The Deathbed of Polly MacMahon

As an elderly woman lays in a coma in the hospital, her angel and demon on her shoulders, have one last arguement before she leaves this world.

The white light spilled into the darkness of Polly’s room, bathing her half in illumination, while the other was distorted by shadow. Usually, the nurses drew the curtains to create dark surroundings for their patients to sleep, but Polly wasn’t asleep. Not really. She had closed her eyes for the final time three days ago after suffering a stroke, and now, it was just a waiting game. Her children and grandchildren, bleary eyed and exhausted, had made the decision to go home and rest. For the most part, they all stayed by her bed in constant vigil, but after a near seventy-two hours of hospital food, dozing upright, and the sheer mental and emotional tax of waiting for death, they decided to go home for the night. The nurses promised to call if there was any change.

All was quiet on the hospice ward, as per usual. There is always a heaviness in such places; one of wanting Death to come as soon as possible while also hoping that it would pass over, resulting in some sort of miraculous recovery. It made humans quiet and contemplative, while allowing other beings to finally have their say.

Ashuk sat beside Polly, holding her hand as well as he could, hoping that she knew that she wasn’t alone. Looking at darling Polly, he considered that although the face was the same, it had also changed so much from the porcelain perfection of birth to the elderly weariness that is inevitably brought on by time. In his mind, he flipped through the pages of her long life, reminding himself of the various stories and adventures she had lived and created. With these stories, he also saw the small details that constantly shifted and morphed, creating someone new everyday of her life.

He thought about all of the times that she did him proud, saying or doing the right thing, the exact thing that he had counselled her to do. His good girl with her kind heart, gentle words, and contented soul. But most importantly, it was all done in the face of his counterpart who sat across from him now, just as she always had done, also ever since Polly was born.

Kuhsa sat on the left side of Polly’s bed, her back to the light of the hall, casting her face in shadow. Typical, thought Ashuk, always in shadow with her. Ashuk threw her a dirty look--- as he usually did, he couldn’t help it--- but saw that she wasn’t looking at Polly. Her eyes weren’t even open. The way she sat was the very mirror of Ashuk, except for one detail: where Ashuk was looking lovingly at their life-long charge, Kuhsa decided to have a doze, like having to wait for this old gal to just kick the bucket already was getting in the way of Kuhsa’s nap time. Ashuk didn’t even try to hide his disgust, and scoffed loudly.

Kuhsa was roused with a slight intake of breath, her eyes darting to and fro. ‘What? What happened?’

Ashuk glared ice at her. ‘Nothing happened, Kuhsa. She’s dying.’

‘What are you--- I know, she’s dying, Ashuk. I didn’t think that she was at the spa, awaiting a full body scrub.’

As ever, Ashuk’s cold annoyance was met by Kuhsa’s fiery sarcasm. Such was the story of their life: arguments and antagonization. One massive fight over what was right and wrong, good and evil for the human life that they were each trying to mould in their image. They were like a formerly married couple after a horrible divorce, but were forced to see each other because of the child that they loved and shared. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t like each other from the outset. They never once exchanged kind words. At best, they were indifferent and passive aggressive. However, this time, Kuhsa at least had the sense to not continue the argument. Perhaps because like Ashuk, she knew that the end was soon. An argument would just be in bad taste. Hence, the next ten minutes were made up of complete silence. The only sound was the beep of Polly’s heart rate monitor. Then, quite unexpectedly:

‘Do you think that we did right by her?’

Ashuk, counting the minutes until he never had to listen to Kuhsa ever again, fixed her with a straightforward look, although his nose was tilted up rather far for what he thought was a humble response.

‘I know that I did.’

‘Oh, shut up, you self-righteous prat! Just because you were always on her right doesn’t mean that you always were right!’

So much for not arguing.

