Despite the undercurrents that were inescapable, I’d never had a better Christmas. We were together, and that in itself was a precious gift. When we went to bed that night, my heart was full of love and happiness, and I was truly grateful for the gift I’d been given: a family to love.
Chapter 21
On December 27th, the hospital called and scheduled some aggressive treatments for Mom, ones that required an indeterminate hospital stay. I drove her to the hospital myself while Benjie was at school and Ryan was at work. On the way, I tried to make some sort of small-talk, but I found it was very tough to let go of all the pain inside me. I think she realized it and made her own effort to converse freely.
“Catie, when I go into the hospital, I want you and Ryan to take Benjie someplace fun, like to a movie or an arcade or something. He needs to feel like things are alright again. I think it would be good for him. For all of you, actually.”
“What are you, a therapist now?” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. It seemed like every time I spoke to her now, there was an accusatory undercurrent I couldn’t control.
“No, but I am a forty-seven year-old woman who’s learned a thing or two about life. I speak from experience.”
I laughed bitterly. “Since when did you have to take a kid’s mind off his grandmother’s illness?”
“Not a kid. Myself. My mom died of breast cancer three years ago.”
“Oh, god. I’m sorry,” I said, gulping once as the now-familiar tears spurted out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I was so tired of wiping away tears.
“Stop the car, ok? I want to talk to you.”
I pulled over next to a small park that had some wooden benches situated next to green copper statues of various men who were important to the city for various things. I turned to face her and said, “What do you want to talk about?”
“No, let’s go sit. It’s a nice day.”
“It’s twenty degrees and the benches are covered in snow.”
“Humor me. I haven’t had too many chances to enjoy snow, growing up in Florida. I want to experience everything I can.”
I eyed her dubiously, but agreed and escorted my mom, who seemed so much more frail than she did even two weeks ago, to a nearby bench. She was panting from the exertion by the time we’d settled onto the bench, but she looked around and smiled gamely. “This is nice.”
“And cold. This can’t be good for you.”
“Catie, it’s not like it’s going to do anything worse to me than the cancer has.”
I quailed a bit at the C word. I hated it. I wished I could erase it from the dictionary, ban it from our household, simply forget I ever heard it.
“Honey, you’ve got to accept it. I’m dying. All the treatment in the world isn’t going to change that.”
I shook my head and insisted, “There’s hope. There has to be. You have to have a positive attitude. That goes a long way toward the healing process.”
“Not always. Honey, I thought positive a year and a half ago when I found out I had cancer. I thought positive the first time I went in for surgery to remove the tumors they found. I thought positive when I went through chemo and radiation the first time. But all the positive thinking in the world isn’t going to change this.”
“Then why go through the treatments? Why put yourself through it?”
“Because I made you a promise. I told you I’d hang on as long as I could. I’m going down swinging, Catie. For you. I waited so long to come and see you, and I regret not doing it sooner. But I thought I had more time. We always think we have more time, until we don’t. Then we spend the rest of what we have thinking about what we should have done, back when we had the time.”
“I’m just not ready to let you go, Mom. I just found you. I wanted longer, and I hate myself for being so selfish.”
“Not selfish. Never. You’re a wonderful woman, and I’m glad I got to know you when I did. You’re an amazing mother to Benjie, and I know you’ll be a wonderful mother to the new baby. And it makes me feel good to know that even if I didn’t raise you myself, you still came out right. You’re the legacy I’m leaving to the world, and if I do say so myself, my finest achievement.”
“Mom, I love you so much. I can’t bear to lose you. I just can’t. I need you.” I gathered her close and sobbed into her winter coat. Her body felt so small and fragile under the thick down, and it hit me again just how sick she really was.
“You need me less than you know. You’ll be fine, and I know it. I’m at peace. But I know you’re not. You need to come to terms with it. You have to try.”
“I know. But I don’t think I can.”
“You are stronger than you think. When the time comes, you’ll be ready. And speaking of that, I had a will drawn up. I have two bank accounts up here at Lyon Bank, and you’re the beneficiary for both. When I found out that I was terminal, I contacted my life insurance carrier and they allowed me to take out the face value of my policy to settle my affairs. I used some of the money, but the bulk of it is still there, and it will be more than enough to pay any of my final expenses, like what the health insurance didn’t cover.”
Suddenly I knew where the money for the down-payment on the new house came from. “You used your life insurance on my house, didn’t you? That was the wise investment you kept talking about,” I said slowly, unsure of how I felt. It seemed so wrong to start my future with her desinence. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, it was. I wanted to make sure you got that money, and that you’d do something positive with it. I know you, Catie, and I know you would have just let it sit there if I didn’t step in and offer the money for the house. I wanted you to have something good, something you could build a life with. And a way to remember me. I’m sorry if you feel like I deceived you, but I did it for the very best of reasons. Anyway,” she said briskly, “come on, I’m cold now and we’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“Mom? Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“No apologies are necessary. Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
“Now you sound like Isamu. He likes to quote proverbs.”
