The Occupant

The late evening sun filtered through the beveled glass of the front door. Little specks of dust sparkled and glittered in a beam of light as they followed its path to the floor. The living room was lit in a blaze of light and shadows. They played upon the many pictures mounted on the walls, and the bric-a-brac on the shelves and tables around the room. The house itself was quiet except for the low murmurings of song that came from the front bedroom to the left of the living area. Dusk was almost upon the house.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Upon entering the room to the left was nice sized dresser which held pictures of loved ones, different sized jewelry boxes, and a collection of music boxes and snow globes which also danced in the late evening light. In the far left corner of the room was a rocking chair which at the moment was host to a hospice nurse who was rocking back and forth in time to the songs. On the other side of the room was a chest of drawers which held all the amenities of the bed ridden. On the top of the chest sat adult diapers and bed pads, creams, lotions, and ointments. There were clean night clothes and underwear in the top drawer and extra bed sheets in the middle two drawers. In front of the two windows on the wall by the rocker was a hospital bed.

Occupying the bed was an old woman of about eighty. Her face was withered with time and experience. Her toothless mouth and her eyes were opened slightly. You could see her eyes move under the partial closure of her lids. They moved like the eyes of someone deep in REM sleep. Her hands and arms were old and covered with freckles and age spot. Her hands and fingers were curled and gnarled, inflicted by the ravages of arthritis. Her body made a slight form under the covers.

Gathered around her were three women. Each one hovered over the frail figure that was in the bed. There were two women on each side of bed. A slim middle aged woman with tired blue eyes and graying blonde hair was holding the left hand of the woman in the bed. A younger brunette was on the other side holding the occupants left hand. Tears escaped her dark blue eyes as she sang songs to the woman in the bed. At the end of the bed was a young blonde woman who bared a striking resemblance to the oldest woman. She stood at the foot of the bed on the left side of the occupant. She sang along with the other two, rubbing the old woman’s legs every now and then through her covers. The nurse kept a vigilant eye on the occupant coming close to the bed only when it was time to swab her mouth or check on her breathing; otherwise, she kept a silent vigil in the in the corner.

The trio around the bed had been praying and singing over the occupant for a good part of the afternoon. Each watched as the breath slowly ebbed out of the occupant’s body. The bedridden woman let out a long raspy cough prompting the singing to stop and the nurse to come over to the bed. After listening to the old woman’s chest, the nurse gently patted the occupant on her head.

“I think we should leave her to her rest now. I will get you when it’s time.” The nurse had a sweet, calm, deliberate manner about her as she walked over to the bedroom door and opened it for the three women.

They all looked at each other with tears in their eyes, hearts trembling. They serenaded the old woman with her favorite song before quietly saying good-bye and leaving the room. Only the nurse remained behind.

On the other side of the door the shadows grew larger across the living room as the sun outside slowly made its way behind the western horizon. No one spoke. The house remained silent. The trio mad their way into the dining area and sat down at the table. The young brunette woman got up and poured herself a glass of iced tea.

“Does anyone want anything to drink?” she asked.

The other two both nodded their heads and she pulled out two more glasses from the cupboard and proceeded to pour all of them some tea. This emptied the pitcher which she promptly poured water in from the tap and set in the sink. She brought the glasses to the table and each of them sipped on their tea while remembering the dying woman in the other room.

Before long they each would interrupt the cold silence of the dining room while recalling a memory or event they had been thinking of. Tears turned to laughter and back to tears as the approaching night grew closer. After she had finished her tea, the oldest of the women got up.

“I am sorry girls, but I just can’t …I’m tired I really need to get back down to the house.”

The brunette assured her it was okay and yes, they would come and get her if anything should happen. It was alright, it was a long day for someone who was still recovering from cancer treatment. The brunette walked her sister to the door summoning the young blonde woman to drive her down the road to her house. She hugged her sister tight not realizing at the time that in as little as three months time she would lose her too. Cancer never really goes away you know, it just sleeps from time to time.

Her sister and her niece walked out the door leaving her alone. She returned to the dining room. Thoughts kept running through her mind, guilty thoughts, sad thought, tormenting thoughts. How could this be the end for her? How could I have let her down so? Why didn’t I hear her when she fell?
Guilty thoughts flooded her brain. Maybe it wasn’t a truth but to her it was absolute. Had she not gone to bed exhausted from a weekend with hardly any sleep, perhaps today, Friday, she would not be waiting for her mother to die. Perhaps if they had never had that argument on the back porch, perhaps if she had been more insistent about her mother’s not smoking… Perhaps if she had never gotten angry and had not decided to take a night off from her care, her mother may not lay dying in her hospice bed right now.

A horrendous burden had been placed upon her lately, perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps she really could not give her mother what she needed. Wasn’t that the accusation her mother hurled at her on the porch last Saturday? Perhaps deep down she wanted her mother to be gone, she wanted the suffering to be over, and she wanted to be out from under so she could finally start her own life. And weren’t these wicked little thoughts? Did she really, deep down, want her mother to be dead? Was she evil? Probably the most troubling question of all, where exactly was God? Why had He abandoned her? These questions plagued her tired, heart-broken mind. Tears ran down her cheek, but she made no sound. She just sat there and thought and thought and thought. Finally, an end came to their torments when the nurse immerged from the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, honey but I think it is time.”


She got up from the table and made her way back into the bedroom, her mother, the occupant, was in the throws of the unmistakable sounds of a death rattle. The young woman took the hand of the old woman dying in the bed. She ran her hand over the smooth head of her dying mother. Eighty-one years escaped from her mother's body. She tenderly touched the old woman's forehead, and kissed her mother on the cheek for the last time.

The old woman opened her eyes and drew her last breath. The word Mom escaped the young woman's lips as the old woman breathed out her last long, slow breath. It felt as if all the guilt and torment of her daughter's thoughts escaped with that breath. In the end, there was only relief. Then all was completely silent. Eighty-one years were gone in an instant. All that remained in the hospital bed was the lifeless occupant who once was a vibrant, loving, and kind woman. The young woman sat beside the bed holding the hand of her mother who had just passed from her life just as the sun had passed behind the horizon. Darkness crept upon the empty room. The young woman got up and left the dark room and the occupant. The house was still and quiet except for the low murmuring sounds of sobbing.