The Very Last Day

It's a bright, sunny Sunday morning on the thirteenth of October. There are slight wisps of a breeze that bear a pleasant coolness into the backyard of the stately suburban home belonging to Marianne Wilkerson, a seventy three year-old woman. She is relaxing in one of two low-backed, antique wooden chairs that sit around a circular coffee table, perched on her back veranda (a welcome friend to all who meet it), sipping tea and reminiscing about her late husband, remembering that today would have been his eightieth birthday. Ever since his passing thirteen years prior, she has always preferred to be called Marianne by her friends and neighbours.

"Knock; knock!" calls a warm, familiar voice from the side gate. It opens with quiet creak, and then closes with a gentle 'thud' as Marianne's daughter, Suzanna, peers around the corner with a wide grin.

"Suzy? I didn't know you were dropping by today. Why didn't you call? Or at least write?" Marianne, pleasantly surprised at the unexpected arrival of her daughter, exclaims. "How's the family?"

"Fine, mum. I came over to keep you company and to see how you were going. Which reminds me; I know I wasn't there for dinner the other night, so I brought you something to express my apologies." With an inkling of excitement on her face, Suzanna passes her mother a parcel, wrapped in bright, canary–yellow wrapping paper, over her mother's camellia bed, and under the railings of the veranda.

"Well, now. It's okay that you didn't make an appearance the other night. You're here now and that is what's important. And you really didn't need to go to the trouble of bringing me anything" As she unwraps the parcel, she chances a look down and sees what she is now holding. "Oooooh, Suzy. You shouldn't have." With a cry of excitement, Marianne holds up the now unwrapped parcel to look at the blue, floral tea-set that Suzanna has given her. "Come on inside, and I'll make us a cup of tea."

With one hand on the railing and one hand on Suzanna's shoulder, Marianne stands, collects the tea set from the table and makes her way inside, heading straight for the kitchen. Suzanna sits in the lounge, observing the furnishings of the large room.

After a short while of quiet, Suzanna calls out to her mother "I see you haven't changed much since my last visit. And father's piano appears to be in better shape than ever."

"Yes, well. I had a man come over and fix it for me to play again." Marianne enters the lounge carrying a tray with two cups, a large teapot and a plate of assorted biscuits, setting them down on the coffee table. "And, I try not to move things around too much. I don't want to disturb the peace and harmony of the place. Besides, I've had it this way for years so why change it now." And she pours tea for Suzanna and herself. They both sit, in unison, but don't say anything and Suzanna notices her mother staring at the jet-black grand piano that dominates the opposing side of the room. "He used to sit at that piano and play... for hours, just play. The most beautiful music I had ever heard." She sounded sad at the thought, "I sometimes wish I could go back to the day that I first met him - your father - so I could have the chance to fall in love with him all over again." She rises and moves to stand in front of the large, oval-shaped mirror hanging on the wall behind the piano. "If only it were possible. I was so beautiful then... and healthy." As she stares deep into the mirror, looking back at herself as a younger woman, a single tear escapes her eye.

"Mother, you are still beautiful, and you are strong. You can beat this. I know you can pull through, you always have." Suzanna stands as she says this, and walks to her mother's side, "You were always there for me when I needed you. Now it's my turn to be here for you." taking her mother's hand as she does. 

Marianne wipes her eyes and turns her face toward her daughter. "Thank you, Suzy." She looks up into Suzanna's eyes, holding that contact and her eyes begin to water. "Your eyes... They are his eyes. They're so beautiful... like his." And she begins to weep.