The Nearly Departed
Chapter One
For the first time in over twenty years, Mom's bedroom windows are open. She's
always hated light and air. It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning, and I'm holding her
hand. Leaning in to listen to what I keep thinking might be her last words, I
can't believe what I hear out in the yard:
"I'll give you four bucks for the lawn chairs."
"Tell you what. Give me six, and I'll throw in the picnic table."
"Deal!"
It's Mother's tenant, Stan-the man who lives on the other side of the wall
in her house. He's having a tag sale.
When people say death is difficult to describe or imagine, I don't think this is
what they have in mind. With half the town of Ridgefield double-parked on our
front lawn and total strangers wandering around our backyard, haggling and
hauling away early-bird bargains, I wonder how I could ever have hoped this
would be a moment in the life of my family that other human beings could relate
to-a moment like in the movies or in novels when children gather quietly
around their mother's bedside, weeping and whispering private good-byes.
"What the hell is going on over there?" a ... read full excerpt from: The Nearly Departed: Or, My Family and Other Foreigners ebook
