A two-portrait day

I spent the morning with Maria, Cristina’s mother, my co-grandmother. Bella and Evan’s other grandma. I told her about my photographic project, pictures of women over 65. She had a look at my Pinterest boards, I hauled out my black sheet, and then we worked with the light coming through the window at my table. We had a great visit, non-stop talking about our main subject in common, those two beings.  We talked till Cristina joined us for lunch and then they dropped me off at Margie’s building.

Margie was tired today, but she pulled herself together and we went out for a walk and coffee. “I’m hanging on,” she said. And then slowly, one word at a time, added, “By. A. Thin. Thread." After a pause, "Tell me, do you ever hear from Helen?”

I told her, gently, sadly, that her sister Helen is no longer alive. Margie was shocked. Stricken. “When did she die?”

I said I wasn’t sure, but it was a pretty long time ago. I said if Helen were still alive, she would be…I had to count it out on my fingers, 105 years old. 

“Oh, well, of course she’s gone then. But how old am I?”

Ninety-eight. 

“Wow, that’s old. I guess I’ll be going soon. If I get wherever it is you go after you die, I’ll wave. Like this. And you’ll know I’m there.” (Extra.)

I said I would love that. 

“But I guess if anybody could do that, my brother Bernie would have waved to me. We were best buddies. I never saw him again after he died.” 

I said maybe he was waving and you couldn’t see him. She thought about it, smiling, and then decided,

“That could well be. He would have tried.”