We dropped a frantic Benjie off at Isamu’s dojo and raced to the hospital. She was being worked on by the medical team when we got there. They took one look at me and wouldn’t allow me near her. Instead, they put me in a chair and told me to stay put until they called me.
Tears streamed down my cheek, and I was surprised to feel mild contractions begin. It couldn’t be time for the baby to come yet, not now! Mom needed me. And I needed Mom. My mind raced and only two thoughts crossed my mind: I can’t do this right now! I can’t do this without her!
I put my face in my hands and simply prayed.
The contractions eased, and I realized they weren’t labor pains. Probably just Braxton-Hicks. Feeling a bit calmer now, I raised my head and looked around the room. Ryan was conferring with a doctor and they both glanced over to me. The doctor said something to Ryan and he frowned but nodded. He walked over to me and said, “Catie, you need to come with me.”
I stood but my legs felt like they’d been frozen into quickset concrete. I couldn’t move. Instinctively I knew what was going to happen and I didn’t think I could do it. How can you tell someone good-bye when you’re not done with them yet?
“Come on, honey.” He put his arm around me and led me into the room. It had been darkened slightly and the curtains were closed. Oxygen prongs were stuck in her nose. Her eyes were closed, and against her pale cheeks, her closed eyelids looked like bruises. She was covered to the armpits in a snowy white blanket and her face was nearly the same color.
“Mom?” I said, a sob catching in my throat and turning my voice husky. Her eyelids fluttered open and she reached one feeble hand for me.
And then I was at her side, focusing on her face with all my might; that face, so like mine, so dear to me and so fragile, thin and pale now instead of open and smiling.
“Catie, honey, don’t worry,” she said on a whisper.
“I love you,” I whispered back.
“I love you, too. My greatest achievement.”
“Mom, don’t talk. Just relax. Rest.”
“I have to tell you something,” she said, a single tear sliding down her papery cheek.
“What?”
“I don’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. I feel …” her voice drifted away, soft as petals on a breeze.
“Mom?” I asked, my voice rising a bit.
“Love you. Be happy. Take care of … baby. Benjie. Love Benjie. I’ll miss …”
And then she was gone. The heart monitor she was connected to began to hum unbrokenly as her heartbeat fell flat. There was no rushing around, no doctors calling a code and beginning heroic measures to bring her back. She didn’t want that. She had simply slipped away, as gently as if she were drifting to sleep. And the beauty of it somehow managed to swallow up some of the pain I felt.
She no longer felt pain. It was over for her.
But it was just beginning for me, and I wondered how the hell I’d ever learn to live without her.
Chapter 23
Ryan drove me home before he went to retrieve Benjie. Before he left, he helped me into bed and sat by my side while I cried my eyes out. The peace I’d felt at her bedside had worn off, and I couldn’t believe she was gone. It felt like she hadn’t ever even been here. I worried I’d forget the way she laughed, the feeling of her arms around me, the taste of her home cooking. She had only been gone for a few hours, and already I felt like I’d forgotten exactly how she looked when she was healthy. Instead, my mind kept drifting back to the way she looked when she’d taken her last breath.
I cried myself into an uneasy sleep but when I woke up, I felt as though the world was coming down around me. I felt the same way I had when Shelly and Keith’s plane went down. I needed comfort desperately, but Ryan was nowhere to be found. I imagined he’d still be at Isamu’s with Benjie, taking advantage of Isamu’s unfailing wisdom and deep love.
Unthinking, I dialed Gran’s number. I needed someone so badly I was willing to take my chances, even with her. She had to be home, she just had to.
“Hello?”
“Gran, I need you,” I all but whimpered into the phone.
“Caitlin, now isn’t a good time. I have a few women from the gardening club over and we’re discussing next year’s fundraisers.”
“Gran, something awful’s happened, and I need you, please!” I begged on a sob.