‘Making her do the right thing was my job! It’s the whole reason of my existence! I encouraged loyalty, modesty, forgiveness---’

Kuhsa scoffed, utterly astounded. ‘You mean an aversion to questioning, prone to hesitancy, and open to exploitation.’

‘Trust a devil to twist goodness into something horrible.’

‘Trust an angel to see their ''goodness'' as anything but horrible.’

This exchange added an extra twelve minutes of silence. Both sat back in their chairs, arms crossed, brows furrowed and faces pinched. Ashuk, wanting to look like the more mature one of the pair and therefore the one to let go of anger first, again sat forward to give his attention to Polly. He was taken aback to see what looked like a very small, but amused smile on her face. The veil is thinner near death, so it was entirely possible that she heard them, and was laughing at what sounded like two stubborn teenagers.

‘What do you think is going to happen to her?

Ashuk looked at Polly, then back to Kuhsa.

‘What do you mean?

‘I mean, we were always dragged to church with her, every damn Sunday of her life---’ here, Kuhsa made a sound and face that implied that she was going to be sick. Polly’s grandkids did it all the time, and Kuhsa found it hysterical. Ashuk, and by extension, Polly, found it rude and disgusting.

‘--- and we would hear all that crap about, ‘ ''Be good and you Ascend or be bad and you Descend.’’ ’

'So?'

‘Well… where do you think she’s going to go?’

Ashuk was insulted for Polly’s sake. ‘Up!’

'You’re sure about that?’

‘Of course I’m sure! I’ve lived with her for her entire life, and it’s been a good one!’

‘I’ve lived with her too, and I made her do some pretty bad stuff.’

‘Yeah, because that’s your job, stupid!’

Kuhsa gave Ashuk a hard stare. ‘This is how you want to spend her final hours? Bickering?’

‘Do you think I want to bicker? Do you think I’ve enjoyed a literal lifetime of fighting with you? You bring this upon yourself, Kuhsa! I’m mean, for His sake, you’re sitting there with your eyes closed, having a little cat nap! Do you even care that she’s dying?!’

For the first time in their existence together, Ashuk saw an actual look of pain on Kuhsa’s face. She didn’t even respond at first. She just sat there, her mouth slightly agape, struck mute with shock at Ashuk’s words. It didn’t give him the feeling of satisfaction he thought that it would. And the longer Kuhsa silently stared at him, the worse he felt. Finally, black tears rolled out of her slitted-iris eyes, her mouth closed, and she began to breathe as if trying to control herself.

‘My eyes are closed because I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking of the life that she lived, and everything we saw her do. My eyes are closed because I want to remember it all. Do you realize that if she Ascends with you, that means that I will never see her again? You will have her forever, and I will only have memories. So I want her to know that I loved her. I don’t want her to be scared about what is about to happen, and I’m taking my final minutes with her to---’ Emotion blocked the final words from coming out of her throat. But Ashuk guessed at them.

‘Kuhsa… were you praying for her?’

Her answer was ignoring Ashuk and looking back to Polly, but this time with her eyes open, appearing clearer and brighter against her black tears.

Ashuk sat back, unsure of what to do, or indeed what to think. Although Kuhsa was Polly’s demon, it certainly felt sometimes like she was Ashuk’s demon as well. He had endured her for the entirety of Polly’s life, but for the first time, he considered perhaps Kuhsa sees him as her demon. Perhaps to Kuhsa, he is the antagonistic, annoying one that should just shut it for Polly’s sake.

Immediately, a large voice that sounded like himself boomed in his head, telling him to not be ridiculous, that he was an angel and was made to be nothing but good. But afterward, there was a more still, smaller voice, one he had never heard before, that said one person’s angel is another’s devil. This profound thought, so close to the end, almost made Ashuk laugh. A river of clarity rushed through Ashuk's mind, and he considered things that he never had before. 

Perhaps things weren't as black and white as they were made out to be. Perhaps Ashuk even had an angel and devil. Perhaps so did Kuhsa. Or maybe there was a bit of angel and demon in them both. Anyway… didn’t the bible stories say that the first devil started as an exulted angel himself?

