Ida Stew - story


Posted by Clemstra on August 20, 2004 at 22:10:12:

copyright 2003 Clemstra

Ida Stew - Clemstra

Ida got up early to get things ready for the family gathering.
Kin folk would be here soon, and she didn't know how they would
take things. Henney was having trouble with it, but there
wasn't much else to say. They'd tried it his way and his
city experts hadn't found anything to hope for.

Ida got out the best silverware, the fine china, grandma's
finest napkins, and set the table. She went into the
kitchen to start gathering the spices, the vegtables
and everything else. Henney got the big black pot out.
They used that pot for everything. Washing clothes, dying
clothing, making soap, bathing, cooking and now this.
She hoped no one was going to think this a jinx on the pot.
She worried about Henney, what he'd do when she was gone.
They'd never been apart since the day they had married.

He got all the wood ready. The water in the pot heated
to just luke warm and no hotter for now. She got out
the home made brew. Plenty for the kinfolk, plenty for
the stew, plenty to help her along.

She got out the side dishes first and a small amount of
dandelion wine, to grease the wheels so to speak.
She had their son from the city set up the video tape
for evidence. They didn't have no fancy lawyers, no
official sanctions and she didn't want anyone getting
hurt in this. This was to end the hurt as best as possible.

Henney was looking at her like he was planning on shooting
himself. "Henney, love we've been through it all."

He didn't want to look her in the eyes. "I love you, you
know that Henney."

He finally met her eyes, "Then don't leave me Ida."

She had to hold back from crying again, "Not like I have
a choice Henney. It's this or you see me die over the
next few months, my muscles tearing themselves to pieces.
Is that what you want? What type of memories will you
have of me, of our last few moments together that way?"

"No, but the hospital"..... he couldn't finish it.

"They already told us was nothing they could do but dope
me up. They can't do that very well. Meanwhile they'll
take everything we have left for the kids, for your
retirement. I'd still die Henney! Just be glad our
kids didn't inherit it from me. John and Beth won't ever
have to face this."

"Ida, I can't go on without you," he was shaking.

"Henney, John and Beth still need you. Beth isn't grown,
and John and his wife need you. Don't rush your death
Henney. If the good lord allows me to stay and watch
over you, I will." She stroked his face and beard, he always
liked her brushing his beard for him.

Continuing to stroke his beard, she started to cry as well.
"I don't want to leave you Henney, but it's now or
three months from now. This ways best for all of us."

"We got time Ida. It'll take a while for everyone to get here.
The pot will stay as is for a while." He carried her back to
bed. Undressing one another they made love one last time.
He was in good shape for a man of fifty years. She was
pretty good shape for a woman of forty five. Her breasts still
not sagging, even after having nursed two babes.

He stroked his fingers through her long black hair, traces of
white emerging as she had aged. He always loved her hair long.
He'd probably want to keep her hair, maybe be buried with it.
When that is, there was money for a proper burial for them all.
Money had been so tight, then the war had come. No one had much
time for undertakers. Kin had buried or handled the memorials
for their own during the war. They had to survive, making
their own clothing. Bringing food for the family and preventing
those evil bastards from trying to make your family food, or
a play thing for their cities. The evil bastards were gone,
but folks around here parts still didn't trust the cities much.

She wrapped her legs around him as he entered her, arching in
and out, both of them sounding in pleasure. She'd stroked
her hands up and down his back. He'd fondled her breasts,
occasionally sucking her nipples. Afterwards he lay still
inside her, touching, caressing.

"Don't leave me Ida," it was a desire more then a request now.

She found herself crying again, damn it hurt so to leave like this.
"What am I going to do Henney? You want me to be like my
grandfather, my muscles tearing themselves apart little by little
as you watch? Even he ended up killing himself in the end with
help from my father."

He held her tight, that was the only thing they could do. "I
love you Ida," he was breathing hard.

"I love you to Henney, I don't want to go. Don't have much choice
in the matter." They heard a vehicle coming up the road, it was
time to get up and dress. Henney went out to the pot to put
another bit of wood on, keeping the water warm.

It was the first load of kin, her son and family had come from
the city. They were glad to see them safe, John and Myrna had to
go in the underground during the war. Even so they'd come
close to Myrna being butchered. Myrna had killed the butchers
in the shop instead. Guess they thought folks would always
just be easy victims. The victims had nothing to lose by
fighting. They'd die horribly anyway, so why not kill their killers?
John had escaped a death camp, leading others from that camp to
safety. He still had the tatoo on his arm. The grandkids had
almost been snuffed in some club, it'd been a narrow escape.

"Mom", he'd thrown his arms around her. He was crying too!
Oh damn, now Myrna and the grandkids had started crying.

"Mom, you don't have to do this".

"What am I going to do then son?"

"The death givers, they can keep the symptons at bay a while
longer," he offered.

"I already checked on that, nearest death giver is a long ways
away. He told me what he could and couldn't do, this ways
best son." She lead them in and made them some tea till the
others came.

Beth came in, she was only sixteen and back in high school.
She had to live in town with Aunt Clara to go, meaning
Henney would be alone most days of the week. Beth
hugged her with tears, she was always so silent. Their
daughter Beth didn't say much. She was the silent
observer, her emotions deep, strong and often unknown.

When everyone was present she served the wine, some bread,
put out the deviled eggs and other snacks. She gave the
speech she'd made. Didn't quite go as well as she hoped.
They all starred at her, mouths open.