“So, she finally showed her true colors, didn’t she? Didn’t I tell you she’d feed you a sob story and rob you blind? She ran off and left you with nothing, didn’t she?” Gran asked snidely. I could picture her looking down her nose at me and the dam broke.
“She’s gone, but it’s not what you think.”
“Of course it’s what I think. Don’t be so gullible, Caitlin. Why, she even sent me a letter before Thanksgiving, telling me she had some awful disease she needed treatment for. Can you believe it? She even resorted to trying to scam me in order to soak us both for everything we have. You’re better off without her.”
“It wasn’t a sob story, you pathetic old witch. She was telling the truth. It was cancer.”
“That’s what they all say. I bet she showed you all sorts of phony test results, too.”
”For your information, Doctor Flynn at Memorial Hospital told me her test results. And guess what? I just left her death bed. She died today. Happy now?”
There was a shocked silence on the line. Gran finally spoke in an incredulous whisper. “She was telling the truth?”
“She fought as hard as she could, but the cancer took her from me today. I hope you’re satisfied. Does it make you feel good, knowing I lost her? The one family member I had who actually loved me? You seem to like making me feel like shit, so this must feel like your lucky day. I was going to ask you to come over. I needed you so badly, but forget it. Forget I called. Lose my number, ok? I hate you!”
I slammed down the phone and sobbed until I thought I’d throw up. My heart ached, my head ached, and my very soul felt as though it was tearing in two. I absolutely could not believe that she would say those things, especially when she had apparently known about my mother’s condition. And I couldn’t believe I’d let her do this to me, but once the floodgates opened, it was impossible to stop.
Ryan came into the room and grabbed me up into his arms. He held me while I cried, smoothing a hand over my hair and down my back. I cried and cried and pounded his broad shoulders with my fists, trying to rid myself of the hateful feelings coursing through me. My stomach hardened and relaxed, and I worried I was so stressed I was making myself go into labor. I made a conscious effort to calm down, to breathe and will away the contractions. I couldn’t have the baby right now. I had funeral arrangements to make.
Eventually, I could speak, even though my breath came through in hiccups and my shoulders heaved with spent sobs.
“I hate her.”
“I know. I’m sorry, honey. Sometimes you just have to let go.”
“Why did it have to be my mom? Why couldn’t Gran be the sick one?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t know if I do or not. It’s not fair. My mom loved me and now she’s gone. Gran hates me, and she’ll probably live forever. I wish Mom had never come here! Why bother when she knew she’d just leave me like everyone else has? Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
“Honey, stop. Quit punishing yourself.”
“Why? Gran does it all the time.”
“Yeah, but you’re better than that.”
“Not according to her.”
“Well, she’s a rude old bitch. Would you rather listen to me or to her?”
“You.”
“There’s my girl. Just relax. Don’t let her get to you.”
“Too late.”
“You want me to go write her a parking ticket?”
That made me laugh, despite the pounding in my head and the pain in my heart. “No, that’s ok. She’d probably just breathe fire on it and turn it to cinders.”
�
��Probably.”
“I’m done, Ryan. I mean it this time. I will not subject myself to her negativity anymore. And I won’t subject our baby to it, either. Can you even imagine the things she’d say to our baby if she had the chance?”
“I don’t think she’d do that.”
“Really? Because I know she would. She’d spend hours telling our baby how much of a screw-up I am and how little money you make. She’d finish off by berating the one grandparent our kid had that would have actually loved it.”
“Ok, you’re probably right. So, you’re done.”
“Absolutely.”
“Feel better?”
I did, after making the decision to walk away. Isamu was right. Hell, Willie Nelson was right. You did have to know when to hold ‘em, and you had to know when to walk away. I was walking away. I just hoped she wouldn’t follow.
