The time comes

My mother's life-long friend has declined into dementia.  She was fine until she had hip replacement surgery.  Since that she has just faded away.  I always liked her.  She had such a fund of stories and lore, vivacious and always a pleasure to be around.  My mother has known her since they were children, both early boomers, and now.... When my mother called her the other day she thought she was her daughter.  It seemed like she did not remember my mother at all, but then suddenly she asked when she was coming to pick her up because they were late for some play that they had gone together to see at the Pasadena Playhouse in the 1970s.  Then she lapsed into mumbling and after a few  minutes my mother told her good-bye.  There was a certain finality in the way she said it.

After she hung up, my mother said that she always talked to her as much as she could whenever she could because she knew some day they would not be able to.  One or the other would have this happen to them, or simply pass away.  And this day was the day.  Her friend was gone.  Alive in body for some while longer, but gone.  Then she looked at me and said, "Always talk to me.  It doesn't matter about what, just let us be together.  One day, one day soon, will be the last time we ever do, and we don't know when that will be.  I will miss not talking to you so much when I am gone."  Tears welled up in my eyes and felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, yet I was at a loss for words. I wanted to talk, to say what I felt to her, but I could not.