I pulled my shirt on and backed toward the door. “I’m leaving unless you take it back.”
He didn’t.
He also didn’t stand in his bedroom window to wave goodnight tome.
While I stared at his dark window, I began to think of my best friend, my everything, as someone more. If only I had recognized what was happening to me. If only.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Mike
Marie visited with Mom for more than an hour. I remained in the kitchen listening to muted whispers of their distant conversation, unable to make out the words they exchanged. I rested my cheek on the cool marble island, staring out the French doors to the backyard. The weather was sunny and life was going by as life always does, regardless of what you’re going through. I wanted time to slow down or better yet stop so Mom’s imminent death would be delayed, but that wasn’t how the world functioned.
Marie suddenly appeared in the kitchen and cleared her throat, interrupting the quiet. “I have to leave now, Mike,” she announced.
I sat up when I noticed her red eyes.
“Everything you need is in the room,” she added.
I nodded, unable to form words.
“Call me if you need anything else or if you just want me to be here,” she added.
I nodded again and struggled to keep my emotions in check
Her job had to suck, and this was a close friend of hers. There was a reason that doctors were advised not to care for family or close friends, but Mom had insisted Marie be by her side. Marie, of course, couldn’t say no to Mom. Who could?
“Close?” I asked.
Marie understood what I meant and nodded, new tears glistened in her eyes before she looked away.
I stood and made my way to her. “Thank you,” I choked out. “Foreverything.” We embraced and I felt her chest heave as she stifled a sob. “I’ll call . . . when . . . well, you know,” I said.
Marie turned away and headed for the front door. She paused and turned around, appearing to have something to add but only shook her head before opening the door and stepping outside.
After the door closed I stood looking around the kitchen wishing Mom was there in her daisy-print apron, fussing over a meal or sharing one of her positive stories about our wonderful world. The house was quiet until a tray of ice dumped into the ice maker’s storage bin, startling me. The fridge, like everything else, kept pace with the passing time. The clocks moved forward one tick at a time, yet I remained frozen in my grief.
I didn’t want to go down the hall to what awaited me. I wasn’t ready and walking into Mom’s room said I was. The doctor was gone. The goodbyes were said and I would be the last attendee to my mother’s final moments. Unlike the surprise of Dad’s death, I would be here for Mom’s. I’d be able to say all the things I wasn’t able to say to my father, yet I wasn’t really sure I preferred confronting death this way.
As I made my way down the hallway I’d breezed through thousands of times before, I paused and took the time to view the family photos that Mom had proudly put up over the years. There were the baby photos of me; some taken by my folks, others done professionally where the photographer added even more blue to my eyes and made my cherub-like cheeks a bit rosier as well.
In many of the photos, Mom and Dad appeared so young, their youthful faces smiling at me as I slowly walked down the hall. My toddler pictures morphed into the organized sports images. Me at six playing T-ball with a beaming Dad who was our coach. Me at eleven with a broken arm from Pee Wee football. Mom tried her darndest to prevent me from playing such a violent sport again but further down the hall were the junior high and high school football pictures that showed she hadn’t been successful in that endeavor.
There were pictures of the homecoming pregame for seniors with Mom by my side at the stadium. Mom came out again and escorted me at halftimefor the crowning of the homecoming king. I’d won and Jennifer was of course crowned queen, happy as hell when she was able to drag me away from Mom and get me to herself for the rest of the pictures. I guess I should have known then that her and Mom weren’t destined to be close.
I paused at the open door to Mom’s room even though the hall of memories continued beyond her bedroom door. There were the ones from college life and holiday family pictures of me, my mom and Jennifer that eventually lead up to our wedding. I recognized the irony of Mom’s door being the divider in my life; telling me that I shouldn’t look further down the hall at my past for directions to my future.
I took a deep breath and glanced at my watch. The time was five minutes to noon on Saturday, August 29th. Before entering her room I noticed a picture of my parents that Mom had hung right outside their bedroom door. I’d walked past it numerous times but I’d never studied the photo. We had visited the Oregon Coast two years before Dad died. I had taken the photo yet never noticed what stood out so clearly in the image that day.
Anyone who has visited the Washington or Oregon coasts knows that the weather is often cool even in the summer, and that the sun can disappear for days behind thick clouds. In the photo, Mom and Dad have their backs to the ocean with their arms entwined while Mom leaned against Dad’s shoulder. Behind the thick clouds the sun was low on the horizon and appeared as a glowing outline of a circle of light. Another bright illumination was centered behind Mom as if she had a halo made of subtle beams streaking from her head into the clouds, framing her happy face. She looked ethereal. There was no other way to describe it.
I spoke to myself, “That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?” The realization that she was indeed a special being filled me with warmth.
“Michael?” she asked from within the room. “Who are you talking to?”
I entered and made my way to her bedside. “Myself, Mom,” I confessed when I reached for her hand. “I was admiring the picture of you and Dad at the beach.”
“Can you bring it to me?” she asked. “That one is my favorite. How about we place it here on the dresser so Dad can joinus? His presence always invigorates me.”
“Good idea,” I admitted, heading for the door. I retrieved the framed photo and propped it up on the dresser at the foot of the hospital bed.
