Page 7 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘No, he didn’t say anything. It’s obvious that’s what you’re going to do, Mum. I’ve been telling you to leave him for years. He takes you for granted.’

‘I know, love. I know.’ I sighed. ‘I guess I should let you get back to your assignment. Love you.’

‘Love you too, Mum.’

***

I WENT FOR A TWENTY-minute stroll after my conversation with Rose. The surgeon had said it would take weeks, even months, for me to get back to my full strength. The winter sun warmed my face, and when I passed into the shadows of trees, the temperature dropped. A few people were out walking their dogs.

I took it slowly. My abdomen ached, even though I’d taken Panadeine. I would tire before I’d gone far. The doctor had told me to increase my level of exercise a bit at a time.

Personal concerns swamped my thoughts. I’d been trying to define the problems in my life more clearly and figure out how to fix them. They’d been piling up. Health issues leading to the hysterectomy from which I was now recovering. Stress from overwork and my dying marriage. Grief at my mother’s passing a year ago, which still hurt, even though my mother and I never got on. Empty nest syndrome since my daughter Rose had moved to Wellington in the summer to start university there.

Life was a challenge.

A mistiness like the one that had appeared in my kitchen formed in the shade of a weeping willow a few metres ahead, and I stopped short. I squinted into it, trying to make out anything within. Was my dead mother returning for another silent conversation?

I moved closer. The amorphous misty shape became more human-like, but still unidentifiable.

Was it my mother? Had she put on weight in the afterlife? Or was it a different ghost? I shivered as the brisk breeze gusted. It had no effect on the misty shape under the tree.

In a flash, the mist coalesced into my mother’s form. I wasn’t frightened this time. In a way, although she was dead, she seemed alive. As a child, I’d never gotten on well with her, but now that she was gone, I missed her. It was kind of comforting that she could pay a visit. The fact she couldn’t talk was a bonus.

She frowned at me. Was she annoyed? Was I supposed to have done something? How could I know what to do when I couldn’t understand her?

She opened her mouth again. This time, a low moan emerged.

I moved closer. ‘Are you in pain, Mum?’ Do ghosts feel pain? If so, I wasn’t in any hurry to get to the afterlife.

She shook her head. ‘Ruuuu...’

What was that she said? ‘Rue’? French for ‘street’? No, it surely wasn’t that.

‘You rue something? Is there something you regret, Mum?’ I’d read that people on their deathbeds always had regrets. That was sad, but it was worse if they carried their regrets into the afterlife with them. It wasn’t resting in peace if thoughts of things you hadn’t done, or that you had done but shouldn’t have, burdened your spirit after death.

She put her head in her hands in frustration. Not literally. As much as I liked to see my mother again, even as an apparition, I didn’t want to see her take her head off. She had raised her hands to her head as if to ward off an impending headache.

‘Do the charades again.’

She nodded, stretched her arms wide like last time and started flapping them like a bird.

‘Fly? You wish you’d flown somewhere, Mum? But you travelled a lot in your younger days, and you visited your sister in England a few times when you—’

I caught myself. Her sister Ruth. She means Aunt Ruth in England. ‘You wanted to see Aunt Ruth before you passed, Mum? Is that it?’

She shook her head and blew her cheeks out, frustration mounting.

‘I call her every month, Mum. I keep in touch with her. She’s doing fine.’

My mother’s ghost raised an arm, then vanished. A little white dog burst through where she had been a moment before and landed on my feet. The cute thing swivelled round to stare at the spot Mum’s ghost had been, but nothing was there now.

A man ran up. ‘Sorry about that. Bella’s a little frisky. I hope she didn’t give you a fright.’

‘No. No problem. You have a lovely dog.’

He walked ahead. The dog barked at the now-vacant space, then hurried off after her owner.

I continued in the other direction. In the next few days, I’d phone Aunt Ruth and find out how she was.

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