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The Beginning at the End

and the Book that Gave Breath

By Brandi JohnsonPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
2
The Beginning at the End
Photo by Val Pierce on Unsplash

I laid on the bed, eyes closed, clutching my mother’s favorite scarf. I had sprayed it with her perfume and was daydreaming of laying beside her, chatting as we always had. The cream and blue floral curtains allowed a thin sunbeam to reach my face. I felt a brief moment of peace.

"Beatrice? Where are you?" my aunt called out.

"In here," I reluctantly replied. She was the last person I wanted to see.

"What on earth are you doing in your mother's room?" she asked as strutted in.

I rolled over and opened my eyes, not surprised to see her in a white Chanel cocktail dress and hot pink Louis Vuittons. Mahogany hair fell down her back in perfect waves. Her makeup was impeccable. You would never know that she was here for her sister's funeral.

"Please call me Bea, as I have previously requested many, many times."

"Why would I call you Bea when your mother named you Beatrice?" A rhetorical question to be sure. She looked me up and down.

"Are you ready? That's not what you're wearing is it?" Her brow furrowed.

Evidently my black dress from Target did not meet her expectations, even if I loved the lace details and the way it hit just below my knees. My blonde hair was in a low bun and I wore only a bit of concealer, my weak attempt to cover under-eye circles.

I stood up, set down the scarf and said, "Actually, it is. I think black is absolutely the best choice for my mother's funeral."

Her eyes narrowed but she quickly slid her sad mask back into place.

"Pink is my favorite color, and I look horrible in black. Besides, Lucy would have been fine with it. Let's go," she said as she reached for my arm.

I pulled back and said, "I can't find the locket Mom left me. The one that was Gran's. It had a long silver chain, the locket was oval…" my voice tapered off as my eyes once more swept the room. Mom had always kept it on her dresser across from the bed.

I walked over and pulled open the curtains, hoping sunlight would cause the jewelry to glisten.

"Oh, darling. You don't mean this one, do you?" Astrid asked as she lifted up the locket that had been hidden under her dress.

"I'm sorry, dear, but your mother actually said I could have it. Right before she died. Remember?” She paused.

"Oh, that's right. You wouldn’t know that. You were sleeping, right?"

I closed my eyes as a wave of grief and guilt swept over me. I was immediately thrown back to that morning.

I had been up all night with Mom. Holding her hand, keeping her comfortable, praying with her and for her. Her breathing had normalized around 4am, and I had passed out in the chair beside her.

I was awoken by our hospice nurse, Marin, gently shaking my shoulder. Her brown eyes were brimming with tears, and I knew. She leaned closer to hug me. It was then, as I crumbled into that embrace, that I saw Astrid in the background.

No, I had thought. No. No. No! She should not have been the last voice Mom heard before she passed away. Astrid had treated Mom’s illness like a gossip headline, while I drove her to all her appointments and chemotherapy sessions. A howl erupted from somewhere deep inside as a heavy weight dropped onto my chest. How could I have fallen asleep?

"Beatrice! Beatrice! Snap out of it! We must go downstairs now!" Astrid shrieked, bringing me back to the present moment.

I opened my eyes as three tears escaped and rolled down my cheek. I was both brokenhearted and furious. How had this beastly woman been my sweet mother's sister?

I followed her out the door, down the hallway, then turned right as I held onto the banister. I gazed back toward my mother's room, longing to return there and feel her presence once more.

Taking a deep breath, I started my descent and heard children's feet and hushed giggles. A small smile appeared on my lips, as I knew who those giggles belonged to and that my favorite living relative would have driven them here.

I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and found my Uncle Christopher waiting for me. Before I had a chance to get a word out, two little boys barreled into my legs, nearly knocking me over.

"Toby! Phillip! Manners! Give her a little warning, will ya?" Tess called out as she quickly approached, black heels clicking on the hardwood.

She gave me a good, quick hug then rested her hand on the baby bump beneath her black maxi dress. She gave her boys the classic big-eyed, expectant mom stare.

"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Bea." The blonde-haired boys said in unison, sounding more mischievous than apologetic.

I smiled, bent over, and said, "You are forgiven, my little renegades." I hugged each of them in turn, thankful for the distraction.

"You really should not encourage them, Beatrice," called Astrid from across the room. "They should be better behaved by now. If I had children…" she prattled on, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening.

I gazed up and made eye contact with Christopher. He gave me a sad smile and a wink before announcing, "Bea and I are heading out."

He turned back to us and said, "Tess, you can drive our car. We'll take Bea's. That okay?"

She nodded.