A small pocket of silence as Ashuk weighed what he wanted to ask Kuhsa.

'Do you not want her to Descend?’, he finally asked, and for the first time, having no idea where she might go with her answer.

‘Well I---’ Kuhsa cut off, as if struggling to get the words out. Ashuk waited patiently. ‘Whenever I got her to do the things that I whispered to her, it was never to make sure she was going to be punished for it. I never told her to do anything that would bring any harm.’ Kuhsa decided to make a correction. ‘Well… wouldn’t bring too much harm. To her, at least. But I… I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t want her to be hurt in this life, let alone for eternity in the next.’

‘But in our defense, Kuhsa, that's our reason for existence: to get humans to choose between right and wrong.’

‘Yes, but so many things that I told her weren’t wrong. They were breaking away from the established rules. Not to be bad, but because I thought that the rules were s**t. I wanted her to have adventures.’ Kuhsa looked at Polly, uncertainty creating new lines for the tears to flow down her contorted face. ‘Now, all of her adventures are done.’

Ashuk was moved. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and found it so profound that though he and Kuhsa were on opposing sides, they somehow still had the same love for Polly. Well, he thought, if Kuhsa is willing to sit with her doubt and allowed it to speak through her, surely I can do the same.

‘You know, not everything that I did was necessarily for her own good.’

‘Don’t lie. Angels aren’t supposed to.’

‘I’m not lying. Remember when she was fifteen, and the Fullers invited her to go to New York with them?’

Kuhsa’s face was thoughtful with memory, then split into a vicious little grin. ‘I would have loved for her to go. I would have made her do so much bad s**t.’

‘Yeah, and that was why I convinced her not to go. Actually… that’s not even true. I just--- I didn’t want her to go. I wasn’t afraid of what you would make her do, I was afraid of what might happen to her. Polly wanted to go, the Fuller’s were trustworthy, and her parents didn’t have any objections, but I stopped her for fear of what might happen instead of excitement of what could happen. And I did that all the time. With relationships, jobs, friends, travelling, dreams… I stopped her because I was afraid that something bad might happen to her, taking her further and further from the right choices, and I wouldn't be able to fix it.’

Ashuk realized something, but before he could voice it, Kuhsa asked it first: ‘What are the right choices?’

Ever since their charge was born, they were always fighting over Polly, sometimes literally. Conscience and Temptation, angel and demon, light and dark… but right and wrong? Both of them had instincts that drove their behaviours and their fierce competition over what they wanted Polly to do. But never once did they ever stop and consider ‘what should Polly do?’, or indeed, what could she do without their combined interference?

They never questioned their own instincts, their own views. Never let down their guard, for fear they might lose to the other. Never did they think to set their rivalry aside, and see each other as a fellow creature of the Ether. To see the other as an ally, not an enemy to be quashed. They only ever asked what was right or wrong for themselves, and never what was perhaps best for their girl.

‘Well, isn’t that lovely? We both had one job, and we somehow still failed at it.’

‘I don’t think that you should necessarily use the word ''failed'', Ashuk.’

They both looked down at their dear Polly and truly saw her for the first time in a very long time: they saw not a child or woman, nor did they even see a human, but one big, long story that would live on in those who loved her, long after her physical self ceased to exist. A life that had been lived while they two squabbled and squawked back and forth, never seeing truly what that life was doing, only what they wanted --- or didn’t want--- it to do. But in spite of their petty rivalry, Polly turned out ok.

