Leave her alone; it's not time yet

When I ran last Sunday with Sid, I had a feeling that my dad was running with us. The air after a warm rain smelled unusually damp and woody like when I was a kid and would go to the woods to peel pulp with my dad. He died about 5 months ago and I haven’t had many dreams about him or really felt his presence much before. He has never gone running with me and unless he got his amputated leg back in the afterlife, I don’t think it would be something he would come back here to do. But he was there and I mentally told him to go away. I love him and miss him a lot, but I am worried he is coming to convince my mom to join him. She always pretty much did what he wanted.

Earlier that week, my mom had a small stroke that seemed to only affect her speech. When I talk to her now, I feel as though she is being drawn in another direction. She is distant and her affect is flat.

My dad never could fend for himself so I suppose he finds it difficult to live without her in the afterlife, even though the woman he had an affair with (and my mom’s best friend) is there (if there is even such a place).

I usually call my mom twice a day – once on my way to work when I am stuck in traffic and then once after dinner. Last Friday morning when I called her she sounded muffled. “What’s wrong, Ma, you sound funny”, I mentioned. I could hear Jan Tucker on the radio in the background, reading obituaries. Jan Tucker has been on the local news show since I was a kid and it is a focal part of the day for many of the folks that live in Ontonagon County.

“Nothing", she answered. "I am fine". I knew she wasn’t. She is a mother who keeps many secrets from all of us and always has done so. She never says how she really feels either because she doesn’t want to worry us or because she never knew how. This is something I am sorry to have inherited: this feeling that I must never let anyone see me bleed. Her secrets have not ever helped her and I know mine won’t help me either. She won’t give me any more nformation. I want to believe she is okay but I know she isn’t. When I say “goodbye ma”, she doesn’t say her usual “I love you. Talk to you tonight”.

That night when I called her, I wondered if she had been drinking. The slurred speech was worse. She had a drinking problem a year or so ago but has done much better.
“I have a tooth ache” she said. “My mouth is swollen”. I called my sister who lives a block away from my mom. Worried about a tooth abscess, we decided to give her some antibiotics that my sister had. I know this isn’t a good thing to do, but it would be Monday before she could get to the doctor.

On Saturday morning, I called her when I got home from my run. She sounded worse. Her “I’m okay” didn’t fool me. I said “If I didn’t know better I would think you were drunk”.
“I’m not drunk”, she slurred. The words were much slower and seemed to take more effort to get out.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital”.
“Maybe I should", she said. This was not a good sign at all, but it was all I needed. Barb was working so my brother’s girlfriend said she would take her. I knew my mom had had a stroke, even if it was a diagnosis made over the phone by a pediatric nurse.

In that small hospital so far away I could see her all small and sunken into the bed. When I called her she has that stripped- of –all -dignity voice that one gets in the hospital. She sounded so dependent and resigned to whatever would happen. I wondered if I should go and be with her or do I wait till I really need to? Maybe I should go to keep my dad away from her. It can’t be time yet – I am not ready to lose another parent. I don’t want her to give up and I don’t want to let her go.

Still I can feel my dad sniffing around, waiting. Just like when he was alive, he probably needs her for something. “Ma get me some water” or “Ma, can you make me a fried egg sandwich?” or “Isn’t it time for Andy Griffith”?

My dad will probably be out there in the cold early morning air when I go running tomorrow. I am not sure if he will listen to me when I tell him to go away.