The Red Flannel Rag

She had been so sick so many times before, and she hadn’t died. Was this just

another false alarm? What would life be lik e without Mom? I didn’t bring any clothes to

wear to her funeral. I’m glad I didn’t bring clothes, what would people think if I arrived

with clothes to wear to a funeral and she didn’t die? She couldn’t be dying because she

had just gotten well enough to be released from the hospital. She must be stronger than

I thought. She had just gone through major surgery. She was home now, and she always

improved when she came home after each crisis. How would I be able to be with her

and let her go if she were dying? Could this be the moment I had been dreading for my

entire life?

Finally, the trip ended with me pulling up in front of Mom’s house. There was

only one car there —Brenda’s. Maybe Mom had rallied? I expected more cars when I

drove up. I walked in the house. My sister was in the kitchen washing dishes.

Everything seemed normal — this was another false alarm.

I knew that Mom was in a hospital bed in the living room, so I walked slowly to the

door. Her eyes immediately met mine, and she said my name , “Peggy.” I walked to her

bed and took her hand. I said, “Happy birthday, Mom. Are you feeling bad today?” She

shook her head yes, and a faint smile came to her lips. She looked deeply into my eyes

and said, “Help me, I’m afraid.”

I knew then she w as really dying, so I told her, “Mom, close your pretty eyes and

rest.” She closed her eyes and her breathing became slower and very calm. I told my

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