The Last Road Trip

Mom

I lost my mother yesterday.  Cliches and platitudes comfort me no matter what anyone says.  I just don't want to really talk about it.  The redness that stems from my eyes is the only remnant of any effect from the events of yesterday.  I slept for hours yet I'm exhausted.  The noises of the house, and playful giggles in the adjacent rooms pulls me closer to consciousness.  My sister and niece have come here to grieve with my family.  Our kids call her "nana".   My sister and I both have had very different experiences with our mom.   Mom was alway the steady for me.  She was the person I could talk to when life was truly beyond my comprehension.  Even though I seldom did, and regretfully didn't.  She was validation when I was overcome with self doubt.  For my sister she was a best friend.  Someone that connected Mary to what a real mother, woman, and professional was supposed to look like.  Our mom will forever be a part of our lives in spirit, in inspiration, in aspiration, and in what kindness is supposed to look like.  Mind racing, and body exhausted--I finally rolled out of bed.  Sore from the long car rides back and forth to the hospital. 

Warm shower. Freshly brushed teeth. Nothing really makes me feel renewed.  Routine and habit not broken, but life forever different.  I got dressed for the day.  It may not feel cool outside, but I dress for Fall.  

The hall looks like a battlefield from the children playing.  Usually I would be frustrated by this.  Coffee on the pot, and my sister playing quietly with her daughter on the couch.  She is adept in scrolling through the hundreds of kind regards from friends, and family on Facebook.  "Good morning," she said.  I respond likewise.  "Where's Liam and Aubrey," I asked forgetting that this was Tuesday.  My wife hasn't returned from dropping them off.  My wife--- she's amazing.  I may not be the best husband.  In fact, I know that I'm not. So having almost fifteen years with her, and three beautiful children is truly my greatest accomplishment. She deserves some time alone.  The other children in the house are my niece and nephew from her side of the family.  So in whole, we have six children in the house which would be overwhelming if I wasn't already overwhelmed.  My mind doesn't recognize this because my wife has taken on the full brunt of any agitation that I may feel.  She knows that I need time to sort this all out.  I definitely grieve, but have a process.  It is not in my nature to grieve with others, at least initially. These traits come from some aspects of my mother.  Not physically strong, but emotionally disciplined.  I have her to thank for that.

With the house calm, I ask my sister for some personal time to go for a drive.  She understands.  I grab the keys, my wallet, and all other necessities.  I head down to Starbucks to get another coffee.  The weather is truly beautiful.  I know that all people attempt to associate external variables to supernatural variables when moments such as these transpire.  I wont do that here intentionally... (I apologize for the unintentional).  

The drive is nice. The windows down.  The music is appropriate--James Taylor- Greatest Hits.  The restlessness from last night has caught up with me.  I drove to the park and pursued a quiet place.  The shady spot down by the lake will do. I turned my music off and cut the ignition.  Silence.  Then I heard the rhythm of cars going by, slow but consistent.  The birds offered the light sounds of the wood winds.  A symphony of nature put me to sleep.

----

When I woke up I felt excited about the trip that was in front of me.  My car was packed.  I had spent time with my kids and wife eating our favorite lunch at the local pizza joint . Work was behind me for the week.  I drove an hour down I-81 and felt alive.  The music was nostalgic.  Nostalgic for me might not be the classics of the local oldie station.  Classics for me are Pearl Jam, Hootie and Blowfish, and Dave Matthews Band.  Roanoke was getting closer and the trip felt short, almost too short.  When I arrived at my mom's new house, new to her, she was sitting on the porch.  She was ready to go, but busy working through the cross word puzzle that she was making short-work of confidently using a pen where I wouldn't dare stray from a pencil.  She was on her third cup of coffee.  I walked up the path and gave her a kiss on the her thin brown hair.  So smooth and silk like.  "I'm really excited about our trip. I've been waiting for you to take me," she said.  After we both used the bathroom, and put her bag in the car we took off.  

I let her choose the music despite my previous dominion of ambience and entertainment.  She chose the Beatles Greatest Hits.  I was good with that.  First we drove South.  We drove the back roads of South Carolina, and Georgia.  We made few stops along the way.  Mom really wanted to stop at local places. She loved the open air markets where farmers sold fresh produce and vegetables.  We stopped at hole in the wall restaurants that had solid reviews on Yelp.  We made many stops where the view was the only reason. Mom liked the long way.  The path less traveled in the busy and bustling lives of so many people.  

The trip was fast.  We were so excited to be at the beach. Daytona was special to us.  It felt like our family's beach.  The family reunion took place here almost every year despite the long list of other wonderful vacation spots.  The beach had it's quiet moments despite being one of the most famous beaches in the world.  We didn't go this year, and she felt like this was important for us to make this stop on our trip.  Who was I to disagree.

