“She didn't make it, Annie,” Tammy said softly, since she was the closest. “It all happened too fast, and too much happened. She was hit by the steel pipes. She was killed instantly.” Annie gasped. She opened her mouth in terror but no sound came out. And then she began flailing wildly, trying to touch them, and clutched hard at their hands. All three of them were crying again as they watched her, and so was she. They could see their own shock and pain mirrored in hers. But they had had four days to get used to it. To Annie it was raw and fresh.
“Mom died?” she said in a terrified whisper. She would have liked to look at them, and hated the bandages that kept her from it. The doctor said they had to stay on for a few more days. They were taking them off a week early as it was. But this was terrible not being able to see her sisters' faces or eyes if they had lost their mother. She wanted her bandages off, but tugging and clawing at them did nothing. She had already tried, to no avail.
“Yes, she did,” Sabrina answered her awful question. “I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry you had to go through all this.”
“Oh God, that's so awful,” she said as tears slid into the bandages from her eyes, and she could feel them burn, even though her eyes were covered. It just made it worse. She sat and cried for a long time while they held her, like three guardian angels taking care of her. But the sweetest angel of all was gone. Annie just couldn't understand it or absorb it any more than they could. It was the worst thing Annie had ever heard, and the same for her sisters, even after four days. None of them was feeling philosophical about it, although they tried to make their father think they were. “How's Dad doing?” Annie asked finally, worried about him too.
“Not good,” Candy volunteered, “but we're not so great either. I keep falling apart. Sabrina and Tammy took care of everything. They've been so great.” Candy filled her in. Annie had missed so much of what had happened. Everything in fact.
“Did I miss the funeral?” she asked, sounding shocked. She didn't really want to be there, but she felt mildly left out now, knowing that she hadn't. But there had been no other choice. They didn't know when she'd wake up, and they couldn't wait. It would have been too hard for their father, and even for them. They needed to get the agonizing formalities behind them, even without Annie.
“It was yesterday,” Sabrina said. Annie couldn't believe it. Their mother was dead. She couldn't get her mind around the words or the concept. It hadn't been easy for them either. They were still having trouble adjusting, and so would she. Their mother was just too strong a loving presence for them to be able to understand her sudden death, or even able to cope with the aftermath, which so far had been very well handled, by her sisters above all.
“Poor Dad… poor us… poor Mom,” Annie wailed in agony. “What a terrible thing to happen.” It was, even more than she knew. Now it was poor her, even more than their mom. She had lived her life, had died too young, but had lived fully and joyously till the end. It was Annie who was going to have such enormous challenges to meet now, whose suddenly limited life was going to be so hard, who would never again be able to see a painting, or create one, when all her life she had lived for art. It was Annie who had been cheated out of her sight and was still so young. Their hearts ached for her, as much as for their mother.
They stayed with Annie for a long time that afternoon. They didn't want to leave her alone after they had told her the news about their mom. Sometimes they talked about it, sometimes they just sat in silence and held hands, sometimes they cried together, or laughed through their tears at a story one of them remembered and the others had forgotten. As close as they had been before, losing their mother had created an even stronger bond. They were four very different young women with a powerful love for each other and deep respect, which had been a gift to them above all from their mother, but from their father as well. They clung to him and each other, as the remaining powerful symbols of their damaged world.
It was seven o'clock when they finally left the hospital. Annie was exhausted, and so were they. They drove back to the house, talking about her, and found Chris chatting quietly with their dad. He said that at least a dozen people had come by, to check on them and pay their respects. It was such a strange time for all of them. Their mother had left such a huge hole in their lives, and their community, where for years she had been so loved and admired, as a wife, mother, friend, human being, and hard worker at many charities. She had been so much more to so many than just their mother or Jim's wife.
Tammy suggested they order Chinese takeout or sushi so Chris didn't have to cook again, but their father said he had something he wanted to do with them first. He looked sorrowful and shaken, as he had since Saturday, but determined. He asked them to follow him into the dining room. Chris knew what was happening, and hung back, not wanting to intrude. This was between them, a private moment in their family. It had startled him when Jim had told him what he was doing, after they went to the bank that afternoon. It seemed soon to him, but the older man had pointed out that it would be months before all his daughters would be home again at the same time. And he knew that this was what his wife would have wanted. It was early, but it was time. She had been generous with her husband, daughters, and friends all her life.
As the girls followed their father into the dining room, they were shocked at what they saw there. They hadn't been prepared for this, and he hadn't warned them. Tammy gave a little gasp of pain and took a step back. Sabrina covered her eyes for a moment with her hand. And Candy just stood there and started to cry.
“Oh Dad…” was all Tammy could say. She didn't want to face this yet. It hurt just looking at the familiar pieces, but it was now one of her many gifts to them, with their father's grace.
He had laid out all of her jewelry on the dining room table, in neat rows, the familiar rings and bracelets and earrings she had worn, the string of pearls from her own mother, the gifts he had given her over the years, for important birthdays, Christmas, major events, like their births. With his success in business, the gifts had grown over the years. They weren't important jewels, like some of what Tammy had seen in Hollywood, or Candy wore in fashion layouts for Vogue, or ads for Tiffany or Cartier. But they were lovely pieces that her mother had worn and loved. Each piece on the dining room table would remind them of their mother each time they wore them, although it felt a little like stealing them from her, raiding her jewel box while she was out, and having to explain it to her when she got back. They all still wanted to believe that she was coming back. Laying her jewelry out as he had was a way of acknowledging that she was gone forever, and they had to step into the world as adults now, with nothing to buffer them from what life had in store for them, good or bad. Suddenly, no matter what age they were, they were adults. They no longer had a mom. It felt much too grown-up.
“Dad, are you sure?” Sabrina asked with wide eyes full of tears. Tammy was crying softly too. This was hard.
“Yes, I am. I didn't want to wait till Thanksgiving when you'll all be home again. Annie isn't here, but she can't pick the pieces now anyway, and you know what she likes. You can pick for her, or make exchanges later if you want. I want you to take turns, one by one. Each of you pick something, then the next one takes a turn, by order of age, one turn each, until you divide it all up. Mom wanted you to have it. There's some very pretty stuff there. It belongs to you,” he said quietly, and then walked out of the room, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He was leaving it up to them, knowing they'd be fair. In addition, he had taken out her four fur coats, two minks, a fox, and a beautiful lynx he had bought her the Christmas before. Each one was draped across a dining room chair. It was a lot to absorb.