Her: “Yeah, it’s been tough since my mama died.”
Me: “Oh no. I don’t think I knew that. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Her: “I appreciate that.”
*silence*
Me: “Had your mom been sick?”
Her: “Yes. She was.”
*silence*
2/ She turned her head to me and held my gaze.
Her: “Know what else she was?”
Me: *listening*
Her: “She was my mama.”
Ooph.
I parted my lips to speak but nothing came out. She touched my arm and smiled.
Her: “She was sick. She was up in age. She was all of those things.”
3/ Her: “But still. Before ALL that she was and is my mama.”
Me: *listening*
Her: “And if they was good to you? I’m not too sure it’s ever a good time to say goodbye to your mama for good.”
I gave a tiny nod.
*silence*
Me: “I’m sorry.”
Her: “It’s okay.”
4/ Her: “See, now that I’m older? I see so much stuff different.”
Me: *listening*
Her: “Like. . . THAT ain’t a question I ask. Or at least it ain’t one I lead with. ‘Cause even if they was sick, it’s something ‘bout being on this earth without your mama or daddy that feel off.”
5/ Her: “Instead I ask stuff like, ‘What was they like? Or what was their name?’ I come right out with that.”
Me: “Wow. That’s great advice.”
Her: “Yeah. It turn the whole conversation in a different direction.”
Me: “I love that.”
*silence*
Me: “So… what’s your mama’s name?”
6/ Her: *smiling* “Everybody called her Queenie even the grands. But her real name was Esther.”
Me: “Aaah. Like Queen Esther in the Bible.”
Her: “Yep. And her brother was named David and we called him King.”
*soft laughter*
After that, she told me all about Queenie. Sure did.
7/ And she smiled and she laughed and she cried a little, too. And all of it was good.
So very good.
I never forgot that lesson. And while I may have slipped at least once, I almost never ask that question:
“Were they sick?”
Or at least it isn’t one I lead with.
Nope.
8/ But I DO almost always ask those follow up questions. I do to this very day.
“What was their name?”
“What were they like?”
And, like she taught me, it always takes the whole conversation in a different direction.
Them: “Okay, I’ll dial up a Spanish interpreter while we walk over.”
Me: “Oooooh. Can we call for the in-person one instead?”
*silence*
Me: *starts dialing* “They come quick, I promise.”
Them: “No. . . umm. . . it’s fine.”
It did not seem fine.
2/ Though it’s been over 20 years, I remember what it was like to be a resident. I also remember the dreaded feeling of an attending speed breaker when I was trying to get a lot done.
Me: “I know it takes a little longer to call an interpreter.”
Them: “It’s cool.”
*silence*
3/ Me: “You know why I like in-person interpreters?”
Them: “No. . . they’re great. It’s fine, I promise.”
Me: “For the shenanigans.”
Them: *stops walking* “Wait. What?”
Me: “You can’t really get into too much random mischief over the phone or the tablet.”
You looked at me and smirked. I paused with my hand on the switch.
You: “That’s in the script?”
Me: “Say what now?”
You: “What my druthers is when it come to anything.”
You chuckled.
You: “We don’t call no shots.”
Ooph.
2/ Me: *nervous laugh*
You: “Y’all be asking stuff like we got a say. But then y’all do what y’all want. Wake you up and stick you with a needle. Put some cold hands on you. Talk your damn head off.”
Me: “Ouch.”
*laughter*
You: “Oh wait. You do get to pick what you gon’ eat.”
3/ Neighbor in next bed: *yelling* “Buuuuuuull-shit!”
*laughter*
Neighbor: “They got me on soup with no noodles and jello!”
Me: *chuckling* “Maybe your doctor wants you on clear foods and liquids.”
You: “Or maybe your doctor just doing whatever they feel like.”
Them: "Did you watch it?"
Me: "I saw a part of it this morning. But that was too much so I stopped."
*silence*
Me: "Did you?"
Them: "I ain't gon' even lie. I did. I kept saying I wasn't but I did."
*silence*
Me: "You okay?"
Them: "Define 'okay.'"
2/ Me: "I hear you. Retract that."
*silence*
Them: "Know what? I actually don't even recommend you watch it. 'Specially not the real bad parts."
Me: *listening*
Them: "Plus you got manchildren. It'll fuck you up too much." *covers mouth* "I mean, mess you up."
Me: *nods*
3/ Them: "Dude was a hunned-forty pounds. Prob'ly soaking wet!" *shaking head*
Me: "Even if he was 3-fifty he didn't deserve that."
Them: "But got damn! A hunned-forty? Maaaaane. That's fucked up." *raises brow* "I mean messed up."
Me: "Nah, fam. It's just what you said."