She had fallen in love and had the family that she had longed for. Her husband was a good man, but he, and indeed their marriage, was not without its faults. And though she loved him wildly, she sometimes found her head turned by other men from time to time, a feeling that was both exhilarating and shame filled. She adored and was grateful for all five of her children, but from their infancy to the time they left the house, there were times--- sometimes days--- where Polly wished that she and her husband would have just had the good sense to use contraception. She worked at a good job that she enjoyed, though it wasn’t her dream career. She made and lost friends. She had hobbies she enjoyed and invested in at every opportunity. She ate unhealthy food more and exercised less than she should have. She went on nice holidays, but never travelled to far, exotic places like she had wanted to in her youth.

So many of these decisions were shaped by the whispers of Ashuk and Kuhsa. Like when she didn’t take up painting like she had wanted to because Ashuk had convinced her that others might laugh at what she had created, which was something that neither of them could bear, so she stopped before she began, though she always had a curiosity and yearning for it. Or when she had divorced her first husband after only two years of marriage, and in a time when people simply didn’t get divorced. Kuhsa had convinced her to do this, despite Polly’s religion and society telling her that it was wrong, because very simply, they both knew that Polly should never have married him in the first place.

But there were other times when Polly merely chose for herself, despite what either of them said. Where Ashuk and Kuhsa only saw one way or another, Polly saw other paths, and often took them while the pair of them were sitting on her shoulders, quarrelling like they were fighting over directions while lost in their car.

Ashuk and Kuhsa knew that they weren’t the only ones. Though they never saw the others, they knew that everyone had an angel and a demon. These odd little entities first and foremost have the welfare of their human in mind, so they counsel for what is best for them. But what is right for one human is simply wrong for another. Or sometimes not even wrong, just… not what should be, not the way that life should go. Right for one is not right for all, but the point isn't right versus wrong; it's how we live together despite the difference. 

This is what Polly had come to realize while her invisible companions stayed laser focused on their own views: in the end, when literally all is said and done, no one can know if they’ve lived a right or wrong life. Not really. All we can know is if we have lived our true life. The one that has love, peace and happiness, of course. But also one that is marred by mistakes, mischief, and lessons to learn from. A life where one can find virtue in the vice, the folly in prudence.

All in all, though not perfect by anyone else’s standards, Polly’s life was perfect for Polly. It had been messy, complex, and often contradictory, but it had been her own, and had brought her happiness and fulfilment, and this thought comforted Polly as she felt the stroke shutting down her brain, and just seemed to know that she would never wake again in this life.

Ashuk felt a sensation that was new to him, though Polly would have told him that he merely had a lump in his throat. As his hand curled around Polly’s, he looked up at Kuhsa, her face still in shadow--- always in shadow with her--- but now he saw the lights of the hospice halls shining over her, giving her a glow very much like an angel’s halo.

'We’ve missed the miracle.’

‘Wha---What miracle?’ He struggled to talk past the lump.

‘The miracle of her life lived.’

His nature made him want to say something comforting, something that would fix the sadness and grief. But he knew exactly what Kuhsa meant, and he knew that she was absolutely right, which made the hurt in his throat bigger. He was reminded of something that Polly's immigrant grandfather used to say in his broken english: 'Too soon old, too late smart.'

After a small pause, Kuhsa added, ‘But we’re here for her now. Together. Perhaps that is some small consolation.’

Ashuk looked at his life’s companion, his too-late-realized friend, and spoke without thinking the words. They just flowed through him like a breeze through tall grass.

‘Polly won’t Descend, Kuhsa. Nor do I think will you.’

Kuhsa scoffed, but not with annoyance or mistrust, but with actual mirth. ‘I’m a demon… I have to Descend.’

‘You said yourself that you tried to do your best by Polly. I believe that must count for something. Sometimes, I think the humans have a very small perception of What Happens after. And perhaps, we do too. We blindly follow our nature, without considering what may exist outside of our initial understanding.’ His ice blue eyes met with her acid yellow ones. 'I don't think you'll Descend.'

Again, Kuhsa snorted, but quietly responded in a small voice that almost moved Ashuk to tears, ‘I hope you’re right.’