When we got to the hospital, we checked her in and I made sure she was comfortable before I left. The treatments were scheduled to begin the following morning, and I wanted her to rest and save her strength for the ordeal that was yet to come. Our interlude in the park seemed to have drained her and I regretted allowing her to sit there in the park in the cold.
On my own now, with two hours before I had to be home for Benjie, I went to Isamu’s dojo. I felt cold and numb, yet filled with unbearable pain. The baby kicked me continually, as if he or she was also feeling the strain, and the only place I could think of to go for some comfort was to Isamu’s place.
Isamu was in the middle of a class when I arrived. The students were young, perhaps six or seven years old. They were adorable in the little gis, white belts tied firmly around their waists. A few of them frowned as they concentrated on the kata they did as a group, and one, obviously a star pupil, led the others in the movements.
“O teishi,” Isamu said. It was a word I’d heard hundreds of times in the past. It was the command to stop. The little boys obviously knew what he meant and as one, they straightened up, bowed to Isamu and the leader of the kata, and stood in neat rows, awaiting his next command. I was impressed at the control those boys displayed, the firm grasp of leadership Isamu had on his little charges.
He dismissed them quietly, praising each of them as they left the room. One little guy threw his arms around Isamu’s waist and beamed up at his sensei. “Thanks, Isamu. I’ll see you next week.”
“Have a good day, my son. You did well today.”
The boy beamed again and scampered off.
“Your son?” I asked with a smile.
“He has no one. His foster family thought he would benefit from some structure and a release for his energy. He is a good boy.”
I smiled. Isamu was, I
knew, the patron saint of lost little kids. He had helped to heal me, and it was obvious he had another little soul to save.
“I love you, Isamu. My father.”
He smiled at me and said, “I love you too, my daughter. What brings you here today? How is Mother?”
I crumpled then, and he ushered me to the teak benches along the far dojo wall. I sat down heavily and sobbed. He let me finish, studying me silently the whole time. When the storm had finally passed, he regarded me for another moment, then spoke.
“I am very sorry to see your pain.”
“She’s going to leave me, too. Just like everyone else.”
“She is not leaving you, Caitlin. She will leave this earth, but not your soul. There is a difference.”
“I’d rather have her here on this earth.”
“Does Grandmother know?”
“Gran and I don’t speak anymore. The last time I tried to talk to her, she accused Maria of being a gold digger and accused me of being impulsive and ruining my life. I can’t talk to her about anything without her judging me or making rude comments.”
“Grandmother is afraid, I think. She does not want to be unneeded. She is used to being the only female in your life. She feels threatened.”
“Grandmother is a right bitch who needs to learn to keep her mouth shut and quit being so stinking judgmental.”
“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” Isamu said gravely.
“That’s not a Japanese proverb.”
“No, but it rings very true.”
“I know. It’s hard to let go.”
“Caitlin, it is wise to spend as much time letting go as we spend holding on.”
“I’m just not ready.”
“Some people are only meant to stay with us for a time. They enter our lives, leave their mark, and then they move on. It’s not that they mean to leave us with sorrow. It’s that they accomplish what they were meant to.”
“But I don’t want her to leave. I’m not ready to let her go yet. I was so happy she was with me. I had it all.”
“You must learn that tears deepen a smile. We cannot learn true happiness without experiencing true sorrow.”
“I know. But I’m still not ready.”
“What else is troubling you?”
I sighed heavily. “Nothing, really. It’s just that everything is changing. We just bought the house, and then Mom got sick, so we moved her in with us. Benjie had just seemed to accept the baby and then Mom got sick, and now he’s misbehaving again, and I’m not talking to Gran anymore. Everything is different. I feel like everything is falling apart. I don’t even feel like I have the right to be happy about the baby or the house, not with all the bad stuff happening.”
“What does Ryan say about all this?”
“He’s been great, but we haven’t had a chance to spend any real time together since my Mom got sick. And I know he’s concerned about Benjie, too. I feel like I’m neglecting both him and Ryan to take care of my mother. What do I do?”
“Daughter, you have many things going on, but you are strong. You will find a way to put your house in order. I have faith in you.”
It was essentially what Mom had said. “Thanks, Isamu. I wish I did.”
He stood and gave me a shallow bow. “I must prepare for my next class. Yellow belts. They are learning much and will be able to advance soon. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”
I sat for a while, mulling my sensei’s latest bit of wisdom. I had experienced a lot of sorrow in my life, it was true. Wasn’t it my turn at true happiness? Why did the sorrow just keep on coming? Why did fate feel the need to test me every single time I thought I had things figured out?
Well, sitting here wasn’t making the answers come any clearer, and my family needed me. I had to go home and tend to them.
Driving home in silence, I pondered my life and the many changes that had taken place in such a short time. I recalled the wonderful feelings I’d felt when I first laid eyes on my mom, how happy I was when I found out I was pregnant, how wonderful it felt to be adored by my little stepson. I also always knew where I stood with Isamu, and that was firmly within his family. Yes, I had known sorrow, but the happiness far outweighed it.
