Sunrise to Sunset

Sunrise to Sunset Part 3

About a year ago, my mom came over to see me at my apartment in Astoria, New York. I offered her some chamomile tea or Manzanilla as she called it.

The first thing she said after taking a sip of the tea was, "Why don't you go visit your sister, Clarissa? I think she's lonely all by herself."

I'd heard this before, and as always started to get uncomfortable. I adjusted the pleather belt I was wearing around my waist.

She noticed the look of distaste on my face, so she touched my hand as she said, "At least, you date. Clarissa hasn't been seeing anyone since she got divorced three years ago!"

I changed the subject, and we sat talking about other trivial things.

Then she turned to me with a serious look on her face that made me almost swallow the warm liquid down the wrong tube, before continuing, "I'm going to do a pre-arrangement for my funeral."

I stared at her for a moment.

"What? Why?"

She stretched her right arm and folded her fingers carefully around the handle of the cup. As she held it in mid-air, she explained, "Well, it's something I've been thinking about for a while now. Es lo major."

I didn't know what to say.

I gave her one of my "Is that really it, ma?" looks.

She took a small sip from the floral patterned cup before placing it next to mine. "Well, I have been thinking about it for some time now. I just don't want to be a burden to anyone. And let's face it, you and your sister don't always see eye to eye."

Well that's the world's biggest understatement.

"The last thing I want to worry about is more turmoil, in this family, hija."

"Ma, come on, you don't have to worry about that." But it was no use. I knew she was right.

"Maybe, it's my fault you two don't get along. Maybe if you had grown up together, it would have turned out different, I don't know." She touched the soft wrinkles in-between her brows, in thought.

"You don't know that, ma."

"It just would have been too difficult to raise two girls as a single mother, and your grandmother offered to help."

She paused.

"I just want to make it a little easier for the both of you down the road. Por favor, Diana." She took another sip.

"I figure, if I do this now then when the time comes it'll all be taken care of."

As I sat there listening, I grabbed my cup and took a sip before asking, "Does Clarissa know, ma?"

"Yes. Ella sabe."

I nodded my head and said, "Okay."

I try to clear my head, as I sit in the front row of one of the many grey fold-out metal chairs that decorate the funeral home, staring at the gold-rimmed clock on the wall, I hear the faint click. I think of a heart beating. The chairs face the mahogany casket in which she lays, a brass crucifix adorns the cushioned velvet interior of the half-couch. She is dressed in her favorite sky blue satin dress, her hands neatly resting at her chest clutching herself and white pearl-like rosary beads that wrap around as if in prayer.

My fingers begin to tap on the softness of my black midi skirt that hugs my thighs like a viper's death grip. I am unable to halt the perspiration that slowly creeps from my temples.