2018.JUL.24.
"No." she said. "Your MOTHER has gone to be with Jesus."
She went on to convey the little bit of information she had, explaining that Mom had been receiving chemo-therapy in Salt Lake City. She had slipped into a coma and died three days later. It was the first I had heard of the hospital stay. That wasn't unusual. Mom had been undergoing treatments for CLL leukemia for a while. I was far away, and not getting news from home very regularly.
The Jesus reference was throwing me off. Unlike my grandmother, my mother was not a practicing Christian by then. I don't remember her even talking about that religion for many years. I had this weird vision of her being embraced by a stranger in a white robe. Then, I saw her in the arms of her much beloved stepfather. That's where she would rather have been received.
My boss told me that he would drive me back to the office in Sulphur Springs, since it was obvious that I would need to be getting home immediately. The ride back was long and quiet as I tried to wrap my head around the idea that my mother was dead. It wasn't supposed to happen yet. And not like that.
Dad had never been alone before in his life. My siblings had lives with careers and children and grandchildren. I only had me and my dog, and this job, which I hadn't had for very long. I could always find another job. I told my boss that I would probably not be coming back to work. I would need to be closer to home, from then on. He said that he understood, and assured me that I could always come back, whenever I was ready.
Sometime that day, I finally got in contact with my father, who told me that I didn't need to come home. "There is nothing you can do."
Really? (I have just lost my mother. Home, with what remains of my family, is where I need to be. Is this a strange notion?) And so, I went and gathered up my trusty Creeker dog, and my few belongings, which all fit into my van. I decided to do the sensible thing and take the time to get a tune-up and oil change at Jiffy Lube before starting out on the long journey home. Couldn't afford any problems along the way. They kept trying to sell me extras until I stated with great emphasis, "My mother died this morning. I am just trying to get home to Nevada now. I am not going to buy one more thing!" I guess I looked deranged. They finished the task without further up-salesmanship.
I drove straight through, stopping only for gas and coffee, and a brief nap somewhere off the highway. When I got to Baker, NV, I went into the Border Inn where I had been both a customer and employee over the course of a couple of years before. I wanted to touch base with my old friend, Bill Taylor, who always knew what to say. Maybe I spoke to him on the phone ... exhaustion had set in. I continued on the last leg of my journey back to Cherry Creek. The house was empty, as Dad and my sister were still in Salt Lake, making arrangements. A neighbor saw my car come into town and came to rescue me, offering me the guest room at his place.
I crashed until the next day, when Lynne and our dad arrived home. I don't remember that much about the following days. I think my sister stayed in Cherry Creek for a couple of days. My brother took Dad at his word, "You don't need to come home. There is nothing you can do." We didn't see him until the memorial service, months later.
Dad had never been alone before in his life. My siblings had lives with careers and children and grandchildren. I only had me and my dog, and this job, which I hadn't had for very long. I could always find another job. I told my boss that I would probably not be coming back to work. I would need to be closer to home, from then on. He said that he understood, and assured me that I could always come back, whenever I was ready.
Sometime that day, I finally got in contact with my father, who told me that I didn't need to come home. "There is nothing you can do."
Really? (I have just lost my mother. Home, with what remains of my family, is where I need to be. Is this a strange notion?) And so, I went and gathered up my trusty Creeker dog, and my few belongings, which all fit into my van. I decided to do the sensible thing and take the time to get a tune-up and oil change at Jiffy Lube before starting out on the long journey home. Couldn't afford any problems along the way. They kept trying to sell me extras until I stated with great emphasis, "My mother died this morning. I am just trying to get home to Nevada now. I am not going to buy one more thing!" I guess I looked deranged. They finished the task without further up-salesmanship.
I drove straight through, stopping only for gas and coffee, and a brief nap somewhere off the highway. When I got to Baker, NV, I went into the Border Inn where I had been both a customer and employee over the course of a couple of years before. I wanted to touch base with my old friend, Bill Taylor, who always knew what to say. Maybe I spoke to him on the phone ... exhaustion had set in. I continued on the last leg of my journey back to Cherry Creek. The house was empty, as Dad and my sister were still in Salt Lake, making arrangements. A neighbor saw my car come into town and came to rescue me, offering me the guest room at his place.
I crashed until the next day, when Lynne and our dad arrived home. I don't remember that much about the following days. I think my sister stayed in Cherry Creek for a couple of days. My brother took Dad at his word, "You don't need to come home. There is nothing you can do." We didn't see him until the memorial service, months later.
Had I known ... Had anyone told me then, that I would still be here fourteen years later, I think I might have made a different decision that day. But here I am. Here we are.
No comments:
Post a Comment