5 Days in April - Day 5

April 12, 1998

Mom slept as bad that night as she had good the night before. Her breathing was rough and congested, and she got up at least once an hour, sometimes to go to the bathroom and sometimes just to sit on the edge of the bed. When she got up for good at 6:45 a.m. she was exhausted. I helped her downstairs and she sat at the kitchen table while I got her some pain pills. After she took them she put her head down on the table, ignoring the small pillow I had placed there for her to rest her head on. She was a pitiful sight and I hurt for her with all my heart. A few minutes later she got up, with much effort, and got a cigarette. The very act that put her in the place she was now. Her doctors had told her that if she continued to smoke, her lungs would get irritated and congested and she would die a harder, more painful death. I couldn't believe that she wanted to smoke as badly as she felt. I was furious with the tobacco companies. I hoped a few of those rich cats would smoke one too many of their death sticks and get a taste of what mom was going through. After she finished her cigarette, she wanted to go upstairs and get dressed right away. Her housekeeper was coming that morning and she wanted to be dressed when she arrived. She didn't want to slow down on the cigs, even if it meant sparing her the agony of a more painful death. But she wanted to get dressed for her maid. I fought back my tears, knowing that if she was going to give up cigarettes in order to live longer, the time to do it had been thirty years ago, after daddy died. Or maybe twenty years ago, after the link between cigarette smoking and early death and heartbroken families was firmly established. Maybe back then, but not now. That choice had been made. Now we were on a train barreling down the track as fast as it could go. Driven by an engineer that had neither brakes nor a desire to use them.

I helped mom upstairs, waited while she took a sponge bath, and helped her get dressed. We went back to the kitchen, where she lit another cig while I made her a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. I watched mom puff away and my sadness grew to immense proportions. There were millions of monkeys on millions of backs all over the world. There just happened to be one on my mother's back. And neither she nor I nor anyone else could pry it off. Mom was just a host to the parasite tobacco. Even as she was dying, she had to feed the parasite. That was the way of nature.

Nellie Jean arrived just before 8:00. Ruby was still asleep, which was good since she had a long haul in front of her. I wouldn't be able to come back until Raina had the baby, which would, according to her due date, be from three to five weeks. As soon as the baby was born, I planned to return. And as soon as the baby was old enough to travel, which would be at least two weeks after she was born, we would all three come to Cheraw. All I wanted at that point was a picture of my sweet mother with her granddaughter. I wondered if I would ever see such a picture.

While I was cleaning up, mom said "honey, I hate to see you go." "Me too, mom," I replied, "it's going to break my heart." "It's going to break mine too," she said, coming as close to talking about emotions as she was able to come. I knew that she too was wondering if this was goodbye for a few weeks or forever. I walked up behind her and rubbed her shoulders and kissed her head. "I love you with all my heart, mom. I am proud of you and I am proud to be your son." She put her hand on mine, but said nothing. There was no need. We both knew the stakes. After a few moments, I continued cleaning the frying pan and she went back to her breakfast.

Ruby got up just before 9:00 and came downstairs. She looked tired and sad, even after a decent night's sleep. We talked for a bit then she went out on the porch and sat down in the rocking chair. There is a hummingbird feeder just outside the porch and you have a great view from the rocking chair. I looked out there in a bit, and noticed that she was crying. I walked out on the porch and put my hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter?" I asked. "The same old thing," she answered. I knew mom and Ruby would leave for Florence, for mom's radiation treatment, in about 45 minutes. I would leave for the airport in Charlotte at around 11:00, a little over an hour after they left for Florence. I felt like a condemned inmate. Time was passing too fast. It was as close as I'll ever have to an out of body experience. It was like I was an observer. Watching myself spend the last few minutes with my mother while the sands fell quickly through the hourglass. I looked at my watch. 35 minutes to go. "We need to leave soon," mom called to Ruby from the kitchen. She was ready to go. I could almost feel time accelerate. 20 minutes to go. Ruby was on the phone with Erin. Mom was walking around from the den to the living room to the kitchen and back again. My stomach was churning. 15 minutes. Ruby was getting dressed and ready to go. Now my head was starting to spin and I felt like I might throw up. I sat down for a moment to gather myself. Five minutes to go. "Ruby we need to leave," mom was getting very impatient. Ruby went down and got a car, and pulled up in front of the house. I walked mom out the front door and down the steps. Through the yard and into the front seat. She was trembling. I got a sweater out of the back seat and we put it on her. I knelt beside her. "I love you mom," the tears were burning my eyes like cyanide in a gas chamber. "Help me get this sweater on," she said. "OK, there," I said as I put her other arm through the sleeve. Again, "I love you mom," the tears flowing now. "I love you too," she said. I stood up slowly, closed the car door and watched them pull away. As they drove off Ruby waived and said goodbye. Mom couldn't see me but Ruby must have told her I was waiving because she waived a long waive goodbye. My last image her hand waiving in the sun that shined through the window. In an instant they were gone. Mom had left. I remained in her front yard. At her house, full of the memories of a lifetime.

I walked back inside, my mind blank with emotion. I sat down in mom's chair. I smelled the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and allowed myself to miss it for a few seconds. Plato jumped into my lap and meowed at me. One orphan to another. As if he were saying that if he could find a home, maybe I could too. "Maybe, my friend," I said to him as I stroked his back, "maybe one day I will."




© 1998 Kent Newsome