'Poopsie,' I said. 'You remember Mom's Big Book of Death, right?'
Apparently, she didn't because instead of a nod or some verbal reply she simply raised the right eyebrow and looked at me with a stoic expression. Is that the phrase I want; stoic expression I mean? Meaning that she doesn't show what she's feeling.
'Oh, you know,' I said. 'It's a notebook where she wrote the names and dates of the recently departed.'
'But it was also an address book,' she said. 'She kept phone numbers and mailing addresses there too. If I remember correctly, she also kept her medical appointments, verses of scripture, and other notes. I wouldn't call it a book of death. Maybe a personal organizer.'
'Why do you take these things away from me?' I asked. 'I come in here with something interesting to talk about and you turn the unique into the mundane. Maybe you'd like to hear about my latest flea bite. I've been bitten so many times I may develop super powers.'
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'Did I take something away? I didn't mean to and I assure you that I don't want to hear about flea bites. Do remember to spray yourself when you rescue stray dogs, I don't want you to bring fleas back into our house for the cats to deal with.'
'I'm being lectured now,' I said. 'I think I'll forget the Book of Death for now and go for a drive along the seaside.'
'Yes, do,' she said. 'Do go for a drive. That will make you feel better but first, tell me all about the death book. I want to hear from start to finish. Don't leave out any details, no matter how small. I'll bet you hold me spellbound.'
'That's better,' I said. 'The right tone and attitude. I can imagine Josephine saying something similar to Napoleon. But first, it's not the death book, it's the Big Book of Death. It's important to get these things right.'
'Of course,' she said.
But wait. It occurs to me that you may not have read the blog post entitled, Work in Progress, so let me provide a little background. My mom was the keeper of the Big Book of Death until her own passing a few years ago. As soon as Mom learned of the passing of a friend, a family member, or celebrity, she wrote the person's name and the date in the book. I put the book in a safe place after Mom's passing. Click on the link below if you want to read the first post, but not now for heaven's sake. Read this one first.
'I wondered what happened to that book,' she said. 'I haven't seen it in a while.'
'I haven't even thought of it for a long while,' I said, 'but April is the birthday month of Mom and my sister, Delores. It's the month my sister died too. I suppose my thinking of the book is related to all that. Just guessing of course. There's really no way to explain the workings of my brain.'
'At any rate, the thought that came to me was that I should write my mom's name and date of death on the last page of the book. Sort of making the whole thing complete, if you see what I mean.'
'Good idea,' she said.
I thought it a good idea to so when I got back home that day, I took the book down from its shelf and turned to the last page. Imagine my surprise when I found a note that my mom had written for me on that page. She must have expected me to do exactly what I had decided to do and then find the message.
She wrote, 'Won't it be wonderful over there, having no burdens to bear, and especially when Genome and family get there.'
So there you have it. My mom's last message to me. I suppose it can be summed up in, Hurry up and get over here. And that makes me think of that previous post where I record my conversation with Death, himself. Click here to read it: Work in Progress