Death is one of the most difficult realities for human beings to confront.
From an early age, Addison began to be aware of the famous cycle of life. She experienced the passage of time firsthand, one that cannot be stopped or reversed. One that doesn't wait. One that just keeps moving forward relentlessly.
She recognized time in the changing seasons. Every time she walked through her garden, she saw how the trees changed to a warm color and lost their leaves in the fall, only to bloom again once the white blanket of winter melted away in spring.
She began to notice how her last summer's shoes had become too small for her feet, or how her favorite pants had turned into shorts, or how her shirt no longer entirely covered her belly. She noticed how it was getting easier to reach the items in the pantry, how climbing the stairs no longer exhausted her as much, or how the pool in her garden began to be less deep each year.
She saw how her baby teeth fell out, and that space between her front teeth vanished when her permanent teeth came in. She also saw how her hair grew darker as she aged, and those baby curls disappeared.
But not only did Addison notice the effects of the passage of time on herself but on her whole family. Her baby cousin James, who was born last spring, one day started walking, and the next, talking. Her second cousin Anne, who used to play with her in the garden, one day left to start college and has never been the same since.
She observed the elderly with curiosity, noticing the wrinkles that adorned their faces and the glistening whiteness of their hair. Their hands, marked by time, were a silent testimony of the long journey they had traveled. Intrigued by what her innocent eyes saw, she did not hesitate to inundate her grandparents with questions filled with childish wit. Why couldn't they run like before? Why did Grandma need dentures? Why did some of her friends no longer have grandparents? Why wouldn't aunt Agnes be present at future Christmases?
"People age, Addison. It's impolite to talk or ask them about it," Bizzy told her that day.
"Why?" the four-year-old girl asked, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.
"Because nobody wants to hear your comments about how they have aged. They are aware of it. Your grandfather knows he has more wrinkles than last year, just as your grandmother knows she has gray hair. It's what happens when you age. When you get older. It's the cycle of life, it happens to all of us."
"Even you?"
"Of course, dear. To everyone, even you."
It would happen to everyone, everyone would age. That was okay. Aging wasn't so bad. Wrinkles? Gray hair? Dentures and pills? Reduced fat, sodium, and sugar intake? It wasn't so terrible. The real problem was that, in the simplified cycle of life taught in elementary school, the next step was death.
And Addison experienced it for the first time with her grandfather Joseph, at age six. The 82-year-old man had died suddenly of a heart attack, and that was the first time she had to dress in black.
"Is Grandpa not coming back? Where did he go?" she asked Archer after the wake.
"He died Addison."
"Why?"
"He was very old. His heart stopped."
"But why?" The little girl couldn't understand why someone she loved so much had to leave in that way.
"Because that's how life works. People die when they're old. We're not eternal."
The harsh truth was etched in her heart: we are not eternal. People, as they age, leave this world, they die. That was the last stop in the cycle.
From that day on, she understood that aging and death were inevitable travel companions. Despite her young age, she understood that both were stages that were part of human existence and that she had to accept them no matter how painful they were.
She understood that one day she would be an adult, and as she took another step in the cycle, her parents would too. Her parents would age like her grandparents, and someday, they would also die. Someday she would have to say goodbye to her parents forever.
As a doctor, witnessing death was something that was part of her day to day. Over the years, she had seen many patients pass away, some peacefully, others with struggle and pain. She had become accustomed to accompanying people and their families in these difficult moments, providing them with support and comfort. Death had become a constant presence in her life, and although she never stopped feeling sad about the loss of a human being, she had learned to accept it as a natural process.
She learned to make friends with the idea of death, not coldly and indifferently, but with the understanding that it was an inevitable and natural fact. It would happen to all people –including herself and her family– sooner or later. That was okay. She was prepared for it.
The problem was that no one had prepared her for the day, at forty-three years old, that she found her mother lying unconscious on the bed of a five-star hotel in Los Angeles, because she had decided to end her own life by ingesting a whole bottle of Zolpidem. After all, she didn't want to live in a world without her recently deceased wife Susan, whom Addison had not been able to save.
"No, Mommy… No..." she murmured through tears, embracing her mother's body tightly, as if that could bring her back to life.
