The Beginning Of The End
Donna Carmona

 

“The Beginning of the End” by Donna Carmona

Where do I begin, and how shall I finish? Ah…. These are the questions everyone asks, and no one can answer. Yes, I’m just one of the many stories that resonate and somehow surface. Whether you care to listen or not, is your choice, but my direction seems clear. I have to tell my story. I guess I’ll just start at the beginning.


It was just an ordinary day at work. I was in the middle of trying to close a large deal, and had to explain the details to my manager. Yes, you guessed it, I’m in sales. I knew I had a long drive that evening, and some unpleasant circumstances to deal with, but I had made up my mind that everything was going to have a happy ending. I’d packed my bag before I left for work that morning, and brought extra clothes because one never knows how these things will go. And, if anyone can say anything about me, it was that I would always be over-prepared.


At the end of my drive, waiting for me was my mom and dad. Mom had bought a new couch, and was anxious for me to give my opinion…I don’t know why. She had already told dad I wouldn’t like it. She had also arranged for a gas fireplace to be installed in the living room. My parents were both always cold these days, and the fireplace was going to ensure they were nice and snug all winter.


It was the first day of October, and my sister’s birthday was coming up in a couple of days. I knew she would already be at mom and dads, and I would be spending time with her. I hadn’t bought her a gift yet, but figured I had plenty of time for that. After all, I just needed some little something that would prove I didn’t forget her birthday. My mom brought us up believing that every birthday was special, but at this time and place in life, your expectations were different. It wasn’t like you were going to get your first bicycle.


I was in a good mood, and the drive went well. I was even singing along to some of my favorite songs on the radio. I remember it all very clearly, right down to what I was wearing. It was a pleasant evening, and I drove through KFC to get a bite to eat. I wish I hadn’t now, though. I wish I’d eaten the dinner that mom had wrapped up for me in her fridge. I didn’t know it was the last meal she would ever prepare. I also didn’t know it was her last night to read the paper, and tell us about some goofy steak dinner that was going to be held at the Lion’s Club on Saturday night. I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen.


I arrived, and put my things in the spare bedroom. My sister, Linda, had already claimed the bedroom (it was only a two bedroom house), and I knew I would be sleeping on the new couch (which by the way wasn’t very pretty or comfortable for that matter).


Mom was in good spirits, and dad was in his pajamas already settled into his recliner clipping his toenails… a typical night at the Plummer household. Linda and mom had been shopping that day, and were chattering on about what they’d bought. I went to hang my jacket in the coat closet, but there were no hangers. I specifically remember asking mom why two people needed so many coats and jackets. Of course, she was offended, and was perturbed at me for daring to ask such a question.


Since my dad was always cold, he kept a heavy pair of socks on, and he pulled them up over his pajamas bottoms. He’d ripped the elastic out of the socks, and it made them look like he’d purchased them at the local Goodwill store after someone had worn them for at least ten years. Yes, indeed, it was a first class fashion statement, but then I guess I forgot to mention he was old (and old men can dress however they want). I knew that he had always had problems with elastic around his legs, but being the clever daughter that I am, I made a joke about his socks being raggedy. I said that if they used part of the money for all the jackets that they didn’t wear, they could afford to get dad some decent socks. Again, I succeeded in making my mother angry, and this time she spouted off at me. So, I was there two minutes, tops, and already had my mom wishing (once again) that I’d never been born. That pretty much sums up my relationship with my mom. I was indignant, and she had to put up with me!


Mom offered me dinner, and I told her I’d already eaten. We talked about the fireplace, and I said nice things; things that were expected to be said. I had to make up for my bad start. Mom had a couple of friends call to wish her well. She chattered as though life was going to continue forever at the same pace it was going right that very moment. I heard her humming a tune in the kitchen, and she even sang a chorus of the hymn she was humming. We watched television, and talked about what time we needed to get up in the morning. We needed a plan for an early start to the day. Then we all started getting ready for bed. I think mom got me a pillow and a blanket. I brushed my teeth, and lay awake on the couch until I could hear everyone snoring.


Yep, I suffer from insomnia. Guess when I’m writing this? I remember the bird clock in the kitchen singing out two chirps, and the clock in the living room chiming two. I made a mental note to ask them why in the hell they needed a clock in every room making noise. It was just plain ol’ rude for the person with the good fortune to get to sleep on the couch. Then I remembered that I was the one who bought that God awful bird clock. I never got to ask about the clocks.


I heard the alarm go off in my parent’s bedroom. The last alarm mom would ever reach over and turn off. I heard her get up, put on her robe and head into the bathroom…..I’m also a light sleeper. I could still hear Linda and Dad snoring. I got up and went into the bathroom off of the kitchen in the back of the house. Then we, mom and I, walked into the kitchen from different directions. Neither one of us knew this was the last morning mom would walk into the kitchen. Actually, it was the last morning she was ever going to get out of bed.


I remember we were all pretty quiet on the drive to Springfield. Linda was driving a white Cadillac at the time, and I rode in the front seat with her. I do remember Dad slept most of the way. It was still early, and since they’d retired he’d gotten used to sleeping in. Mom was awake all the way. I remember the process of checking her into the hospital, and I remember what she was wearing. I remember we all held hands after she put on her hospital gown, and prayed for God’s blessing on the doctor who was performing her open heart surgery. I remember mom said that if anything went wrong Linda and I would have to take care of dad. What we didn’t know was how bad everything was going to be. We had no way of knowing.


On Oct. 2nd my mom had bypass surgery, and they also repaired her valve. She knew us afterwards, but was on the ventilator. Two days after the surgery, she stroked and had to be put on a heart pump to be kept alive. She lived for three more months, but never left the hospital. She developed pneumonia after her 8th surgery, and died on Christmas Eve around 8:00 p.m. I watched my mom become a helpless patient. At times she didn’t even know who I was. I watched her die. And, I loved her so much it still hurts. I even loved that damn bird clock, and her ugly couch. There wasn’t much about her I didn’t love.


So ends my sad tale of woe. When mom died, dad lost his will to live, and then something extraordinary happened. He got remarried and disinherited his two daughters, and when he passed he left everything to his new wife of six months.


Life sure has a funny way of turning on you. Be advised that you can’t trust that things will always turn out good. Parents die, and money fades, but life keeps right on going.


Now, let’s look at the other side of the coin. When mom called me about her decision to have heart surgery, I was in Florida visiting my new grand baby, Andrew, right after his birth. Mom never got to see Andrew, but I know she would agree he’s more precious than anything in this life. He’s one of my reasons to get up each morning. Thank you, God, for Andrew! I think God had a plan for Andrew to arrive just in time to take mom’s place in my heart. Andrew is only one of my beautiful grandchildren, but he certainly holds a special place in my heart. When he calls my name, my cup runneth over…..


Surely goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives, and we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever and ever…….

 

 

Copyright © 2007 Donna Carmona
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"