Authors: Sandi Perry
“Ma,
I’ll
take
you
home.
We’ll
see
to
the
arrangements
tomorrow,”
Allison
said
softly.
“We'll
do
it
first
thing,
your
grandfather
would
have
been
adamant
that
the
body
and
soul
be
laid
to
rest
immediately."
Her
mother's
voice
caught
on
the
last
word
and
Allison
panicked
that
her
mother
would
be
overcome
again
right
there
in
the
hospital
corridor.
She
had
a
hard
time
dealing
with
emotions—they
were
messy
and
made
you
do
unpredictable
things.
Her
mother
was
always
a
rock,
if
she
shattered
then
what
would
happen
to
her.
Allison
took
her
mother's
hand
in
hers
and
brought
it
to
her
lips.
"We'll
get
through
this—we'll
figure
it
all
out
together,"
she
said.
Her
mother
seemed
comforted
by
that
as
she
grasped
Allison's
hand
strongly.
"Thank
you
sweetheart,
I'm
so
lucky
to
have
a
daughter
like
you."
They
walked
down
the
long
hallway
arm
in
arm,
leaning
on
each
other
for
support.
They
made
the
phone
calls
and
arrangements
early
the
next
morning,
and
by
five
that
afternoon
Allison,
her
mother,
Jeremy,
and
Uncle
Martin
all
arrived
back
at
the
house
after
the
burial.
The
service
had
been
well
attended,
but
only
the
closest
few
joined
them
at
the
gravesite
out
on
Long
Island.
Allison
noticed
her
Uncle's
weary
eyes
as
he
asked
her
which
room
they
would
be
using
for
the
Shiva.
"I,
um,
Ma?"
she
looked
over
at
her
mother
who
was
hanging
up
her
raincoat
in
the
front
hall
closet.
She
saw
the
fatigued
set
of
her
mother's
shoulders
and
turned
back
to
Martin.
"We'll
set
up
in
the
living
room,
it's
spacious
enough
if
everyone
comes
at
the
same
time,
which
is
what
usually
happens..."
her
voice
trailed
off
as
some
unwanted
memories
flashed
at
her.
“Ma,
I’m
only
staying
tonight,”
Allison
whispered
as
she
settled
herself
onto
the
low
seat
a
short
time
later.
She
kept
her
gaze
firmly
on
the
black,
grand
piano,
afraid
to
meet
her
mother's
eyes.
“What
does
that
mean?"
her
mother
asked
as
she
adjusted
her
midnight
blue
cashmere
sweater
over
her
shoulders.
"Shiva
is
seven
days.
People
will
be
coming
by
to
offer
their
condolences
and
tell
you
stories
about
your
father.”
“I
already
know
all
the
stories.”
“Don't
be
hasty
in
your
decision,
sweetheart.
We’ll
have
time
to
discuss
this
a
bit
later.”
She
smoothed
Allison's
hair
lovingly
and
turned
her
attention
over
to
the
visitors.
Much
later
that
night
after
everyone
had
left,
her
mother
turned
to
her
as
she
walked
up
to
her
bedroom.
“Allison,
I
think
you
will
regret
it
if
you
leave.”
“I
know
you
feel
that
way,
but
you
won’t
be
alone.
Aunt
Carol
flew
in
from
California
for
you.”
“I’m
not
asking
you
to
stay
for
me,
although
being
surrounded
by
family
at
a
time
like
this
is
comforting.
This
will
go
a
long
way
toward
your
healing.
Many
people
who
knew
your
father
from
years
ago
will
come
by.
They
will
each
remember
him
in
a
different
way.
It's
therapeutic
and
starts
the
grieving
process,”
her
mother
said.
“I
remember
very
clearly
what
Shiva
is
all
about,”
Allison
said
a
little
more
sharply
than
she
had
intended.
“You’re
not
that
little
girl
anymore
cowering
in
the
back
of
the
room.
You
need
to
deal
with
this
head-on.”
Vivienne
Ross
kissed
her
strong-willed
daughter
on
the
forehead.
“At
least
think
it
through
again,
please.”
Allison
nodded
and
closed
her
eyes
against
the
grief
that
threatened
to
overwhelm
her,
a
grief
that
had
nothing
to
do
with
her
father.
She
gathered
herself
a
minute
later
and
headed
down
to
the
kitchen
where
Aunt
Carol
was
organizing
the
fridge.
Allison
had
always
marveled
at
the
fact
that
Carol
and
her
mother
were
sisters.
They
shared
the
same
'organizing
gene,'
but
their
lifestyles,
politics,
even
their
looks
were
total
opposites.
Her
mother
was
tall
and
elegant,
always
gracious
and
poised.
Her
aunt
was
shorter
with
a
mass
of
dark
curls
springing
up
of
their
own
volition
all
over
her
head.
She
didn't
know
if
Carol
ended
up
moving
to
Venice
Beach
because
she
was
so
chilled,
or
if
she
became
that
way
after
living
in
an
artist's
community
for
many
years.
Whichever
it
was,
she
loved
the
way
her
mother
changed
and
relaxed
more
whenever
her
sister
was
around.