But it couldn't. It couldn't, and that was the most frustrating part. To have been aware throughout her whole life that this moment would come and yet, not have been prepared. Not being able to say goodbye to her. All she had was a note on the nightstand, with Bizzy's initials stamped in a monogram with golden strokes, which said:
"Dear Addison, the necklace is for you. The money is for housekeeping. Apologize to them for the inconvenience. And when people ask, tell them I died in my sleep. The truth is too embarrassing. B."
But that wasn't even a farewell.
~•~
"I can come with you," Sam said the next day, standing near the runway at Los Angeles airport.
"There's no need," Addison replied, avoiding eye contact.
"No. I should come with you. I'll cancel all my patients."
"No, there's no need. I'm fine. I can handle it."
"This is too stressful for you."
"Bizzy had an aneurysm, she died in her sleep. I'm a doctor. Patients die all the time. I can handle it."
"This isn't some patient. This is your mother's funeral."
"Those bags aren't going to load themselves!" Addison exclaimed in a firm and authoritative tone, completely ignoring what Sam was saying about accompanying her to Connecticut.
He looked at her surprised. She didn't used to talk to her parents' employees like that. She always used to be kind and caring, but now she was acting strangely. Much more eerie, more cold, more... snobbish. It was as if she were a robot programmed to show no emotion.
The night before, she had returned home around two or three in the morning, with a package of imported coffee in her hands, a folded piece of paper, and an extravagant diamond necklace around her neck that Sam could have sworn he hadn't seen before.
"I thought you were going to stay the night with Bizzy," he had said, surprised that his girlfriend had returned from the hotel in the early hours.
He had suggested that she let her mother rest in peace for the night, and stop apologizing for what had happened because it wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault that Susan had passed away. It wasn't her fault that she had respected her patient's final decision. She hadn't been responsible for her mother's anger and didn't deserve to be treated badly by her.
But Addison had decided to go anyway. That afternoon at the hotel had been the first time in many years that Bizzy had hugged her and thanked her for her company. She had even been excited to share breakfast with her.
She didn't want to leave her alone that night, it didn't feel right going back to her house and leaving her alone in her grief. She knew perfectly well what it was like to lose the love of your life. She had experienced it a few years ago, when she had lost Derek, and the pain at night seemed to consume her from the inside. Even though he hadn't died, their marriage had. His love for her had died. And the feeling of loss, desperation, and loneliness had also arisen in Addison. She would have liked to have her mother at that moment to comfort her with a hug or a word of love, so she decided to go back to the hotel to provide the company and support that she had not had.
"What happened?" Sam had quickly gotten out of bed to follow her when he hadn't received a response from her. She had left the things she had brought on her bedside table and had walked straight to her closet.
Addison had started to slide the hangers quickly, with precise and almost automatic movements. Her hands were desperately searching among the multitude of dresses hanging there, eager to find that black dress she wanted. It was as if just finding it connected her to a sense of control and soothed the whirlwinds of emotions that were bubbling inside her.
"What are you doing?" he had asked her when he saw that she was stressed out because she couldn't find the dress she was looking for. She wanted a classic black dress with a round neckline, and long sleeves that reached just above the knee which she had bought a few months ago, not imagining that she would wear it to her mother's funeral.
"Bizzy died. I need a black dress."
"What are you saying? What do you mean Bizzy died? I don't understand."
"She died."
"How? You're not being clear, Addison."
She had looked at him, finally stopping in her effort to find the dress. Her eyes were empty as if life had gone out of her. She had a mixture of tiredness and sadness overflowing from her body.
"Oh..." he whispered. "I... I'm so sorry, Addie. How? I mean... how did it happen?"
"I don't have time for this. I have to fly to Connecticut in a few hours," was her response.
Even though her eyes were red, she hadn't shed a single tear all night. She hadn't stopped to rest and hadn't wanted to keep talking to him until the next morning. She had just packed her bags in silence and headed to the airport early.
"I'll be back in a week," she told Sam before putting on some dark sunglasses and boarding her family's private jet.