Christopher bent down and looked at his boys. "Boys, please listen to your mother. I know you're excited to see Bea, but today is a big day. A day to celebrate Aunt Lucy's life. But also a sad day. We need to know we can count on you two to make good decisions. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Daddy," they said before gazing up at me with sadness and confusion in their eyes. Death was hard enough for adults to understand; I could only imagine the questions rolling around in their minds.

Christopher gave the boys a hug and then ruffled their hair, much to Tess's horror. She began smoothing it back down when he planted a kiss on her cheek.

Tess grinned, rolled her eyes, and said, "Get Bea outta here.”

Christopher linked my arm in his and we left without another word. Astrid had started arguing almost immediately after his announcement, but he was not dismayed. He was extremely proficient at ignoring her.

Once seated in my gray Corolla, I saw two lattes waiting. One hot, one cold. I smiled and said, "Thanks, Topher."

He grinned at the nickname, something that had started in my childhood. "I figured you would need to be caffeinated for today. I wasn't sure if you would prefer iced or hot, so I got both."

I grabbed the hot drink, knowing it was a caramel mocha with soy milk. He had even remembered to half the syrup flavoring when he chose to forego an extra espresso shot. It was nice to feel loved, especially after the locket incident.

I sipped my drink and felt its warmth spread within me. I closed my eyes and tried to forget my sadness, the ache that had started with my mother's cancer diagnosis and now threatened to consume me.

The gentle hum of the car and the accompanying silence allowed my mind to wander. I thought back to our last few days together. Mom had been murmuring something about a little black book. It still made no sense, but it was a reprieve from the pain. Like a mystery she had left me to solve.

"Did Mom ever mention a little black book to you?" I asked, as I slowly opened my eyes and gazed at Christopher.

“No, but I remember her carrying one a few times. I actually saw her writing in it once, but she closed it quickly when I asked about it. I haven't seen it in months though. Why do you ask?"

"Sometimes, when she was in and out of consciousness at the hospice house, she would mention it. I think she wanted me to have it but I don't know where it is or what is in it." I sighed, frustrated and saddened that I had not yet found it.

"Well, where did she keep things she wanted hidden? And who would she need to hide it from?"

We both knew the answer to the second question: Astrid. I gazed out my window and pondered over the first question. In her dresser? Under her bed? Didn't she show me something when I was little? Somewhere she hid money from Dad?

"Is your dad coming today?" Christopher asked, interrupting my silent detective work.

"I doubt it. He never really forgave her for sending him to rehab." I continued watching the fields pass by.

My dad had a gambling addiction. He had lost all of their money when Mom was pregnant with me. He had gone to Gamblers Anonymous for a while after that, but started betting big again when I was five years old. My mom had to start cashing her paychecks and hiding the cash so he would not use it (and lose it).

My eyes got big. That was it! I had seen where she hid the money. There was a loose floorboard under the dresser. How had I forgotten?

"So. How are you really doing, Bea?"

My excitement fizzled out with his question and the sound of gravel under the tires. We had arrived at the church. It was time to pay tribute to my mother, even though I was only twenty-two years old.

Her funeral was a blur of tears, arched ceilings, incense, and too many hugs. I felt loved and grateful for the support, but I really just wanted to go home. Home to my mother, or at least to her memory.

Christopher sensed I had had enough. He stood up at the reception and said, "Thank you, everyone, for coming. We really appreciate it. Bea and I have to go, but please let Astrid know if you need anything. Thanks again."

I gave him a weak smile, knowing that Astrid would not be impressed with this plan. I leaned into his side as he led me back to the car. I was dozing by the time we hit the highway.

Once the car stopped moving, I woke with a start. The floorboard!

“Thanks, Topher. I’ll call you later!” I said as I got out and bolted into the house.

I locked the front door, kicked off my shoes, sprinted up the stairs and down the hall to Mom's room. I grunted as I slid the dresser over to reveal the second floorboard from the wall. I opened it and gasped. A little black notebook lay atop a brown paper bag.

My mother’s handwriting greeted me when I flipped open the cover.

Bea,

Hello my love! Inside the bag you will find $20,000. I know Topher will look after you when I'm gone, but I wanted to provide a bit of independence. I love you so much, little bug.

I wish I could have stayed with you longer. I hope this notebook brings you comfort.

I will meet you in your dreams.

Love,

Mom

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked in the bag. I couldn’t believe it. Somehow, she was still taking care of me.

Leaving the money in my lap, I skimmed the notebook. It was full of memories and letters for future events. A letter for my wedding day, the birth of my first child, my decision to not have kids. So many letters for so many situations. Again, she was taking care of me.

I missed her terribly but she felt infinitely closer as I hugged the little black book.

"Thank you, Mom. I love you." I said to the book as I exhaled with ease.

grief
2

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