Chapter 24
The day of the funeral, a freak snowstorm dropped fourteen inches of snow on the cemetery. Since I was so clumsy with my huge belly and swollen ankles, Ryan insisted on making me sit in a wheelchair. He’d called our OB/GYN and borrowed a chair from their office after speaking with her about whether or not I should be allowed to attend the service. My blood pressure had spiked again and it wasn’t determined I’d be allowed to go until she’d examined me and made me promise to come back afterwards and stay overnight for observation.
I would have agreed to anything. I had to be there to lay my mother to rest. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I missed it.
The church was filled with mourners who had come to pay their respects to my mother. Every single police officer in Pittston had come in full uniform and they made an unbreakable black line behind the rows of pews. Kelly and Heidi stood behind me and handed me tissues when I needed them. Isamu was in attendance, somber in a dark grey suit. He clutched Benjie’s hand and held him when he dissolved into tears during the eulogy Ryan delivered.
I felt tears spring into my eyes as I listened. A lot of times, people who speak at funeral services don’t seem to really know anything about the deceased. They make mention of some stupid, meaningless bible story and forget there’s a person in the casket who lived a full, rich life filled with wonderful memories. Ryan seemed to touch upon everything that was important to my mom and me, speaking at length about our first meeting and how well we meshed together. He spoke of her acceptance of him and our family, and how much Benjie adored her. He spoke fondly of her smile, her gentleness and good humor, her giving nature and indomitable zest for life. He spoke from the heart. I had never loved him more.
When he was done speaking, the funeral procession moved to the cemetery where we had a bad moment. Benjie had been standing with Isamu in the front of the crowd of mourners and when he saw the casket, closed and carried by Ryan and some of his closest policeman friends to her final resting place, he lost it.
“You put Grammy in a box! No! She doesn’t like it in there! I don’t want you to put her in a box!”
He raced to the pallbearers and started fighting them. Isamu grabbed for him and tried to pull him off, but he clung to Danny’s pant leg with one hand and started clunking him in the shin with his other one.
“No!” he screamed, fighting in earnest.
Danny looked around and motioned for Chad, our EMT friend, to take over as pallbearer and crouched down to pick Benjie up. Benjie struggled and howled like a Tasmanian devil, throwing punches and kicking. One lucky shot got Danny in the eye, but he handled it well, wrapping his arms around Benjie’s until he stopped moving.
“Don’t put her in the ground in a box!” He slumped against Danny and sobbed into his collar. I looked on from my seat in the wheelchair and burst into tears when I thought back to when Nancy told Benjie we’d put him in a box and forget about him when we moved. The poor kid.
Ryan and the other men placed the casket on the dais and Ryan collected his son from his partner. “I’m sorry, man. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Poor guy. This is really hard,” Danny said, a strangled, choked-up sound in his voice. He walked over to me and bent over to give me a hug. “I’m so sorry, Catie.”
“Thanks, Danny.”
Ryan carried Benjie over to a small patch of bushes about fifty feet away from the gravesite, and we were able to lay Mom to rest without further incident. At the end of the gravesite service, Isamu pushed me forward in the wheelchair and I placed a magnolia, Mom’s favorite, on her coffin. I sat there for long minutes, just thinking of her and how she’d touched everyone here. And now she was gone.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and my heart felt like it was shattering. I had no idea how intense pain could be. I felt absolutely decimated, burnt to ash from the inside out. I was an empty shell of my former self, once more that little girl who had lost her family. I’d come so far only to be dumped squarely back to where I started.
But I wasn’t back at the beginning. I had my men, my own family, and they were headed my way right now. Ryan held Benjie’s hand and they walked slowly together, and my heart constricted again at the sight of my husband being a wonderful father. I held my arms out to my stepson, who looked a bit wild in the eyes yet, but quiet and contrite. He flung himself into what was left of my lap and cried his little heart out. “I miss Grammy,” he said pitifully.
“Me, too, buddy. Me, too.”
Ryan stepped behind me and turned the wheelchair to take me home, and it was then that I saw her.
Gran.
