Mom and Dad stood in the kitchen, talking in a low whisper.  Normally I was allowed to stay up late on Friday, but I was sent to bed early.  I hadn't done anything wrong.  Mom was doing the dishes and Dad was leaning against the fridge, drinking a beer.  He always drank Schlitz.  Dad had just hung up the phone a few minutes earlier.  It was something about Nana.  I knew she was sick with cancer in her stomach.   I heard Dad say something about seeing Nana for the last time.  It took me a while to fall asleep.

I woke up the next morning and went into the living room to watch cartoons.  Tom and Jerry was coming on.  I always hated that Jerry won.  Jerry was kind of a jerk.  Mom told me to get ready.  We were going to the hospital.  I wanted to complain, but the look on her face said shut up and get ready.  We picked up some flowers.  Yellow roses.  They smelled like her garden.  Dad let me hold them in the elevator. 

I learned what a snapdragon was from Nana.  She had tortoises.  We fed them huge lettuce leaves.  It could take all afternoon for one of those little guys to eat one leaf.  She also had two cats that followed her around.  Irving and Snickle Fritz.  She had another one named Josie, but I never saw her.  She hid under the bed in the spare room.

When we got to Nana's room, I hardly recognized her.  She was so thin.  Her hair looked dry and I thought it was a wig.  Did Nana know that she was dying and we were all watching her?  I knew.  I wanted to tell her.  You weren’t supposed to talk about things like that around the person that’s dying.

When the nurse moved her, Nana's gown flapped open.  My eyes worked up her body, starting at her spidery legs.  I could see her hipbones and her private parts.  It made me feel ashamed.  I didn't want to see Nana like that.  Dad covered her up.  He started crying and Nana patted the top of his head.

We left.  I wanted to stay longer.  Mom, Dad and Pops took me downstairs to the cafeteria.  I was the only one that ordered something to eat.  Everybody watched me carry my tray to the table.

"Don't spill it." Pops snarled at me. 

"She won't." Dad said in my defense.

"Look at all the salt she's using.  Don't salt your meat loaf." Pops snapped his fingers at me.  His face was red.

I started to cry.  Dad put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go ahead and eat my dinner.  I could only hear the whooshing of my heartbeat in my ears.  I took another bite of meat loaf.  The only taste in my mouth was salt.  I couldn't swallow.  It wouldn’t be able to get past the hot lump already stuck in my throat.  I had a hard time loving Pops when he was like that. 

That night I was afraid that Nana was going to die.  It was past bedtime.  The phone rang and I heard Dad pick it up and start crying.  I walked into their bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching Mom hold Dad.  I don’t remember exactly what Mom said, but she didn’t say anything about dying.  She called it passing on.  Nobody said the word dead after that.

After the funeral, we came back to our house.  I went to my room and closed the door behind me.  From my pocket, I pulled out the one thing I took from the funeral.  I imagined Nana would have wanted me to have it.  I thought it would somehow protect me from anything bad.  It was a small white statue I thought was made of marble.  I took it from an arrangement of flowers sitting on a table at the funeral home.  Nobody saw me take it.  I didn't really know who the statue lady was.  I used to get the Virgin Mary mixed up with Mary Magdalene sometimes.  Both their names were Mary.  Whenever anybody spoke about Mary, I'd shut up because I wasn’t sure which was which.  The statue was one of the Mary’s and maybe it held just a tiny bit of my Nana's soul in it.  I hoped that if I could pray just right, she could speak to me.  I didn't quite know how to pray since we never did that.  I knew I should kneel and put the palms of my hands together and try to be pure and humble.  I looked at the statue for a long time. Mary just looked back at me with empty eyes.  She didn’t say anything.  I wanted to hear the gentle voice of my Nana.  I grasped my hand around Mary’s waist.  She felt cold and smooth.  I threw her in the garbage can and put some paper on top of her.  I didn't care if God was going to punish me.  It didn't feel right for Mary's eyes to look so dead. 

I thought the young and innocent were supposed to be safe from Satan.  Maybe I was wrong.  I didn't want to mess with this God stuff.  It seemed the more you think about God, the more the devil is on your heels. 

I'm sorry if I threw away a part of your soul Nana.  I didn't mean to.