Theo invited Mary, Henry and their children to his table from time to time. He was lonely, but for his children. Smiling warmly at their antics and chatter, he would discuss their day at the table. It became habit, that Mary and her family would dine with Theo on Saturdays and Sundays, along with Tall Tom and his family. The discussions would be lively and fraught with laughter and shouting at times. Liza joined them from time to time, but she was becoming frail and her sight was going. Many days, she sat in front of her small cabin, listening to the children laugh and play. She wove baskets and knitted to keep her hands busy. On Sunday afternoons, she sat on a low stool as Mary combed through her gray frizzled hair. Mary’s hands would rub the older woman’s scalp, soothing away the headaches that now plagued Liza.
Liza’s wasted body, once robust and vibrant, leaned heavily on Mary’s legs. Her head nodding from time to time, a light snore drifting up. Mary smiled gently at her mother’s old friend. Liza had been like a second mother to her. Mary had known and loved her all her life. She had been a grandmother to her children, teaching them old songs and hymns. Mary’s hands worked methodically over the hair, braiding it into neat cornrows. She continued to rub Liza’s head, long after she had finished braiding her hair. Liza was dying and Mary knew it. The headaches made Liza vomit and nearly blind. Mary was sad, but she knew that Liza would meet up with her mother in heaven.
Mary went to Liza cabin one morning, when she didn’t see Liza up and sitting out in the morning sun. Going into the small cabin, she found Liza sitting in her bed, crying. Her head hurting dreadfully.
“My head is fair to splittin’, it wants ta come off. Go to my bag, you’ll see a little red square inside. Take that, there’s special leaves. Make me a tea, gal.” Liza whispered, rocking back and forth. Mary moved swiftly, taking the kettle from its hook and poured hot water into a chipped cup. Taking several small leaves from the red square, she crushed them into the cup. The smell tickled her nose and she went back to Liza’s pallet and sat beside the old woman. She guided Liza’s hands around the cup.
She instructed Mary what to fix, when Mary set water to boil. Liza told Mary she couldn’t get up from her pallet. Mary brought her old friend a cracked cup of steaming brew. Liza’s hands were shaking, so Mary helped her sip the tea. Soon, Liza became drowsy and Mary laid her old friend down. She pulled the quilts up and tucked Liza in and left her to sleep.
Mary left Liza, going up to the house to speak with Theo, before he left for the fields. Theo was sitting at the table, drinking coffee. He’d already finished his breakfast. He looked up and smiled at Mary, then saw her face and started to rise. Mary lifted a hand and he sat back down.
“I just stopped by to let you know that I think that Liza is dying. Would you mind if I stayed with her? I don’t want her to be alone.”
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course. Take all the time you need. Let Cookie know if you need anything. I’ll stop by later.” Theo said.
Mary found Cookie who was training Mary Beth, and asked for a small tray of broth and bread. Word soon spread that Liza was dying and throughout the next few days, everyone stopped by to speak with Liza. Theo had stopped by, holding the frail woman’s hand, he spoke softly to her.
“Mrs. Liza, I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for my family and myself. You just rest easy and don’t fret, we’ll take care of you now.”
Liza nodded and patted his hand. Theo looked at Mary and Mary shook her head. Liza refused food and water, she no longer felt thirst or hunger. Her body seemed to shrink before Mary’s eyes. Her arms and legs grew cold as her body shut down. Mary still tried to tempt Liza with water or broth. The door was open, letting in light and fresh air.
Liza now babbled and Mary couldn’t understand the woman. Ginny stopped by to help watch over Liza. Many of the women sat with Mary, to keep Liza company in her last hours.
“She keeps talking, but I don’t understand.” Mary said, smoothing Liza’s hair back.
“She be talkin ta those who done already gone. Liza has one foot in heaven and on foot here, with us. Her soul is preparing its journey.” Ginny said.
“Do you think she’s talking to my mother?” Mary asked hopefully.
“Could be. Maybe even Old Bitsy.” Ginny smiled gently. Both women turned as Liza’s breath became labored and rattled in her thin chest. Mary gently caressed the Liza’s face. She whispered endearments and encouragement. Mary had not been able to do this for her own mother, who had passed away in her sleep. Her hands were as gentle as angel’s kisses, lovingly caressing the pain and suffering away. In Mary’s mind, she honored her mother and Liza with her loving administrations. She leaned over and kissed Liza’s forehead, tears splashing down on the older woman.
Liza was not alone, there were many who loved her. Liza had been a force to be reckoned with, in her youth. The minutes ticked by and Liza’s breathing slowed. Mary knew that Liza would see Nan and grandchildren when she arrived at the heavenly gates. Mary’s heart squeezed when she thought of Nan’s senseless death. It had marked them all with the impossible
