Philip’s gentle eyes open and stare his sister straight in the face.
“It’s Mother’s Day. Go home to mom,” she says.
This statement would have taken on a completely different meaning had his mother not been dead for 10 years.
His breathing is slow and peaceful now; much different than the thick, labored wheezing of the past few hours. Now she breathes in hiccups, her eyes wet with tears. But not his.
The windows to his soul are opened wide and eager, but he most definitely isn’t seeing her face. He’s looking at…watching…something else. Maybe it’s that virgin girl his mother always eulogized. Mary. Yeah, that’s her name. Mary.
Or he could be watching The Seventh Seal, that Ingmar Bergman flick that he once recommended to me. “You’ll like it. It’s really far out, man.” But now Philip was really far out there. What is he looking at? What is he seeing?
Something just on the other side of the threshold. Bergman. Or the virgin…Mary.
Maybe he’s sitting in the rose garden with Sister Whatever-Her-Name-Was…that nun from 5th grade who put the Fear of God in him with a leather-bound book and a ruler. After all these years, he’s might be teaching her about real Fear and real Faith; telling her about what good praying to that virgin did him on all those lonesome, frightening nights in ‘Nam. I mean, that’s where this whole story begins right? God and ‘Nam.
No. Tonight, Philip Michael DeRenzis is not fearful. He knows how this goes. He’s been waiting for it…bravely.
See, in the Seventh Seal, the king’s knight plays chess with Death. Death makes his final move and says, “Checkmate.” The knight bites it. The End. But what most people don’t notice is: Death lied. The knight had one more move. The Reaper just wanted to finish the game a bit early.
Now that hooded son-of-a-bitch is here again, trying to cut this game a bit short. And Philip knows the Braggart in Black will always win, but he’s playing this one until our opponent makes his last mighty move; a move long-awaited, inescapable, and so perfect, so beautiful, that it takes one’s breath away…forever.
Tonight, Philip stares my mother in the face. He’s been expecting this moment for quite some time. He’s not bitter. He’s not afraid. He’s just playing the game until that final move.
And she says one more time, “It’s okay, Philip. Go home to Mom.”
Philip reaches across the table, shakes the hooded hand, smiles handsomely, and says, “Good game.” He turns and walks calmly across the threshold, and embraces the woman he’s been staring at for the past 10 minutes. And for the first time in 10 years, he spends Mother’s Day with his mom.
