my deepest sympathy.
a lovely service, reverend.
terrible loss.
yes.
are you related to the deceased?
no, not at all.
oh, a friend of the family, then.
no, actually, i don't know anyone here.
they're all strangers to me.
but it was still a very lovely service.
barbara lemay, the woman in black.
out of place in a world of colors and sounds and life.
a woman caught between fascination
and something more profound and less earthly.
barbara lemay, with one foot in the grave.
the other firmly planted in the twilight zone.
as i was saying,
a lovely service.
there must have been at least 150 people there.
they had a reception afterwards
and they served
the most delicious finger sandwiches.
so, who was the service for?
i didn't know we knew anyone who had died.
i'm not certain.
you know how i am with names.
you mean you...
mother, you have got to stop going to funerals
for people you don't even know.
why?
well, because it's wrong, that's all.
they had white roses.
oh, you should have seen them.
white roses tied with tiny red ribbons.
silk, i think they were.
one for each year.
there was music
and there was such words spoken.
such love.
when i go,
i think i would very much want
a service like that.
would you see to it, dear?
mother, will you please stop it.
you know, i don't like to hear you talk like this.
jason, these things happen.
we hate to think about them...
no, you don't hate to think about them,
youlove to think about them.
otherwise, every time i see you, every other word is death.
mom, when i asked you out to the coast
to see margie and the kids,
you couldn't.
you couldn't come
because you couldn't make any long-term plans.
how the hell am i supposed to explain that to them?
"i'm sorry, grandma can't come for thanksgiving
"because she isn't sure
whether she'll be alive or not"?
you hurt them.
i'm sorry.
i really am.
i know. I know.
i just wish you'd stop all this.
let some light in here.
get some air.
mother, this... this obsession of yours is not good.
it's not healthy.
it's morbid.
mom, i love you very much.
and i want you to see your grandchildren grow up.
i'll try.
i will, really.
okay.
oh, i'm sorry.
i got to go.
plane to catch.
then you go.
and you give my love to margie and ben and susan.
i'll be fine.
really.
hello?
is anyone there?
don't move!
don't call the cops
or i'll kill you, i swear.
who are...?
shh.
don't try to talk.
i did what i could,
but i think it's bad.
i'd better call the hospital.
no.
don't want to die in no hospital.
i'm dying, ain't i?
i'm not an expert.
but, yes, i think you are dying.
while you were out,
i turned on the radio.
they mentioned a robbery at an all-night liquor store.
twenty-seven dollars in change.
ain't that something?
i'll get you some water.
no...
please.
don't worry.
i won't leave you alone.
i understand.
perhaps better than you know.
i'll wait with you.
we'll both...
wait...
together.
you're here... aren't you?
yes, i'm here.
i can see you.
are you surprised?
no.
no, i suppose you wouldn't be.
we spend so much time together, you and i.
it must make one more sensitive.
yes.
i was in the hospital once.
the woman in the room next to me
died in the night.
i felt you nearby.
who are you talking to?
no one, trent.
no one.
it's all right.
it's so cold.
he can't see you.
i won't exist for him until his time.
where do you take us?
to a better place?
sometimes.
it must be beautiful.
well, it's a place like any other.
oh, no, please.
please, wait, wait.
why don't you take me instead of him?
what's he to you?
nothing.
no one.
but he can't see the beauty in you.
i can.
i see it in so many ways.
the peace.
the freedom.
the tranquility.
the poignant, fragile beauty of that one final exhalation.
the gathering of the soul.
the ceremony of...
it's his time.
oh, but he can't appreciate you as i can.
i have no one here, not anymore.
no.
why?
i cannot take life where none exists.
i've seen you in so many places.
you've called my name so many times.
you have worshipped at my altar.
you've walked in my shadow.
seen my reflection in others' faces
and still, it's not enough.
you don't run from my touch.
you seek to embrace it.
but i could no more take you than i could take this table.
for neither of you lives.
i don't understand.
see how he resists me, even now?
he clings to life, for in each second
is the possibility of joy, however often defeated.
even now, this close to me, he's more alive
than you.
i bring you peace.
sleep.
don't be afraid.
i alone will never leave you.
you can't do this.
you can't just leave.
we've been together so much.
that would be cruel.
what do you want me to do?
go and feed the pigeons in the park?
is that living?
i don't have anyone.
don't you understand?
my son... he doesn't need me anymore.
everyone i knew is gone.
my husband, my friends.
they're with you.
you took them away from me
and now you won't even take me.
why?
am i not... am i not good enough?
am i not pretty enough?
i'm sorry i yelled.
please.
stay with me just a moment.
you've got a lot of courage, mrs. Lemay.
dead phone or not,
most folks would have been out of here in a second
as soon as he fell.
he was harmless.
and he was in pain.
well, not anymore.
guess that's what they say, isn't it?
the only two constants being death and taxes?
not always.
have i hurt you?
no.
yes.
how?
it wasn't my intention.
no, it never is.
i've been asking myself the same question.
it's just that one by one,
everyone i knew went away.
they went with you.
i suppose, in my funny way, i became... jealous.
you took them away, and if i couldn't have them,
then i wanted you, too.
so, i began spending all of my time
thinking about you.
and i started to see why they went with you.
it was their time.
i suppose it was.
but there was more to it than that.
i saw it in their faces after they had seen you.
no more pain.
no more weariness.
no sadness, no loss.
only peace.
in the end, you're all we have,
aren't you?
when my husband was dying, he suffered so much
and i couldn't do anything to help him.
but you did.
i remember.
i think it was then
that i began to feel love for you.
after you left...
well, there are quite a number of pain pills in the cabinet
left over from some problem a while back.
i considered taking all of them.
whatever you say,
even you can't stop me from making it my time,
can you?
but i couldn't do it.
not with you.
i suppose it seemed too forward.
i was never very good at being aggressive.
nothing's changed, it seems.
i'm not even very good at...
(very softly): dying.
i've often heard it said among the living:
"there are always possibilities."
take my hand.
now, in this last moment,
are you afraid of me?
oh, no.
where are we going?
where you are most needed.
i'm afraid he doesn't have much time left.
is it... dark in here?
yes, it is.
i'll try to find someone...
no, please, don't go.
it will be all right.
i have to go.
no, please.
i'll be right back.
wait.
better?
i'm sorry.
i'm afraid.
don't be afraid.
i bring you peace
and sleep
and i alone will never leave you.
well, you did fine.
i'm so happy.
incident in a hospital room.
part of the status quo of life and death.
a visitation accompanied
by cold winds and warm hands locked in a midnight embrace
in the twilight zone.