~•~
Addison couldn't remember the last time she had been to Connecticut. When she lived in New York, it was much easier to come and go from time to time. But since her divorce from Derek, she hadn't returned. Partly because of the physical distance between states and her limited availability as a doctor, and partly because she knew her parents were disappointed with her for getting a divorce. It was very hypocritical of them, given that the only thing that had held their marriage together for the last few years had been a lie.
When Addison learned the truth about her parents' relationship, she swore to never set foot in her childhood home again. However, her mother's death forced her to return after more than six years.
The mansion stood majestic, surrounded by a snowy landscape that framed its imposing figure. The bare branches of the trees swayed gently to the rhythm of the cold wind, and the air was filled with a cold that seeped into the bones.
In Connecticut, winter has always been colder than in other places. As she approached the main entrance, memories flooded her. The crunch of snow under her feet echoed in the silence, creating an atmosphere of melancholy and sadness.
When she finally reached the front door, she hesitated before ringing the bell. The sound echoed inside the mansion, and the echo was lost in the vastness of the empty corridors.
The door opened slowly, and the somber face of the Captain greeted her.
"Oh, Kitten, you're here..." he said as soon as he saw her. He looked tired, with a lost look in his eyes.
Addison managed to muster a weak smile as she took off her coat and entered the house. The atmosphere was icy, not just because of the temperature, but because of the absence of life and warmth. She felt overwhelmed by the feeling of emptiness that surrounded her.
She walked through familiar corridors, sadly observing the family portraits hanging on the walls. The antique furniture and elegantly embroidered tapestries reminded her of a time when the house was full of life and joy. Now, everything seemed dead.
"So...is it true? Did Bizzy die?" her father asked in a hushed voice. Of course, he knew it was true; he had spoken to the police, but he needed his daughter to confirm it for him, again.
"It's true," she replied.
He nodded and walked to a liquor cabinet, pouring himself some Scotch whiskey into a small glass, and drank it. She watched him in silence.
"Oh, I forgot to offer you some. Do you want a drink?" he asked, raising his glass.
"Please," she replied.
"The house has been closed since Bizzy left...we don't have staff."
"That's okay."
"Scotch?"
"Scotch."
The Captain poured her another glass and handed it to her. She drank it quickly, not even stopping to savor the taste.
"How was it?" her father asked.
"I told you on the phone, she was sleeping..."
"But how was it? How did you realize it? Did she show any symptoms the day before?"
"No. I don't know."
"Did you demand an autopsy?"
"A doctor from St. Ambrose examined her when the ambulance came to the hotel, I told you."
"Did they do a CT scan? An MRI? How do they know it was that and not something else? I want to see her scans."
"It doesn't make sense for you to keep insisting on this, Captain. Seeing those scans won't bring Bizzy back."
"I'm a neurosurgeon, I should've noticed, damn it..." he muttered, his voice breaking.
"It's not your fault."
"Of course it's not, it's the ineptitude of all your colleagues. They should have their medical licenses revoked; in one week, they killed two sixty-year-old ladies," Archer said, appearing at the kitchen door. He had also arrived a few hours ago.
Addison took a deep breath and chose not to respond. She knew it was pointless to do so with two people who were still in the stage of denial. And she couldn't blame them; she wasn't being completely honest with them either. The truth is too embarrassing.
"And now what?" Archer asked after a while in silence.
"The body is being transported to Connecticut, the burial will be tomorrow," Addison replied, taking a sip of whiskey. It was already the third shot she had drunk since she arrived. Being sober in that house was never an option.
"I mean...what do we do now? We're semi-orphans."
"We're not kids."
"We should take advantage of this. Women feel sorry for men without mothers, do you think a pity speech will work on any of them? Oh, you don't know, babe, Mom used to bake her delicious cinnamon bread for me every morning and now that she's gone, I never have it for breakfast again. Is she kneading with the clouds? When I look up at the sky, I can't help but think of her. It reminds me of when I was a child and we used to look for shapes in the clouds together. Oh, Mommy was so fun, she..."
"Can you shut up? Idiot."
"Oh, come on, Addison. Laugh. Bizzy must be screaming at the gardener of hell right now because her throne of thorns isn't perfectly trimmed."
"It's not funny."
"Is there enough alcohol in the house? People will start arriving in a few hours," the Captain asked, looking at the wooden clock on the wall. It was already two in the afternoon.
