Sunshine

She sat at the table, her eyes closed, her hands propped on the arms of her wheel chair. She looked peacefully sleeping. The dining room assistants were removing her remaining food from the table, food blended, easy to swallow. I looked at her. Her face, barely without a wrinkle, her skin as smooth as cream, her lips dry from biting them. 
"Mom?" I said quietly. 
She slowly opened up her eyes. 
"Ann?" she asked. 
"Yes, Mom." 
"Where have you been?" 
"I've been here. Do you want to go for a walk? 
"Yes, please take me anywhere away from here." 
"Do you need the legs on the wheelchair?" I asked. 
"Yes," she answered. "It'll be easier." 
The certified nursing assistant put the legs on her wheel chair. 
We slowly went down the hallway. 
"Where did they put the baby?" she asked. 
"Whose baby?" 
"My baby. Where did they put my baby?" 
"I don't know, Mom. But you don't have a baby." 
"Why do I always think about my baby?" she asked. 
I stopped the wheelchair and squatted down in front of it. I couldn't talk with her any longer while pushing her in the wheelchair. I needed to look into her eyes. 
"Are we going to get the baby now?" she asked. 
"Mom, there is no baby."
"There is no baby?" she asked. 
"No baby except me. And I'm now 56 years old." 
I stood, and we continued to the Olive Branch, the community dining room now empty, being between lunch and dinner. 
I sat beside her at a table, overlooking a garden with spring flowers blooming. She stared out the window, gazing into the flower garden. 
I walked to the food cart to buy us ice cream. They had the crunchy nut covered ice cream sandwiches. She could eat only smooth food.
I sat beside her again. She turned to me. 
"Do you think they think I'm crazy?" she asked. 
"Who would think you're crazy?" I asked. 
"They would because of the baby." 
"Are you telling people about the baby?" 
She looked into my eyes. "No, I'm not telling anyone about the baby, but why do I always think about my baby?" 
"Who knows why you're thinking about a baby? I don't know. But I know you're not crazy." 
I pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose. 
"I just want you to let me know when I'm crazy," she said. 
"I'll let you know, Mom, but, by then, I'll probably be crazy, too." We laughed. 
"Do you want to go see Sunshine?" I asked. 
"Yes, but I think he went upstairs." 
"Upstairs where? You mean upstairs here?" 
"No, I mean upstairs to heaven." 
"Let's go check on that," I said. 
I paused before we left the Olive Branch. 
"Can I write about you and Dad?" I asked. 
"Write about me and Dad? Do you mean Papa?" she asked. 
"Yes. I started something and only Dan is reading." 
"Dan?" 
"Yes. Danny." 
"Is he Ellie's son? The one who died?" 
"No, Mom. He's Danny." I pulled out my wallet and showed her a picture of Danny. I then showed her a picture of Sammy I also had in my wallet. 
"Sammy is the one who died. You remember Sammy, right?" 
"Yes, Sammy," she closed her eyes. 
"Danny is the one who speaks Spanish." 
"Yes, Danny." Her eyes closed again. 
"Mom, do you want me to write this story about you and Papa?" 
Her eyes still closed, I reached down to hug her. 
"Yes, I want you to write it." 
"Are you sure you want me to write it?" 
"Yes, Annie, I've read everything you have written. It will be beautiful." 
"Okay, if you're sure." 
"I'm sure," she said, her green eyes now open, looking into mine. 
"Let's go see Sunshine."

CHAPTER ONE 
It was late in the night.I was sleeping on my electric lift chair in the living room when I heard the phone ringing. I looked around for him. Where was he? Where was Papa? I've called him Papa ever since the first grandchild named him Papa. Before that, I called him Dad when our kids were growing up. And before that, I called him Ed. 
I didn't see him in the living room, sleeping on the couch where he had been sleeping the past few months, but I heard my one daughter, El, in the kitchen on the phone. She sounded as if she was crying or screaming.I couldn't tell. I used the control button to lower the leg rest of the chair to the floor. I reached for my walker that should have been beside my chair and realized that it was not there. It was across the room by the couch where Papa usually slept. 
I know I shouldn't have tried crossing the room to my walker by myself, but I did. I needed to understand why Ellie was crying or screaming on the phone. The walker was becoming more and more difficult to push, though. I was so unsteady and oftentimes dizzy. I only told Papa. No one else knew. I managed to walk with it through the living room, dining room and into the kitchen. I looked at Ellie. 
Then I remembered. Papa ... Dad ... Ed ... hadn't been at home for the last seven days. He had been in the hospital. I looked at Ellie again. She looked back. I knew what I never wanted to know. 
Ellie said, "We've got to pick up Ann and get to the hospital." Ellie hung up the phone while tossing a scarf around my neck, telling me how cold it was outside. 
I did remember the cold. It was January.Now I also remembered that I had been at the hospital in the afternoon to see Papa.I remembered that I told him I didn't want him to leave us, to leave me, that he couldn't leave me to go to heaven.Or was that the other day I told him that? I couldn't remember.But I did remember combing his hair in the hospital. 
Annie was with me in Papa's hospital room. He was lying in bed.I asked Annie to comb his hair. Instead, she took the comb from his nightstand, handed to me,and helped me to the side of his bed.I combed his hair. Lately, I was always combing his hair because he had a new and bad barber who caused a cowlick at the top of his head.I also combed his hair because it was one of the things I could still do. Papa knew that. 
"Don't leave us,"I said. 
"I'm not leaving you,"he responded, propped in the hospital bed. 
"Please don't leave me,"I whispered. 
"I'll never leave you,"he responded. 
Annie, still in the room by the window pretending to read get well cards interrupted. 
"Okay, no one is going anywhere except for me to take Mom down to the cafeteria to get some lunch. Is that all right,Dad?" Ann asked. 
"Yes, I'll be fine and I'll be here when you get back." He smiled,lifting his hand hooked to all of the IV tubes. "I'm not going anywhere."