Sudden Silence

She looked as exhausted as I felt.

It had been a rough nine months. Between finalizing the divorce emblazoned with deep betrayal and continuous abuse, selling the house, finding a new house, buying the house, orchestrating the move, purging physical and emotional baggage to close the chapter on an old life and to bravely turn the page on the next chapter, all while keeping my kid’s hearts and heads above the turbulent waters, I was spent. Emotionally. Physically. I didn’t just want to go on this vacation. I NEEDED to go. I had exhausted every last, minute drop of my being to make it this far. I had to regroup, fill my emotional cup, rest my physical body, and take a moment to simply breathe. There were many more challenges ahead I had to tackle in discovering our new normal, and failure was not an option. I had to be ready. I needed this time to get prepared.

“Mom, are you ok?” I asked, watching her bone-wearily slump her 77-year old body onto my couch. She was going to house sit while I was traveling. Between the dog, the cat, and the houseplants, it just made more sense to have a house-sitter than to take the pets to a kennel for boarding. She’d done it before and didn’t mind staying in my house versus her tiny apartment. At least that’s what she told me. In my heart of hearts, I knew she did it because she wanted to help or, more likely, she wanted to feel helpful. She was a retired nurse. Helping was her calling. And since I was Miss I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T and didn’t allow much help, she jumped on the offer whenever it arose.

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “Just getting over something I ate that my body didn’t agree with.” It was a statement she made often; more often, it seemed of late. Her spirit was strong as ever, but her body was starting to lag. I could tell it in the way she walked, in the way she sat, how she struggled to get up out of a chair or into the car. It’s hard to see your mother aging, her body failing. And for the superwoman who was invincible in my eyes, having survived her own nasty divorce and then proceeding to become an outstanding pillar in her community all while single-momming it and raising two young girls to be successful women in their own right, it cast a heavy shadow on my heart to see her vulnerability.

“I can get someone else to come over and watch the pets. You don’t have to stay here.” I countered.

“No. Really, I’m fine. I took a pain pill, and I just need a nap.” She brushed me off, waving her hand in my general direction, which in Mom-speak meant: Go finish getting ready to go.

A good friend had suggested a trip to the Pacific Northwest. He knew I didn’t need just downtime from my required activities. I needed the kind of break and reset that only comes by putting physical distance between you and your current situation. He had planned the whole adventure, so I didn’t have to worry about anything except packing clothes and showing up at the airport. He knew I didn’t have any spare mind cycles, especially ones to spend on myself.

“Ok. But call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, yes. I will. Just let me rest.”

I finished packing and came back into the living room from my bedroom. I stopped and looked at her resting on the couch. I was hoping it was the late afternoon lighting playing a trick on me, but her skin had a pale grey hue like the soft feathers of a bird rather than the beautiful, light golden brown it usually glowed. And even in repose, her face did not relax into the peaceful slumber of an afternoon nap but was pinched tight with deep-felt discomfort.

“Mom?” I whispered, gently touching her shoulder.

“Hmmm?” she responded, blinking her eyes open.

I looked into them, with the shady circle of cataracts gently dividing the deep brown iris from the dark black of her pupils, “You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine. Go on your trip. I’ll be fine. Just need to rest a little,” she assured me.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze, “Ok. Thank you for house-sitting. I love you.”

“You’re welcome. Love you too,” she smiled faintly, placing her thin, wise hand on top of mine.

I left the house with the same trepidation I had when I dropped off my first-born son at daycare around 8:00 am on 9/11/01 and was listening to the radio describe what became known as the 9/11 terrorist attacks. As I was driving away from daycare, a thought kept running in my head, we are going to war, and I’m putting distance between myself and my baby. What am I doing?

I called my sister as I was driving to the airport and asked her to check in with Mom. Not that I needed to. We all three spoke to each other every day anyway. She, of course, said she would. I told her how I didn’t think she looked well, and I was worried. We both agreed Mom’s health was worsening but that Mom being the nurse that she was, was on top of getting in to see the doctor and managing all her medications. My sister said she’d be sure to check in on her extra and to make sure Mom wasn’t snooping around my house, well any more than usual.

I arrived in Seattle late that night and knew it was too late to call and check-in. The next day I had a full day of relaxing adventuring, including kayaking in the Sound and a hike in the woods. Later that evening, before sitting down to dinner, I sent the usual text, “Hi Mom!” eager to tell her about my day in nature. It wasn’t until after dinner that I realized I hadn’t heard back from her yet. It was kind of late back home, so I wasn’t worried. I pinged my sister, “Hey..have you talked to Mom?”