I’d get through this. And I’d see my mom through it, too. We’d prove those doctors wrong. There were stories on the news all the time about people who defied the odds and walked away from incredible catastrophes. When the will to survive was strong, there was nothing that could stand in the way.
And hell, while I was at it, I’d lavish Benjie with even more love and show him just how special he was. I’d fix him, too.
I’d also start spending more time with Ryan. He deserved a lot more attention. He’d been so good with everything that had happened, and it was time I showed him just how grateful I was for him.
And as for Gran, well, good luck with that. Sometimes, you had to accept that a lost cause was just that. I might have felt capable of anything right at that moment, but moving mountains was a little out of my league.
Humming a little, I picked up the pace and drove home. It’s funny how much better I always felt after spending time with my father-figure and mentor. He was the wisest man I knew, and I was lucky to have him.
Chapter 22
Mom’s procedures didn’t exactly go smoothly and it was two weeks before she was able to come home. She looked like she’d been through a war, fighting for the losing side. She looked truly awful and her skin had taken on a translucence that worried me. Her hair grew brittle and even grayer and clumps fell out whenever she brushed it.
Her body ached all the time and the nausea was nearly unbearable. I’d walk past the bathroom and there she’d be, sitting on the ground with her face hovering over the toilet bowl. Probably the most disturbing thing, however, was the blood she spat into the toilet after every heave. I did my best to be there for her and take care of her, but I was so exhausted from carrying my burden that I wasn’t much help. Ryan, bless him, had been a rock, bringing Hospice in for Mom to help her do things she couldn’t do on her own anymore, like showering and moving up and down the stairs. They even helped me when Ryan wasn’t home. When he was home, I watched him lavish the best of care on my mom and felt my heart fill near to bursting with love.
She was so weak she could barely even shuffle from room to room. The bright, vivacious woman she had been was gone. In her place was a woman who looked old before her time, wasting away with every passing day.
Two weeks into January, Mom slept late. I attributed it to the hustle and bustle of the holidays. She’d overdone it, but since we weren’t allowed to discuss her health anymore, we hadn’t been able to question her or suggest she take it easy. And honestly, she had looked good over the past few days. Yes, she’d still been ill and wan, but there was a spark in her eyes, a little flicker of life that had been missing before. She looked alive again, and deep in my heart, I’d even thought she was getting better. I’d foolishly thought that maybe Santa had given me a belated gift, the present I’d wanted most: my mother, with me forever.
It was Hospice’s day off and she had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for eleven. It wasn’t like her to sleep late. By ten o’clock, I got worried that she’d miss her appointment, so I went up to get her. There was no answer at her bedroom door, and I knocked louder, thinking she was sleeping unusually heavily.
There was still no answer and it occurred to me that she might have already gotten up and left when I was in the bathroom taking a shower. I called for Ryan. “Did you see Mom leave this morning?”
“No, her car is still in the driveway. She’s not answering your knock?”
“No. I think I should go in there. Wait here in case she’s getting dressed or something.”
I opened the door and peeked inside. With a shriek, I lumbered to the right side of the bed. She was lying on the floor, unconscious.
Ryan ran inside and crouched down beside her. “She’s not breathing. I’m going t
o start CPR. Call the ambulance.”
He began chest compressions as I dialed 911 with shaking fingers. Benjie must have heard the commotion because he came into the room and started crying as he saw Ryan working on his grandmother.
“Stop, Daddy, you’re hurting her! Stop it!” He was screaming and I couldn’t get him to calm down. My heart was beating out of my chest and the baby felt like it was doing flips inside me. I grabbed Benjie to me and backed out of the room. I couldn’t bear to watch the scene unfolding before me.
The ambulance seemed to take forever. Benjie cried the whole time, pushing against me, trying to get back to Mom’s side. I couldn’t let him do it. I didn’t dare let him go back in there, afraid of what he’d see. I didn’t want to see it, either.
When the ambulance arrived, they took one look at my mother, still being worked on by Ryan, and loaded her onto the stretcher. “Bag her,” one said to another, and for a minute I worried that he was talking about a body bag. But he pulled out an oxygen bag and strapped it onto my mother’s face and took over CPR while his partner started an IV.
Ryan walked down with the stretcher, performing chest compressions on the fly, talking the whole time about her medical history. I watched, numb, as they loaded her up into the ambulance and took her away.
“Come on. I think we need to be there.” Ryan looked at me with grim eyes. As a cop, he’d seen this type of incident before. He’d even told me before that dying people had a special look to them, like they were hovering between two worlds. One foot over each threshold, I think he’d called it. As I searched his face, I knew he thought my mother had that same look about her. My legs buckled and the ground came up to meet me. Thankfully, Ryan seemed to have anticipated my faint, and he caught me before I hit the ground. I shook my head as the world turned gray, but I recovered quickly. I couldn’t fall apart now. Mom needed me.
Holding On (Hooking Up) Page 14