Mountain Trip
Mom and I drove up to the mountain cabin in Hiawassee on
Monday to check on the new heating/ac unit she had installed. We reached Helen around 5:00 p.m and there was
still a dusting of snow covering the ground. The mountain road between Helen and Hiawassee
was traffic free and peaceful, unlike the "on" season when it is packed
with vehicles bumper-to-bumper taking the curves and dips of the twisty road like
a freight train of coupled cars.
Two whole days of just
me and my mom junkin' in thrift stores, roaming
directionless, eating good food, and relaxing in the evenings tucked away inside
the cabin are almost over. We will head home
tomorrow. This has been a much needed get-away for Mom, but I know that she is thinking
of dad every minute. The conversation has shifted several times to the dreams
her and dad had and how much dad loved this cabin. She has talked of his planned
projects and pointed out places they have visited together. The first night here,
she wore dad's bathrobe; a bathrobe that has been hanging in the bedroom closet
untouched since he wore it in March. That was the last time Mom took him to the cabin, and they had to leave the next day. Dad was up all night thinking someone was trying to break in.
Every twisty
road, every little locally owned restaurant, every ramshackle thrift shop in
the area holds a memory for my mom In fact,
we stopped at an almost hidden away junk shop today because Mom remembered her
and dad once stopping there. I never would have even noticed it on my own. Dad,
like me, loved to go junkin'.
Sad News
While Mom and I were heading into town this afternoon I
received a phone call. My cell phone routes calls through my car's Bluetooth,
so every phone call is heard by every person who is in the car . I answered the phone and the caller informed
us she had bad news. I glanced at mom and her face was virtually washed free of
any color. I could see by the sheer
terror on mom's face that she thought dad had died. I don't think she'd ever
forgive herself if that happened while she was this far away from him
I told the caller
to hold on while I pulled the car into a convenience store parking lot. As soon
as I stopped the car, I informed the caller I was parked and she could proceed.
The caller paused, dragging out the reason for the call with mutterings that
didn't make much sense. She wouldn't get to the reason for the call. My mind was jumping ahead trying to figure out
what had happened and when. Mom didn't say a word and her silence spoke louder
than any words could have. It seemed like the air and peripheral sound hung suspended. The
caller finally blurted out that she wasn't calling about dad. Until that second I don't think I was even aware
that I had been holding my breathe. (After I hung up the phone I thought: if something
had happened to dad this wouldn't have been the person who would have phoned us..
it would have been my husband or the hospital, but people who are in the sudden
grip of "the moment" don't
think rationally). Turned out that it wasn't my dad who had died, but my great
Uncle Jim, very suddenly about an hour before the call. His death was totally unexpected.
Uncle Jim
My Uncle Jim was a good man. A kind man. A gentle man. A retired educator, he
was loved by so many people. He had a warm smile and a wonderful sense of humor. I never heard
anyone say a bad, or even semi-bad word about him. His family has my condolences.
What more can I say? It's not like I can
flip my heart inside out and let my uncle's family see how much a heart can
hurt for them. I wish I could. I cannot fathom how lost they must feel tonight.
They didn't even have time to prepare or say goodbye.
A bit of advice to anyone who finds himself/herself in the position of relaying bad news to those who have a loved one hospitalized long term with a terminal illness: If it is not their hospitalized loved one you are phoning about IMMEDIATELY assure the family members of this fact. No hem-hawing around. No hinting. No beating around the bush. Take a moment to think about what you are going to say when you phone. Do not cause family members of the long term hospitalized/terminally ill any undue stress, if it can be helped. Believe me, they have enough already without your drama.
Advice over.
Last Thoughts Before Sleep
Now mom is sleeping
in the next room and I am sitting alone in the quietness of the night in the
cabin's safe interior. I can feel dad's presence and see his small touches
everywhere I look. It's unsettling to
think he will never set foot here again. I miss my dad with an intensity sometimes
that almost cuts my chest in two. And I will spend the afternoon with him this
weekend. How does a heart put those two pieces
of information into any comprehensible location of logic? It doesn't, believe
me. The heart simply closes down and refuses to ponder the reality of the
situation. Except late at night. Then it opens the door to reality a shadowed
bit and peeks quickly before shutting it again.
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