“Mom, I’m here,” I yelled once I stepped inside. I immediately smelled incense burning, something I had endured my entire childhood. It was Saturday and I wondered what today’s scent was and what it meant in Mom’s belief in the otherworldly. “Mom?” I yelled again.
I rounded the corner to the kitchen and found her curled up on the sofa in the adjoining rec-room, wrapped in a heavy blanket even though August was hot with temperatures in the nineties.
“Hey, honey,” she croaked weakly. She tried to sit up but I got to her before she could muster the strength. “You caught me in a weak moment,” she began. “I’m resting up for my next adventure. The marigolds on the patio need to be dead-headed before the blooms get too ugly.”
She loved marigolds and planted them every single year. She’d told me that in many cultures the marigold symbolizes purity, divinity, and the connection between life and death. She regaled me with a story once about how the potent fragrance of them was thought to attract the souls of the departed.“When I die and return, you’ll know it’s me when I mention marigolds,”she’d commented on the phone just last week.
“Still inviting the dead in, are ya?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa and moving her bangs out of her eyes. Her once beautiful blonde hair was stringy and gray in color as if the hair itself had died before her final breath. “Still got your hair I see,” I teased.
“Is that what this hay is?” she responded, tugging on a few strands and checking her fingers. She motioned to a glass of water with a straw in it. “Can you?” she asked.
I lifted the glass and adjusted the straw to her mouth and waited for her to slowly take a drink.
“Now don’t be thinking your momma is done here on this plane, because I’m not.”
“I didn’t say a thing,” I argued.
“Your face says it all, son. I might be a whisper of my old self in this strange shell, but I am still as bold and wise as ever.”
“I think you’re beautiful and wonderful, Mom,” I stated. “A tad koo-koo I might add, but still my mom.”
I reached for a book on her coffee table. The title was ‘Parallel Universes And Your Place In Them’, a typical Mom read for sure.
She thumped the book with a finger. “That book has all the answers, Mikey,” she said. “Now of course, I’ve only known about parallel universes for a couple of years. Most people, you see, well . . . they think they’re having déjà vu when they feel like they’re reliving a familiar moment or a particular scene from their lives, when actually they’re witnessing a tear between the two worldsoftheir lives,” she began.
I pretended I was interested even though I’d dismissed my mother’s ideas about these things years before.
She continued, “What they were blessed to have seen was their other life in one of many universes where they also dwell.”
I turned the book over and saw an image of a woman who looked startlingly similar to Mom. The second time in less than a week that I’d noticed her doppelganger. Perhaps I was already looking for her and she was still here on earth with me. They both shared a kind of ethereal glow about them. Sure, Mom had lost a bit of her luster but her eyes mirroredher deep convictions.
“What do you suppose we’re doing in our other worlds?” I asked. While on the flight from Seattle, I decided that I would be open to listening and sharing my mother’s passion with her while I still had the chance. I knew these ideas were important to her, and since she was important to me, I wanted to participate.
Her eyes lit up as I imagined she was mentally exploring the vast options she’d considered before I’d asked. Her green eyes sparkled and she released a small giggle, reaching for my hand. “That world is incredible, son. Marigolds in every direction. A bright sun is out and I feel warm as I garden outside this very house. Dad is there of course. You and Cooper are shooting basketballs in the driveway. Not much has changed, but I am healthy and Dad is with us.”
“That seems pretty specific, Mom,” I said. “How old are we?”
“That was yesterday,” she said delightfully. “Dad is sixty-one so you and Cooper must be what, going on twenty-eight?”
“And we’re together? Me and Coop?”
“Just like always. Two peas in a pod.”
“I like that world, Mom,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “Now tell me about today’s incense.”
Mom gave me the complete rundown on her latest Japanese incense for divine healing and what the properties of the scent did for one’s mental state as they battled illness. I placed the book about parallel universes back on the table.
“I’d like you to read that when you can, son.”
“I’ll try,” I agreed, starting to stand but she tugged at my arm knowing I was dismissing her request. “I will,” I protested. “I promise even.”
“We have homework to do, so having you read the book is important to me.”
“Okay, I will, but first let’s get you upright and find something to eat.” I leaned over and placed her arms around my neck. “Hold on to me,” I said. Mom scooted closer when I held her closer to me. She weighed nothing and the blanket fell away from her upper body. I was shocked by the reality ofthe situation. Our eyes met and mine filled with tears immediately. “Mom?”
“I know, honey, but let’s not focus on what I look like, okay? Trust me, I am a whole being inside here,” she offered before wiping my eyes.
My mother was wasting away. I’d visited for a weekend three months prior but she’d probably lost another twenty pounds since then. She was a tiny woman even when healthy, but this was too much for me.