At that, they both felt a lightness come upon them. Though they didn’t move, they felt as if they were becoming lighter, like helium balloons being released into the sky on a still day. The lights on the ward didn’t get brighter, but still somehow grew, giving the dark, quiet room a sparkle like it was covered in fresh dewdrops early in the morning.

It was happening.

Ashuk and Kuhsa fearfully stared into each other’s eyes. Too late did they see, did they understand that this life that was leaving wasn't exaulted by one and thwarted by the other... it was created by them both equally. And in it's small way, what a glorious life it had been.

Kuhsa smiled her horrifying, monsterous grin. ‘You are such a boring goody-goody.’

Ashuk returned with a handsome, angelic glow. ‘You are truly a vicious blight of the soul.’

They both laughed, then their smiles disappeared, and their looks changed to something more pensive, more real. And from that place, they smiled truly at each other yet again. Just as the feeling of lightness grew, so did the light. In the last moments, while each still held onto Polly, they reached across and took each other’s hands, for the first and last time.

The light consumed them, and all three, hand in hand, left our world for the next.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading :)

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer. You took me to old places. Where I sat with my family members waiting for death. I liked the memories and the thoughts. The description was brilliant. You brought me in and I wanted to read more. Thank you dear Chrissie for sharing the outstanding story.
Coyote

[Chrissie Muldoon]

Oh, Coyote, Im so grateful to you for having read this. I of course appreciate what you had to say about my writing, but I'm also glad that you had what sounds like a cathartic experience while reading it.
Much love to you and thanks again for reading :)

[Coyote Poetry]

Us, who love to write. We hope. Maybe we can teach or show someone something new. I enjoyed the story and you are welcome.

[Thomas W Case]

Tremendous work. You bring the story to life.

[Chrissie Muldoon]

Thank you so much, Thomas. That really is such a lovely thing to read about my writing. I so appreciate your reading my story and commenting so kindly :)

[Tom]

" There is always a heaviness in such places; one of wanting Death to come as soon as possible while also hoping that it would pass over, resulting in some sort of miraculous recovery.
It made humans quiet and contemplative, allowing other beings to finally have their say "

Right or wrong, take a chance or not? Supernatural beings, our sentinals, guardian angels, spirits, good, evil, Are they looking out for Polly or their own selfish, naive egos?

" The veil is thinner near death, so it was entirely possible that she heard them, and was laughing at
what sounded like two sullen teenagers"

Yep, me thinks Polly finally realised at death's door, despite all the worries, wants, maybe's, should I have? In the end as Sinatra's famous song goes, ' she did it her way' ...

Sleep peacefully Polly, you opened the eyes of not just pious mortal people but the very conscious of good and bad that pulls so many apart, nope, you got it right as ultimely one should follow the heart that way, ' Non, je ne regrette rien '

https://youtu.be/Q3Kvu6Kgp88?si=ER9SmRhZXuK19TXT

[Chrissie Muldoon]

Thanks so much for your review Tom. I'm so happy with the feelings this brought up for you, and very good shout out to Edith Piaf. I'm a massive fan of her myself, and that song often illicits tears for me.
Be well :)

[AYVID N]

Dear Chrissie,
Received your mail request but couldn't respond earlier, being overworked and so on. But I had read the story that day itself and gave it another reading now and here are my inputs....

Reading the story, I kept marveling at the depth and understanding with which you tackle the subject of human nature. Good and evil, right and wrong. How layered it all is and nothing as it overtly seems. There used to be outright branding of character in the earlier days, a woman if not submissive was a s**t and a man who looted others was a rogue but now as we mature as a civilization, these definitions and lines are kind of fading and blending into one another and a more than holistic view of qualities, traits, actions and reactions must be taken. No one is outrightly good or bad, black or white and the branding of people as such can lead to tragic misjudgments.

