Death and LillyChapter TwoI took your memory with me everywhere. For example, when I visited Mrs Xiuo ofPeking, she didn’t freak out like they used to. She slowly became aware of mypresence. She was walking and I was walking with her then she slowed down andfinally stopped. She sat and wept. I remained quiet. Then she talked at greatlength about her family. She didn’t know how her husband would cope without herand she worried about him. Her children would be fine, she knew. Perhaps theywould help her husband come to terms with her death. I was silent. It would nothelp her for me to give assurances of which I knew nothing.I was struck by her selflessness. She was not worried about whether dying would bepainful or what would happen to her next. She was concerned with what the peopleshe was leaving behind would make of it. She approached her death as she hadapproached her life: looking after others.I wondered if she had lived a satisfied life. My unspoken question was answered:she talked of loving her children and her husband but if she could live her lifeagain she would do one thing differently. She would make time for horses somehow.She had always loved horses. She had never actually touched a real, live one butshe had pored over pictures of them as a child. She didn’t know why she lovedthem. She had kept this love to herself all her life and now she cried gently atthe absurdity of keeping a secret.I waited with her as you had done with me. She sighed and told me she was readyand I took her.This experience contrasts greatly with how I used to be. At my cockiest I wouldannounce my presence in a mundanely powerful way, like when I rang your doorbell.It felt like a great laugh to me to do that. A power trip I suppose. It was morethan that. I was bored. I wanted more from people yet I didn’t expect them to giveit to me so I behaved as if I was superior to them.Take Eric from Minnesota. I stood outside his bedroom door and let my presenceseep into his bedroom for a while. I felt him wake with a start and I disappearedmyself while he got up to take a look in the hall. He was concerned becausesomething didn’t feel right so he flicked on all the light switches in hisapartment. Still he could find nothing but he didn’t want to go back to bed. Hefelt uneasy. He made himself a hot drink and sat on his couch. I appeared myselfback into his hall and said, ‘Eric,’ in my spookiest voice. Eric started.‘Who’s there?’ he asked in a voice full of show guts. ‘Who do you think it is?’ Iasked in my spooky voice. ‘I du-du-dunno,’ said Eric, not caring any more aboutputting on a front. He was starting to feel my purpose. ‘You do know, Eric,’ Isaid, still spooky sounding but a bit tired with the game at this point.‘Are you going to hurt me?’ Eric asked. He sounded like he was 5 years old. Thisdid nothing for me. I felt contempt for him. ‘Eric, you know what this is about.Don’t you?’ I said, somewhat impatiently, ‘just say it and we can get this overwith.’I decided to make my appearance in front of him at that point. He wet his pyjamasand began to cry. I felt extremely uncomfortable. So I took him, in the midst ofhis misery. Ugh. I feel ashamed.Eric deserved better than that. Everyone deserves better than that. Yeah, even
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