One Death

She clutched her mother’s hand. Her mother said that she was dying and that she was thirsty. She brought her mother a glass of water and said that she (her mother) was old but maybe she wasn’t dying just yet. Her mother told her daughter that she was going to die any moment and that they should say their goodbyes now. Her daughter didn’t know what to say, so she asked her mother to begin by saying goodbye. Her mother told her daughter that she had lived a long life and that she had had a happy life and that she (her daughter) was always been her favorite. They laughed and her daughter told her mother to be serious, but half-seriously. Her mother asked her daughter what she (her daughter, or anyone) says when saying goodbye. Her daughter told her mother that she (her daughter) usually just says something like, “I will see you later.” Her mother said that that doesn’t apply in this case, because death is final and yet at the same time she (her mother) is not really going anywhere. Her daughter said that perhaps it could be shortened to something like, “I will see you.” Her mother said that that still implied something like, “I will see you later,” and that a dying person was better off saying something like, “I will” They laughed at this and she (her daughter) said, “I will what?” Her mother said that she didn’t know, maybe she meant something like, “I will die.” Her daughter said that that was stupid: no one tells a person they will die as a form of saying goodbye. “That’s a way to end goodbyes,” she continued. “Yes,” her mother said. “Maybe one should just say, ‘I.’” Her daughter asked her mother what “I” meant in that sense. Her mother said that a person should say “I” as much as they can before they die in order to understand who they have been and what they are about to lose. “It’s an identity that will no longer be,” she (her mother) said. Her daughter agreed that this was true but that that was hardly a way of saying goodbye, but rather that was more of a philosophical point. She (her mother) told her daughter that she was right, that death had very little to do with saying goodbye, and that – if anything – death was more like saying hello. “Hello to whom?” Her daughter asked. “Hello to one’s self,” her mother said. “Or ‘oneself’” her daughter said. Her mother didn’t understand that. But then her mother (she)