It’s so hard to say goodbye. The little mama, so pretty and sweet… It’s the last supper and all the kids are there. They laugh and joke, but the underlying tone is death. This is the last time they will all sit together to share a meal as a family.
Mama arrives in an ambulance. She has to be strapped in just so. Paralyzed after a series of strokes, she cannot move one side of her body. She wears pressure support garments fashioned by her physical therapist on her left hand and feet. She hates the boots which hold her legs in place so she will not develop inward pointing toes. They are painful and she is happy when they are removed. The fleece lined glove that she wears on her left hand prevents her hand from turning into a tight-fisted bird claw.
Mama is wearing a black nightgown ensemble that looks like a dress. The tortuous boots have been removed for the occasion and she is wearing a pair of black slippers with cat faces embroidered on the toes. She has her ever present bright pink lipstick painted on her still inviting full mouth. Everyone kisses her in turn.
When asked by the server what she would like to drink, she says in a very low gravely voice, “Coffee!” She wants coffee and buttered bread. Her eldest daughter butters a piece of French bread for her as her eldest grand daughter stirs sugar and cream into the habit forming brew. She dips the buttered bread into the hot sweet milky cup. The first of three linen napkins is placed at her chin to catch the drips.
She is eating her children’s love. She eats as if this is the last food she will ever eat. They sit around her with their respective spouses and children. They laugh hugging, kissing, reminiscing, sharing stories…. She continues eating, never mumbling a word except to ask for more coffee in her stroke induced baritone voice.
Someone hands her a small plate of stuffed artichoke leaves and some pesto mayonnaise dipping sauce. She avidly approaches another dipping opportunity as she eats one leaf after another all dipped in the sauce. Buttered bread dipped in sweetened coffee and artichoke leaves dipped in pesto mayo. Her lobster tail with a side of French fries arrives with a ramekin of melted butter – more dipping ensues. She dips the fries in a glop of ketchup, and the bite sized lobster pieces in the melted butter. By now she is on her second napkin.
Every bite she takes is dipped into sweet coffee, melted butter, pesto mayonnaise, or ketchup. Splotches of creamy brown, greasy yellow, bright green and red decorate the napkin around her neck. The napkin is changed just in time for dessert.
She continues her feast with samples of New York cheesecake, peach crisp, and salted caramel ice cream – all dipped in her newly beloved coffee. She eats and dips and dips and eats, pausing only for a kiss or a photograph. Even as people begin leaving and saying their goodbyes, she continues eating as if there will be no tomorrow.
In truth, tomorrow will probably come, but those days are numbered. This is the last goodbye, the last family supper. She sits there like a mob boss admiring her brood, watching her empire function around her, all the while eating her fill of grease and sugar.
Her eldest daughter approaches, wipes her mouth gently, and kisses her eight times; on the mouth, on each cheek, on the forehead twice, on each cheek, and once again on the mouth. She would remember the feel of her mother’s lips for the rest of her life…
(First published 10/15/12)