"I'll take care of it," Addison said, leaving the room.
~•~
The Montgomery's house was filled with people that afternoon. The sad news had made her the host of a crowd that came to share their love for Bizzy. The absence of staff forced her to take on the role of gatekeeper, welcoming each person with a smile on her face, despite the pain in her heart.
Neighbors, colleagues, relatives, friends, and acquaintances of Bizzy came to offer their condolences to Addison. The pile of flowers and cards accumulated at the entrance of her home constantly reminded her of the loss she had just suffered. Each message of sympathy and support was received with gratitude and a vacant look. Words of comfort were repeated again and again, becoming a monotonous murmur that slowly faded into the background of her mind.
"I'm so sorry, dear. Bizzy was a great person," said a member of the Garden Club with tears in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Addison. May she rest in peace," murmured a colleague of the Captain with a voice broken by emotion.
"My condolences to the whole family, Addison," said a neighbor.
"I'm sorry, Addison. May God have her in glory," expressed a close friend with a comforting hug.
"I'm sorry," "I'm so sorry," "My condolences," "May she rest in peace."
The words were repeated over and over, a succession of cliches that slowly lost their meaning as time passed. The sadness and pain still hung in the air, but Addison had become numb to the empty phrases that continued to reach her ears. That's what happens when you hear the sound of a word too many times, it begins to lose its meaning.
The Captain continued to offer drinks to all the guests, never letting his own glass stay empty. Archer came and went, conversing with the guests without showing any emotion.
She knew him. She knew that deep down he was suffering, but was unable to show it publicly. She couldn't blame him, they had been raised by a mother who prohibited them from crying or expressing feelings in public, and as the obedient son that he was, he was following her orders. And so was she. Some people broke down in tears in front of her, and she just smiled out of obligation. She couldn't do more than that. It was as if her own feelings were blocked that day.
The doorbell rang again, and as she had done several times before, she went to answer it. But this time it wasn't a family member or neighbor, it was her practice partners. Naomi, Charlotte, Cooper, Pete, and Amelia, were all shivering in the cold under the falling snow.
"Hello. Thank you for coming," she said, with no facial expression. Internally, she was truly surprised that her friends from Los Angeles had traveled seven hours by plane just to attend her mother's funeral, whom they had barely known.
"We didn't mean to ambush you or anything…," said Naomi timidly.
"We wanted to be here," Charlotte added at the same time.
"Of course. How lovely. Won't you come in for a drink?"
Everyone nodded somewhat uncomfortably and followed the hostess into the living room.
"A few of Bizzy's friends stopped by to pay their respects," Addison said, approaching her father.
"Which means gossip and drink our booze. Hi, it's good to see you all. Thank you for coming."
"Of course," Amelia said.
Amelia had been there before. When Addison and Derek were dating, they had taken her a couple of times to meet the horses in the stable. There was a time when she was obsessed with unicorns, and Addison's horses were the closest she would ever come to seeing one.
They spent lovely summer afternoons there or by the pool. Of course, she knew the Captain and Bizzy. Not going to her funeral was not an option.
"Oh... is Violet...?" the Captain asked, noticing her absence.
"Uh, not here," Pete quickly said, "She had an emergency at work."
"Shame."
"Sends her best..."
"Addie, Sam asked me to let you know he wasn't going to be able to travel today..." Amelia murmured, softly approaching her.
"Oh, it's okay," of course it wasn't okay. Her heart squeezed a bit to see that all her colleagues had come except for her boyfriend, "I told him he didn't need to come..."
"A patient from St. Ambrose arrived an hour before our flight, he needed a coronary bypass and the other cardiothoracic surgeons were in another surgery. He told me to let you know that he's sorry and that he'll come here as soon as he's free."
"He doesn't need to come. It's okay."
"By the way, I also wanna tell you that..."
"Well, if it isn't the entire cast of the Tanned and the Beautiful. God, I miss California," Archer exclaimed, appearing behind everyone, "Hello, beautiful," he said indiscreetly approaching Naomi. Addison pressed her lips with annoyance and stepped back a few steps. Couldn't her brother behave at least once in his life?