She was wearing a heavy black coat, black pantyhose, and black high-heeled boots. She was holding a handkerchief and she dabbed her eyes before walking toward me.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice choked with tears. She gazed down at my stomach and held out one hand, almost as though she wanted to touch it, to feel the life shifting even now within me.
“Thank you,” I said stiffly.
“No, I mean it. I’m sorry. Can I please come over? I’d like to talk to you.”
“Well, actually, I was headed to the hospital. My blood pressure’s up, so my doctor wants me in for observation tonight,” I added, noting the uncharacteristic concern in her eyes.
Ryan spoke. “Of course, you could always come to the hospital with us. Benjie and I were going to go visit his puppy’s parents for a little bit, and I’m sure Catie would be grateful for some company.” Ryan smiled at Gran and her eyes met mine. Incredibly, it seemed as though she was asking me for permission.
I shrugged. “Sure. Let’s go. I’m cold.”
“I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
I nodded and we made our way home to get my overnight bag. During the ride home, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the window. I felt as though I’d run a marathon. The strain of the day was taking its toll on me physically. Every time I thought of Mom, I wanted to slide down in my seat and cry like a baby. Benjie was having a rough time too, still hiccupping with sobs in the back seat. Ryan was quiet, giving us time to simply settle. I took some deep breaths and forced myself to think of anything other than the fact that I had just buried my mother. Instantly, my thoughts turned toward Gran and her sudden re-emergence in my life. Why was she there? What could she possibly want this time? Did she want to kick me while I was down? I wouldn’t have put it past her.
I sat in the car while Ryan retrieved my bag and we drove to the hospital in silence. Benjie had fallen asleep on the ride home and Ryan decided he’d drop him off at Isamu’s and stay with me at the hospital for a while to make sure I was settled in. We registered and he wheeled me upstairs. After helping me into a gown and into the bed, he gave me a hug and kiss and told me to close my eyes. The bed was terribly uncomfortable, but I was so drained, I knew I could have slept on a bed of nails.
My eyes had just drifted closed when I heard a knock at the door. “Caitlin, are you awake?”
“Yeah, come on in.”
Gran entered the room, her boots making a hollow clicking noise on the linoleum floor. She paused at the sid
e of the bed, as if uncertain of herself and what she should do.
“Would you like me to come back later? I know you’ve had a long day, and you look tired.”
My eyes filled again at her uncustomary concern. “No, you don’t have to leave. I’m just wiped out. It’s been a hard few weeks.”
“Yes, it seems like it has. Your stepson and your mother, they were close?”
“Yeah, he loved her so much. They took to each other right away, and this has been really hard on him.”
“On you, too.”
“Yeah.”
I struggled to a seated position and I flinched a bit when Gran helped boost me up. I wasn’t used to her doing things like that, and I wondered once more what she wanted.
“I’d like to tell you something, if you’d let me.”
“Sure. You don’t need my permission. You’ve never asked for it before,” I said in a small attempt at humor.
She didn’t smile. She merely looked in my eyes and said, “You’re right. I suppose I’ve been a hard woman. You deserved more than that.”
The person I was a year ago wouldn’t have been able to say what I said to her next. “I did, but it’s done now. It’s over. No use reliving the past.”
The last thing I wanted to do was discuss this stuff with her right now. Not after burying my mother and watching my stepson fall apart. I couldn’t bear more pain tonight. I really couldn’t. My whole body ached and I was sure it was grief manifesting itself as physical pain. Stress wreaks havoc on muscle.
She shook her head. “It’s all I’ve been doing. I’ll admit it. I’ve been living in the past for years now.”
“I won’t deny that.”
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about Maria. The mail I told you about the day you moved into your new house? It was from her.”
“It was?” I was mystified. All this time I thought it had been from Michael, my ex-boyfriend. Why would my mom write to her? I glanced at Gran’s face and was surprised to see something suspiciously like pain on it. Tormented pain. Strange, coming from a woman who prided herself on her toughness.
Holding On (Hooking Up) Page 15