“Yep! She said everything’s fine, and she’s going to bed early,” she relayed. We chatted a bit more, and I told her about my trip so far. She said she was jealous, and we laughed in our comfortable sisterly way. I told her I’d connect with Mom the next morning.

Upon waking the next day, I checked my phone. I was surprised not to see some kind of response back from my mom yet. She was probably at some meeting for one of her many community activities, I thought to myself. She was always doing something, going somewhere, helping someone. She was busier in retirement than when she was working a full-time job as a nurse in the ER!  After a lazy morning, my friend and I headed out to brunch before embarking on the day’s adventures. I texted my mom, “Hi Mom! Everything going ok there?” when I still hadn’t heard from her.  No response. I went old school and called. The phone rang and rang and finally dropped me into voicemail.

“Hey mom, it’s me. Just checking in and making sure everything is ok there. Call me, please!” I spoke into her voicemail. The uneasy feeling I had when I left her at my house the other day had returned. I called my sister again.

“Hey. Have you talked to Mom this morning?” she replied that she hadn’t. I told her I was worried. She repeated my earlier sentiment and thought that she was probably at a meeting or something. “Yea, you’re probably right.” But the trepidation in my gut rose.

I hung up and pulled up my home security feed app and didn’t see anything amiss in the house. I didn’t have cameras everywhere, but all the doors were secure still. I called again. Ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. I pressed End forcefully.

The café was bustling with patrons, and the server approached our table, ready to take our order. I waved her off dismissively, and my friend jumped to cover my briskness, “We’re going to need a few more minutes.” She smiled politely at him and left.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“No. Something’s not right. I can’t reach her. Traci can’t either.”

We sat in silence for I don’t know how long and the server came back. I ordered a basic scramble just to get her out of my face. I don’t know what my friend ordered.

I jumped when my phone buzzed signaling an incoming call; my heart hitched then fell when I saw it was my sister, “Traci?”

“Have you heard from Mom?” she asked, I could hear the concern in her voice as well.

“No.” Her concern fueled my own fears, now running rampant.

“I’m calling the neighbor,” I informed her.

“Ok. Call me back.”

I swiped into my contacts and hit the name of my neighbor and good friend, Karen.

“Hi, Dionn! How’s your trip going?” she answered, and I could hear the smile on her face and imagined her blonde ponytail swinging as she spoke.

“It’s ok, but I need a favor.” I clipped in response.

“Of course, “ she replied quickly, meeting my intensity.

“Can you go outside and see if my Mom’s car is in the driveway still?” I asked.

“Ok…I’m walking out the front door now,” I heard her say and noted the change in background noise as she went from inside her house to outside. “Yep, it’s there. “

“Can you go over and see if she’s ok? Just ring the bell, and if she doesn’t answer, here’s the door code to get inside,” and I rattled off the security code that opens the front door.

“Ok, let me put some shoes on, and then I’ll go. I’ll call you right back.”

I ended the call and waited. My friend looked at me, reaching his hand across the table and just resting it on mine, offering the only comfort he could at the moment. The food arrived, and we moved our hands back to accommodate the hot plates. I looked at my phone, watching the clock change minute after minute.

With each change of the minute digit, my pulse quickened, and it became harder to breathe. It shouldn’t take that long to walk next door and knock on the door. It shouldn’t take that long for Mom to come from the bedroom to the door. It shouldn’t take that long. It shouldn’t take that long! Maybe they were chatting. Mom loved to talk to my friends. Her favorite was to tell unfavorable stories from my youth, the great juxtaposition to the seemingly well-behaved woman I was now. Maybe she was regaling to my friend the story about how when my sister and I were home alone together, my sister had locked me out after a fight between us, and I kicked in the glass door trying to get back in. She always liked to tell that story. Or maybe she was telling her about some crazy event like my dog bringing in a possum last night or getting sprayed by a skunk. Maybe…maybe. It could be any of those things.

Because it absolutely couldn’t be the other thing that was trying to nuzzle its way into my thoughts. The super scary thing that I didn’t even want to consider. The thing that was making me shiver and my arms sprinkle in goosebumps. The thing that was already drawing moisture to my eyes. The thing that had wrapped its filthy, wretched hands around my soul and was squeezing, stealing the air from my lungs. Squeezing. Squeezing.  It absolutely could not. Could. Not.

And then my phone buzzed and Karen’s named flashed on my screen. I grabbed the phone, swiped to answer and slammed the phone against my ear.

“Karen?”

A sniffle. A shaky intake of a breath. A wavering voice.

I was plunged into sudden silence after she finally spoke, “Dionn….”