Genevieve’s Vision

Today, in honor of the anniversary of Genevieve’s journey to Heaven, here’s the final chapter of “A Cup of Tea on the Commode.”

I stand frozen in that surreal moment, staring at Mom. The pulsating air mattress continues to breathe, keeping her lifeless body afloat. I should turn it off, but I don’t. The sound comforts me. Then a strange force compels me to look out her bedroom window. To my surprise, that parade of young children appeared. The parade Mom saw so often. All well-dressed and looking like they’d just escaped Mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The girls in pigtails, ponytails, or pixie cuts wear frilly white dresses, white lace socks, and patent-leather shoes. Each carries flowers: single stem or bouquet. The boys with their combed hair, starched white shirts, dress pants, and shiny black shoes. They hold brightly colored balloons, just as Mom described.

As they round the cul-de-sac and pass by our house, the children wave to me. I wave back. But when I see the last child I freeze, but my heart jumps. It’s the girl from the black-and-white photo on Mom’s front wall. Eight-year-old Genevieve. She’s dressed in a frilly white dress and patent-leather shoes and holds a posy of daisies. But now she also wears Mom’s earrings, the same earrings Mom wanted to wear in heaven.

The parade moves on, but young Genevieve lingers. She flashes me a familiar smile. I turn back to the bed. The stress on Mom’s face has melted away, as have many of her years. Her rosy complexion is back. For the first time in weeks, she looks at peace. I turn back to the window. Young Genevieve is gone. The sidewalk is empty but for the posy of daisies.

And I say, “On the ball, Mom. On the ball.”

May your cups of tea and bowls of sherbet continue to be plentiful in Heaven.

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