The story of Ashuk and Kuhsa is one such story in which the supposedly good and the supposedly bad guardian spirits of a woman have wrangled lifelong with each other and have come to an equilibrium of sorts between themselves, much like a married couple. It soon becomes obvious that Kuhsa is not all about pushing Polly to do the wrong things in life and that some of what she influenced her to do was actually good for Polly's growth in her earthly experience. On the other hand, Ashuk, who is supposed to be good for Polly actually comes across as weak and ineffectual at significant points in the story.

I related to this deeply as I'm someone who's always let the Kuhsa in me have an upper hand. I do things that may not seem right to others and may not be by the social book but I'll still do them because they FELT right to me. Ashuk on the other hand is necessary to rein in some of my excesses but too much of him would be like a straitjacketing. I loved that Polly ignored him AND Kuhsa sometimes to be her own woman. I loved that she lived her life. In the end, its all about the balance. Its all about what makes for a fulfilling life and its all about owning our lives with all the good and bad in it.

The way you wrote the story was very gripping and made for a compelling read. What I'd call, 'Unputdownable' with a great flow. You show a sound understanding of human nature, as I said earlier. The treatment of the subject is logical, analytical and yet you have taken care to write good emotion into it and aside from being thought-provoking, it was also a very touching story to read. especially the following lines:

"My eyes are closed because I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking of the life that she lived with us, and everything we saw her do. My eyes are closed because I want to remember it all. If she Ascends with you, that means that I will never see her again. And I want her to know that I loved her. I don’t want her to be scared about what is about to happen, so I’m taking my final minutes with her to---’ Emotion blocked the final words from coming out of her throat. But Ashuk guessed at them."

~ The character of Kuhsa will remain with me forever. You have as a writer achieved what is a writer's ultimate aim.

The story ends with a message of tolerance, co-existence and balance between all beings, mortal or immortal, of earthly of other realms. I guess the same principles of love, forgiveness, and understanding apply everywhere. The reader is left hoping the three have left the world to be an eternally happy family in heaven. Such was my involvement with this story.

Kudos!

[Chrissie Muldoon]

Oh my goodness, Divya, this review was AMAZING to read! The depth that you went to (and the time that it must have taken you to write it) is obvious, and as someone who was just expecting a line or two, I am beyond appreciative for the detail and the personal effect the story had on you, all written in your review. I really do love hearing from people about how my writing affects them, whether for better or worse, because I believe in my bones that stories can actually change our lives. So to hear such detail from a reader not only gives me insight into their personal experiences and perspectives, but also into the human condition which I strive to write with honesty, grace, and a bit of humor.
In turn, your review has given me something to cherish, as I always am a bit apprehensive to share my creativity, a fear that is shared by artists across genres and mediums. Its reviews like this that bolster my resolve, and remind me that stories with my own personal vulnerability and honesty can really make a difference to others.

Art and community really are so much alike. Thank you for your time in reading, and this generous review

[AYVID N]

Honestly Chrissie, I, being always a bit of a rebel had this little demon in me, yes, you gave her the name, Kuhsa. This story confirmed what I always believed, my Kuhsa was never a demon but an angel in disguise.

You're most welcome and do keep sharing your stories. I'll be glad to provide my inputs.

[emmajoygreen]

This is extraordinary, Chrissie. You have taken faith, past, foresight and argument into an incredibly complex situation plus, to the end, this way or another, have created a thoughtful debate along with the words and actions included in your tale. Without saying too much prior to other readers' visit, you have opened thought to an unusual place, without crass emotions yet with what turns out to be.. ..

a very worthy and wonderful write.

[Chrissie Muldoon]

I always so appreciate what you have to say about my writing, Emma. Your words always show me that you took time to read, to understand and to process what I've written. A huge blessing indeed these days in a world full of skim readers and attention spans that only last as long as a tiktok reel.
Really really... truly appreciated :)

[emmajoygreen]

Thank you but - a mere view isn't enough these days.
People ache to find the right words that mean something not only to selves but other people. So, I try to take time.