The Dinner

There is a quiet, wise dignity to a dying woman, as if their final act of love is the benevolence to those they share their final days with. Women like my mother and Annie are like calm water to those of us still caught up in the rapids of the demand of time. Tasks stretch out before us, and we forget to be kind and still. When a person is dying and the tasks left are few, they set out a ripple of peace that reaches those of us who have yet to experience the relief of death. There is no question about it, I am eager to be by Annie’s side this evening, even if I have to suffer Conrad to do it.