“My daughter is here to help me move.”
When I heard that, I was glad that Ruth was eager to leave this dumpy apartment building and live in the retirement village a few blocks away.
I’m Ruth’s next door neighbor from across the hall. I’ve lived here for over ten years, and have come to know and appreciate her. She’s a feisty woman in her eighties, and physically healthy. Her mind wanders a lot, but her relaxed, quirky personality hasn’t changed. I do sense a sadness in Ruth, likely from living alone. I regularly check in on her, keep company, and help out where I can. I’m here now cause she’s leaving for the new place tonight.
She’s been talking about moving out ever since I met her, and last year finally made the decision. I hate to see her go, but it’ll be a good move.
Our building is old and dingy, with its heyday long gone. It’s getting run down and the neighborhood isn’t so great. Being on the second floor isn’t too bad, but the stairs are a burden to Ruth.
“I’m glad Renee is helping out,” I said. “But I thought the new place is sending people to help move you?”
“What’s that?” Ruth asked as she turned her head to better hear. “Oh, yes. They’ll be here next week to pack up my things and take them to my new home. But Renee is taking me personally to the new place. I’m so glad she is here. And she can help me pick through stuff I really need, and things I don’t. She’s pretty good at choosing only the bare essentials. I hope she packs the photo albums I really want.”
Turning to the bedroom, Ruth yells, “Renee, don’t forget to pack my albums.”
I haven’t met Renee yet, but am eager to finally have that chance. Ruth talks about Renee all the time and shows me her photos. She’s very proud of Renee. From the bedroom, I hear, “Yes Mom, I got it.”
“It’s a shame that Renee never married,” said Ruth. “She’s such a beautiful girl – talented, smart, and doesn’t take crap from anyone. Maybe that’s why. You know, she almost did once to a really nice guy. They were engaged but never tied the knot. She just left him you see. It broke his heart I think. Mine, too. I love weddings, by the way.”
Ruth coughed a bit and looked pale. “Excuse me,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling well lately. It’s this move. I can’t wait to go, but all this mess is catching up with me. I’ve been here for thirty years and I’ve accumulated a lot of junk. So much dust has been stirred up just by going through things. Most of these don’t matter anyway. They’re just stuff that accumulate. But my photos are the real treasure. I will not part with them. They’re the only things that tie me to my family.” She coughed again.
“Can I get you anything – water, iced tea?” I asked.
“You’re sweet, but I’m fine,” she said as she cleared her throat.
“Mom, come here and get dressed,” yelled Renee. “I’ve set out the one you want to wear.”
“Be right there,” yelled Ruth. She stood up to go to the bedroom. She turned to me and said, “Let me change and I’ll introduce you to Renee.”
Alone, I took a last look at the place. Everything was untidy due to the pending move. On the mantle above the fake fireplace were old framed photos of Ruth and her life – her husband, her son, both departed, and of course Renee. She is quite stunning and always with a broad smile. I met the brother before his death. Ruth’s husband was buried about ten years before I met her.
After half an hour, Ruth says, “We’re ready!”
Out of the bedroom carrying a small suitcase comes Renee. She’s beautiful and radiant, just like in the framed photos. “Hi, I’m Renee. So glad to finally meet you. Mom talks about you all the time. I can’t thank you enough for all the things you do to help Mom.”
“I’m glad to help,” I said. “I really like your mom. And, yeah, I’m glad to meet you as well. Ruth says you visit every so often, but I happen to just miss you.” Renee looked young, and I thought she’d be a little older.
Renee continued, “Well, I’ve got her albums and just some travel stuff all packed in here. I think she’s gonna love her new place. It’s time for her to go.”
Out of the bedroom steps Ruth. She’s dressed in an ivory wedding gown, now oversized due to age. Confused that it wasn’t travel clothes, I asked, “What are you wearing?” I looked over at Renee, and she gave me a sly wink.
“It’s my wedding dress,” said Ruth proudly. She was gleaming. “The only time I wore this was at my wedding. It doesn’t fit anymore, but you should have seen it – or me – on that day. I was magnificent. You like it?”
“Well yes,” I stammered. “But should you be wearing you wedding gown to the retirement village? Don’t you have something more comfortable to travel in?”
“I’m not going to the retirement village. I’m going home,” said Ruth.
“I don’t understand,” I said as I looked back and forth between her and Renee.
Renee explained, “That’s right. I’m taking Mom home to be with her family – Dad, Brother, and myself. It’s her time, and we’ve really missed her.”
I again stammered, “You’re doing what?”
Renee interrupted, “I died many years ago, right before my wedding. Mom had helped me plan nearly everything. But I died. Mom never got over that. It was a big blow to her and I don’t believe she ever recovered. I’m here to help her move on and join us. We’ve missed her so. She’s been alone long enough and it’s time for us to take care of her. You understand?”
I had no words to say, but just trying to comprehend what was going on.
The lights flickered and went off for a second. In that brief moment of darkness, I heard thuds. When the room was again lit, I saw Ruth lying on the floor, her face content, and wrapped in the folds of her wedding dress as if it were a warm blanket. Renee was gone. The luggage she held was on the floor, open and spilling its contents.
I ran to Ruth to check her. She was dead.
After calling for help, I looked at the albums and papers from the suitcase. They were mostly old photos of happier times. There was also a packet with ‘Renee’ written on it. Inside were mementos from her funeral, including condolences, service cards, and a tiara wreathed in dried flowers, probably the one she was to wear on her wedding.
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Dante P. Ramon 