Last part's up. Thanks to everyone who has been reading!
All the world's a stage,
And the men and women merely players:
They have their exists and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Its acts being seven stages…
Act Seven
The curtains draw on a scene a full ten years later. Sara has reached her sixtieth year. Her hair has thinned and turned salt and pepper grey. Her face is lined and her lips thinned but she still possesses the beauty that we viewed in her as she blew out her candles as a little girl and as she filled her time in the library at high school; the beauty which made Gil fall in love with her. Her eyes are shining with a light which would never betray her age. Those eyes cloud over as she settles her gaze on a woman standing before her. She has blonde hair arranged delicately in a bun on the top of her head. Her dress is white silk, framing her slender figure.
"I wish your father could be here," Sara says to her daughter. "He would be so proud."
"He's watching us today, Mum, you know that?"
"I know, darling," Sara murmurs, and then focuses her full attention on Jenny. "You look so beautiful."
Jenny blushes and reaches behind her to pick up her veil. Carefully she passes it to her mother who in turn places it gently on her daughter's head.
She looks so beautiful, Sara thinks. But the delicate lace veil cannot hide the tears in her daughter's eyes.
IIII
Sara is opening her front door. Standing on the other side is a couple. One is her daughter, elegant as ever, and the other is her husband. They are both grinning.
"Jenny, Matthew!" Sara exclaims. "Come in!"
They do so.
"We have some news, Mum."
The broad smiles have already planted suspicions in Sara's mind but she plays along.
"What's that?"
"I'm pregnant!"
Sara may have expected the news but she still is blown away to hear it from her daughter's mouth. She throws her arms around her daughter and then her son-in-law.
"Oh God," she laughs. "That means I must be really old."
IIII
Sara is sitting in the corridor of a hospital looking nervous. She reaches up to fiddle with her hair but then remembers that she had it cut short. She felt too old to have hair long enough to tie up in a ponytail. She taps her fingers nervously on her knees.
"Mrs Grissom?"
She still starts when she hears her own name; even after all these years it sounds strange to her ears. The name Grissom takes her back to her youth; her time as a CSI in the Las Vegas Crime Lab with Warrick and Nick, both nearing retiring age now, Catherine and Greg. Ironically she did not refer to herself as Mrs Grissom until after Gil's death, as a way of keeping him alive. Before that she was always Ms Sidle. She pulls herself out of the chair and follows the receptionist through to a consultation room.
Sitting herself in front of her doctor, she takes a deep breath. "So?"
"I'm afraid we have bad news."
IIII
This scene looks similar to the last. Sara is sitting in another hospital corridor, with a door next to her. From behind the door come the yells of childbirth. This time Sara is equally as nervous but it is nervous excitement. A few minutes later, Matthew bursts out of the door.
"The head's out!"
"Oh my God," Sara murmurs. "I'm a grandma."
"Nearly," Matthew laughs before responding to an anguished cry from his wife inside the delivery room.
Just seconds later James Gilbert Grissom Morris enters the world.
IIII
"Someone said that every time a new life enters the world, someone else dies to equal it."
"Mum, where is this going?"
"Jenny, I don't want you to get upset."
"Mum, you're panicking me."
"I have cancer, Jen."
Jenny takes a deep breath. "What?"
"Lung cancer."
"But you've never smoked."
"These things happen. My mother died of cancer. It's in the family."
"No," Jenny chokes. "Not you. Not when we lost Dad too."
"I have to go some time."
"Mum- don't say that. Surely they can do something?"
"I'm too far gone, Jen." Tears start to flow from the blonde women's eyes. "Don't cry." But as she takes her daughter in her arms her own eyes start to fill up.
IIII
Sara has her grandson on her lap. He is three months old. She is thin and her face is drawn but she musters the energy to bounce little Jamie up and down on her knee. She picks up a photograph sitting on the desk beside her.
"This is your Grandpa, Jamie," she sighs wistfully. "He would have loved you."
Jamie gurgles.
"He would have taught you all about bugs. He knew a lot. I miss him."
Jamie gurgles again.
"But I'll see him again soon."
IIII
Sara is lying in a hospital room. On one side of the bed sits her daughter and son-in-law. On the other lies Jamie in a crib, fast asleep. There is a restful silence before someone knocks on the door. Wearily, Sara looks up. A man, aged in his sixties, walks through the door. Sara draws her breath, although she cannot breathe too deeply. "Greg?"
"Hi, Sara."
"I don't believe it. I-"
"How are you?"
"I've been better," she laughs.
"Hi, Jenny," Greg says, recognizing the woman he last saw when she was six years old. "And you must be Matthew. And baby James." He notes the looks on Sara and her family's faces. "I have my sources." He taps his nose.
"It's so good to see you," Sara says. She can feel her eyes filling up.
"You too."
"Jenny, could you give us some time?" she asks her daughter.
"Sure, Mum."
In the next two hours Sara is transported back forty years. She relives her first day and her investigation of Warrick. She remembers extraordinary cases. She recalls the slow progress of her and Grissom's relationship. She discusses the lab explosion. She is taken back to her wedding. She hears of Greg's successes before his own retirement. She laughs and she cries.
Eventually Greg stands up and leans over the bed to embrace his friend.
"Bye, Sara."
"Bye, Greg. And thank you."
As he leaves the room, both are aware they will never meet again.
IIII
Sara's body hurts more than she ever thought possible. Her breath is shallow and her joints are stiff. She just manages to clutch her daughter's hand.
"It's ok, Mum."
Her son-in-law and beloved grandson have just left the room.
"I love you so much, Jenny."
Sara cannot help but remember her own mother's death. So many other scenes flash through her mind. She can picture her mother with long silky dark hair and she can still smell the shampoo she used. She can still feel the hold of the social worker's hand as she led a young Sara out of her home. She can remember her foster parents, now long dead. She can recall the time she spent with Katie at Harvard as a young woman with so many hopes. She can recall the facts imparted to her at the lecture in which she met her future husband. She cherishes memories of her working life. She can feel the touch of her husband.
Lying on her death bed is a woman with such history. She has affected so many people and so many people have affected her. Two sets of parents have died before her. She has lost colleagues, friends and the one person she loved more than anyone in the world.
But now she is about to join him.
"Have a wonderful life."
"Shh, Mum."
"I mean it. Bring up Jamie well."
"I will."
A lump rises in Sara's throat.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Mum."
"I'll say hello to your father for you."
"You do that."
Jenny squeezes her mother's hand and feels the grip loosen and finally slacken altogether.
And so Sara Sidle leaves the world.
The curtains fall.
IIII
What is he buzzing in my ears?
"Now that I come to die,
Do I view the world as a vale of tears?"
Ah, reverend sir, not I!
Robert Browning
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
Sylvia Plath