, “I heard on the radio today, the phrase, ‘Mother-in-Love.’—I like that.” Although no further word was breathed, the angel seemed to agree.
Then I rocked a bit, back and forth, like my mother once rocked me. I thought of my own Mother’s Love, then I simply whispered: “I Love You . . .” to the courageous woman in the bed.
I believe she knew that it was me, sitting, rocking there. I believe we both forgave each other; as we said our silent goodbye.