"Now folks stop that. This way I go without pain, no
medical bills. The doctors already said there's nothin
they can do anyway. Won't even be a funeral expense.
You'll have a nice meal and NO you'all do not HAVE to eat
me if you don't want to."

They were still starring. She asked for alternatives then!
There were none. It was just no one wanted to say goodbye,
no one ever does.

"Now Henney is just going to heat the pot up a little at
a time. I won't even feel pain. People die this way
all the time not even knowing they're dying. Same
principle they use with frying live frogs in some those
fancy French places. If you turn the heat up all at
once it's painful, so the frog jumps out of the frying
pan. Turn it up gradually and the frog feels no pain,
relaxes and just drifts off. That's how it will be for
me. No pain, just nice and warm with you all around me
for comfort. I'll just drift off at some point and
fall asleep. Isn't that better then you folks having
to see me go the way grandfather started to?"

They remembered how it had been for grandfather before he
finally couldn't take it anymore. They seemed to relax
a bit.

"Now if none of you is going to eat me, that's fine. You
can just put my stew on the flower beds. It'll probably
make the flowers grow better. Henney's going to carve up
my bones into nice little remembrences for everyone. You'll
always have a bit of me with you, and I'll always love you
all no matter where I go after death."

They were taking it better now, the kids though had started
to cry. "Grandma, grandma don't go, don't die."

"I can't help it honey. We all die, it's just the way of things."
She told them if allowed, she'd watch over them from heaven.

She brought out the hard stuff for everyone to have one good
stiff drink, it would help them. She'd already done an
enema and douche. A stiff drink for her would go directly
into the blood stream. It'd make it easier, probably
marinate her nicely.

The women of the family helped remove her long black
hair, tinted white with the wearing of the years.

"I want Henney to have my hair. He may add it to the
memento's he makes for everyone, or not. He has
always liked me with my hair long," she told them.

Henney came in to shave her crotch. Folks were a bit
embarrassed to hear her and him moaning, having one
last time together as man and wife. She heard her
son explaining to their grand kids, it was just grandma
and grandpa saying goodbye one last time, in a very
special way. She washed up, bringing all the spices,
seasonings, onions, and stew stuff over to the kettle.
She hoped her body would do more then become flower food,
but that was up to them now.

Henney helped her up in the kettle, they'd put a nice stool
in it for her to sit down and take it easy. She sat down in
the water, nice and warm. The warm water made her muscles
feel better, like a nice warm bath. Many's the times she had
in fact bathed in this very pot.

She took another glass of hard cider. "Fred this batch you
made is one of the best you've ever done."

"Thank's Ida, wanted you to....", he took another glass of
cider himself to steady his emotions. He realized this
was the last time he'd ever see his little sister. He
was just lucky the condition had skipped him. Hopefully
it would skip his kids too! Unfortunately it hadn't skipped
Ida.

Henney put on another bit of wood, raising the temperature
just a bit more. Felt even better, down in her womanly
parts she was actually tingling a bit. Her nipples felt
nice, like a sensual massage. That's what those magazines
called it. She took the ladle and put some water over
her head, she was startin to feel cold on top. They
talked and laughed, had a nice time. Ida felt a little
drunk, then sleepy as she just drifted off to sleep with
a nice smile on her face.

Henney checked on Ida, she was still breathing, just starting
to drift off. He put a small piece of wood on the fire
to increase the heat ever so slightly. He ladled a little
broth on her head to keep her warm. She smiled a bit more
in her sleep, then her body relaxed totally. He checked to
see if she was still with them, just barely. He added all
the things she wanted, she was always a good cook, and this
was her last meal so to speak. He checked one more time.
With a slight sob he realized she was gone. He added a lot
more wood to bring the water to a full boil. John took a
hook to lift out the seat. Her body went face down in the
big kettle as he put a lid on for the stew to boil.

It's when they all knew she was no longer with them the tears
came. It was a real funeral then. They cried, they prayed
and sang. The smell of the stew was nice, making stomachs
growl. He wanted to turn to Ida to tell her she'd made
another great meal, only Ida wasn't there. He realized
again, this was Ida's funeral, her body in the stew.

They all talked about her, afterwards eating a nice Ida stew.
She had wanted this, it was a better way then her grandfather
had gone out, they all agreed. It was a nice reception afterwards,
with Ida stew as the main course. She made very good stew,
everyone agreed she had always been a good cook, this was no
exception.

Henney made some lovely things of the stronger bits of her
bone. He attached long strands of her lovely hair. He put
her name, birth and death date on each memorial pin he made.
John took the video tape for proof should there be legal
difficulties. He'd found an old VHS machine to make copies
and transfer the contents to newer style media. Everyone
could have a copy of Ida's last hours. Henney asked his son
to please get him a copy soon. He wanted to watch Ida, hear
her voice.

There were still plenty of left overs for Henney to eat when
everyone left. He'd have enough to eat till Beth came home
to cook for him on weekend. It was something he still
had of Ida. He found himself coming into the house often
to talk to her, the bed now empty. She was no longer there
to talk to, no longer there with him. Even the Ida stew was
gone by the end of the week. At that point he felt truly
empty and alone. Even the last of her cooking was gone.
Not even a scent of her famous wonderful cooking, of her.

Somehow he couldn't see himself going on like this. It
was only Beth coming home, that would keep him. When Beth
graduated and went away, so would he. Ida he knew would
be waitin for him.