February, 14th
Margaret:
The positive impact of the pills on my mother's mood are worth all the trouble. I try not to dwell on my bad conscience but there's a bitter taste in my mouth. What I did was against the law and I may put Bessy, or myself, or God forbid, my father or brother, in trouble.
I wish there had been other options available, but then again, I did what I felt was the right thing to do.
I wonder if the right thing to do will ever feel like a pleasant thing.
Frederick:
I am spending the next six days in Milton. After discussing strategy with Dolores and my in laws, and talking to my boss, I managed to clear some days form meetings and site visits. My laptop is with me so I'll be able to log some work when things are quiet.
Richard:
Maria is doing well. She's is good mood and has slept better the past days. It's a miracle. She has a removable cast on her right foot and barely gets up from the bed or the sofa, but other than that she's fine.
In spite of my outward appearance of calmness I am terrified by the hereafter with my wife gone. This is why I dismissed most of my students, because I cannot imagine myself going on with the same life without her.
Fortunately John said he didn't mind missing some lessons, so we'll pick up where we left off... whenever that happens.
Maria:
I am fainting. I can barely breathe, barely swallow, barely speak, barely live anymore. My heart stops and I jump in joy for being finally released from so much suffering into the arms of my Creator.
I am free.
Free at last.
February, 15th
Bertha:
My good friend Maria, whom I've known for more than six decades, is dead. My life will be lonelier and sadder, but now it's not the time to think about myself.
By her request there will be no funeral or visitation; her body will be cremated and the ashes will be buried later in the family grave in Oxford. She asked for a memorial service to be held a month later, probably in Milton or London. They called me when they realized she was dead to say my last goodbyes, and Margaret insisted they left me alone with her for a few minutes. I just stroked her hair, kissed her forehead and felt happy she's not in pain anymore.
Later a doctor came in to sign the death certificate and check there was no evidence of foul play. And when he left two men took my friend's physical remains, stuffed it into a plastic bag and tossed it in the back of a van. Margaret knew beforehand or understood quickly and took her menfolk to other room to save them from the macabre spectacle, and after mutely asking me for my consent left me to supervise they didn't take anything else.
I stayed with them until dinner, and joined forces with Margaret to feed the men scrambled eggs and fruit. Frederick shut himself in his mother's room and cried so loud and with so much desperation that Margaret offered him a tranquilizer, which fortunately he accepted. Richard also sobbed on Margaret's shoulder, all the while she maintained her composure.
Today I meet them at their home. We came in a car of Mr. Thornton's company but I thought (and Margaret agreed) that it was disrespectful of him not to drive it himself.
It's 4.00 PM and we're leaving Milton's cemetery cremation room. Only a handful of people came to pay their respects: it's Tuesday and it's cold and rainy. Maria's sister and niece, some old friends from Oxford, some of the private students of Richard and this friend of Margaret, Elizabeth.
I don't know if Margaret, Richard and Frederick have seen the people who came but I'd say no. They all stayed outside and I made them leave before the family started to come out the room. Mr. Thornton asked how they were, and I said the truth: that Frederick and Richard were devastated but Margaret bore it up better than likely. He said he might pay a visit on Thursday and left. Anna and Edith were the first to leave, and a minute later Margaret came out with a weakened Richard, his arm over her shoulders. Frederick stepped out right behind them.
Notes: I am particularly unspecific regarding Mrs. Hale's disease because I truly don't want to make this story sadder than it already is. I hope you don't find my vagueness disrespectful of your own experiences.