"Hello, Archer," Naomi replied, turning her face to the side to avoid his kiss. She was somewhat uncomfortable with the situation.
"My mother died. Be nice."
"Given that the last time I saw you, you climbed out of my bed and disappeared?"
"Bygones. Dead mother," he excused himself. Come on, give me something.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"We should probably get back to the hotel...," Pete murmured.
"Oh no. We have plenty of rooms here."
"No, no. Archer, that's not necessary," Naomi said.
"No, I'm grieving. It's decided. You're all staying."
"I don't mean to be rude," Addison said, interrupting her brother with the same poker face she had had all day, "but we have a meeting with the funeral director."
"Go ahead, we can take care of ourselves...," Naomi said, thankful that Addison had gotten her brother off her back.
"You'll have to pour your own drinks. The house has been closed since Bizzy left..." the Captain said, somewhat embarrassed.
All the guests nodded and the Montgomerys left the room in silence.
"Pour our own drinks? Shame," Cooper murmured ironically. Naomi had warned them on the way that Addison's family was somewhat shallow and creepy, but they had never imagined they would be like this. Truly, it was a miracle that she hadn't turned out like them after all.
~•~
"...In lieu of flowers, Mrs. Montgomery stated that donations could be made in her name to the City Ballet or the Garden Club," said Nelson, the funeral director. They were gathered in the Captain's office.
"Oh, I'm bored," complained Archer, interrupting in his usual vulgar and petulant manner. "Is there a reason I have to be here for this?"
Addison looked at him with a displeased expression.
"Yes, the reason being that our mother is dead and you are part of this family," she said.
"I've spoken to a lot of her friends but I may have missed some..." the Captain said, ignoring his eldest son. "I'm not sure where Bizzy's address book is."
"Not to worry," Nelson replied, "Mrs. Montgomery met with me every year to update the contact information of the people she wanted to invite."
"God forbid the wrong sort show up," scoffed Archer.
"Well, to be clear, she wanted a public memorial service with a reception to follow at the house. The interment is just for family and close friends the following morning."
"Well, sounds like Bizzy thought of everything," Archer laughed, but no one in the room found it amusing.
"One last thing. Mrs. Montgomery requested there be one eulogy."
"I'd be happy to do it," said the Captain.
"Actually, sir, she asked that Addison do it."
Addison opened her eyes in surprise. Had she heard correctly? Did Bizzy ask for her to give the eulogy? Why had she done that? Did she want to continue tormenting her from beyond?
"Ha!" exclaimed Archer.
~•~
When the meeting ended, Addison left the room still feeling dazed. The funeral home director had informed her that the casket with her mother's body had arrived and was in storage, ready to be placed in the chapel the following day for the funeral mass.
She was surprised by the insensitivity with which the man told her as if he were talking about a shoebox that had arrived at the post office and would soon be sent to her home. Did she sound just as frivolous when she informed her patients' families that their loved one had died?
Nelson had also given her an urn with Susan's ashes, and not wanting to neglect the people, she quickly went up to her room and left it on her desk. She didn't know where ashes should be kept. Susan had no close family. She had no siblings, cousins, or children. Her whole family was Bizzy and the Montgomerys, so they were the ones responsible for taking care of it.
Addison closed the door to her room and as she went down the stairs, she thought about the eulogy she would have to give the next day. She had never done one in her life, she wasn't even good at writing this type of speech. Why had Bizzy done this to her? Was it revenge for the scandal she had caused last year when she found out about her relationship with Susan? It didn't make sense.
The doorbell of the house rang again and distracted her from her thoughts. She was tired of receiving people. They should have set a time limit for them to stop coming. Although they had good intentions, it was becoming unbearable to have to receive them. However, she turned around and walked to the front door. She had done it automatically all day, as her father or brother were in a much more delicate state. In reality, Archer was an idiot who behaved childishly and refused to cooperate in everything, and the Captain had a higher-than-usual level of alcohol in his bloodstream. So Addison had to be the responsible adult in charge of everything.
She opened the door and the first thing she saw were those blue eyes that she would recognize anywhere, peering at her from behind a snow-covered scarf and hat.
"Derek?" She murmured with a barely perceptible voice.
"Hi, Addie."