When we arrived her brothers and sister were there to meet us. They carried her bag up the stairs and I carried mine.  We sat down and returned to conversations that were from a year ago but felt like they weren't over.  Grandmother came to the door.  When she joined the party I felt like I wanted to leave her with her siblings for some time alone, although no one said I should.  I imagined they talked about memories of Grandad. All of the great cross country trips. There would probably be some embarrassing stories that come up every year but never get old.  Wine would be passed, and beer for her brothers.  

I returned to laughter.  My sister Mary showed up to surprise mom for the next leg of our trip.  We hugged the rest of the family.  Everyone was there now. Our cousins, and inlaws. All the people that brought her so much joy.  She had always said that she wanted to live closer to her brothers and sisters.  A week is never enough, and neither was the time we had left before we needed to get back on the road. 

We drove north.  We spent many sad trips driving north in our lives.  Driving home from seeing family in Florida.  We pick up every year where we left off, with new cousins, and new scars.  Leaving this time felt unfamiliar in that something was different.  We were unable to put our fingers on it at this time.   Mary and I fought over the music on this portion of the trip.  Mom was the tie-breaker. We landed on Sarah McLachlan.  Despite the feeling that I was on the way to Lilith fair, I enjoyed the music and the company.  Mom reminded us of the theatrics we would engage in about the music, and that she was proud that we've learned to compromise our tastes for what would only echo in our ears in this instance. "Mary's was more like a tantrum," I said jokingly.  Mary was passionate about her music, and very passionate about bad music not tainting her experience.  

When we got to Martinsburg, we were tired.  We found our accommodations nice.  We decided to save money and I would get the one twin-bed, and Mary and Mom would share the other.  We left mom alone for a bit so we could go down to the pull.  Mary and I swam until our hands looked like the bed of a shallow creek after the rain had worn it down.  When we returned to the room mom was reading another book. She was a fervent, and fast reader.  She loved books about life, love, and even the darker and more mysterious parts of life.  I always loved that my mother was so passionate about stories and reading.  Somehow it made me feel smarter.  

The next morning we woke up too late for breakfast at the hotel so we grabbed some on the way.  We drove down to the first house I can remember.  It was a duplex on Maple street. The house still looked the same other than the additional chipped paint on the porch, and the bike leaned up against it.  We pulled up but didn't get out.  "Remember the pictures of you and William with the socks on your hands to dress like the Easter bunny?" Mary asked.  I reminded her that she participated in that picture.  Willam was our next door neighbor, and my best friend.  William's old house looked almost as nice as it did from thirty years ago.  We all smiled.  Mom reminded us of the church around the corner where we first learned of God, and Heaven.  We sat on the porch, we once sat on as children and a mom that was working to put herself through school while being committed to being a good parent.  I personally don't have a lot of memories in this house, but I could tell she did.

We were ready to go to our next house.  Mom rented a larger house on Raleigh Street.  It was a row house on one of the busier streets in Martinsburg.  When we arrived it looked a lot different. The railing around the porch was now gone, and the face of the house was exposed to the side walk and the passers by.  We parked across the street and gazed at the place where we had many fond memories.  Our first dogs, Chip and Twink joined our family here.  We reminisced about the time Mary and I opened up all the Christmas gifts before Mom came downstairs because we mistook a sickly "yes" in place of whatever she said.  She had long forgiven us for this, yet I was emotionally aware enough to know that she was hurt.  We remembered friends that we had made, and the trouble Mary and I got in.  Although a fleeting moment in time, this was when the three of us were all we had, and Mary and I are thankful. Even though our younger selves didn't know how great we had it.  

When we left we decided to visit some other places that we often frequented as youth.  Mom drove this time, and felt compelled to take us to War Memorial Park where she once took us there to see Jesse Jackson campaign for presidency.  We then went to Harper's Ferry, and Anteitam battlefield.  We didn't have time to get out and do much, but we enjoyed the drive over.  Mary started to tear up.  I decided we should pull over at a rest-stop and take a pause.  Mom pulled into the next one. I got out of the car as she was consoling Mary.  I don't know what she said, but it's as if I would never be let in on the secret when I returned.  I'm not sure what was said yet I was okay with that.  Mom and Mary had a special connection that only mothers and daughters have. We left West Virginia and never looked back.  We headed south again toward North Carolina.  My home state.  At least the one that I will always call my home.  

Again we drove through many back roads.  Mom didn't need to ask.  I took us there because I am my mother's son.  I told mom how much I respected her for always being supportive of my father.  They had divorced when we were very young.  So many kids are torn apart by lovelorn parents that have been scarred by a bad marriage.  She allowed me to continue hero worshiping him despite any personal bias.  "You never said a bad thing about dad," I said. As a child I didn't quite understand why they weren't together.  As an adult I know that it just wasn't meant to be.  And sometimes life is like that. Good things can come from just living versus always being on the planned path.  

 She had always told us how important it was that we had a relationship with him.  "You would be hard pressed to think of a time that mom said anything bad about anyone," Mary said.  Mom looked at her and smiled.  The lines on her face were distinct, and when she smiled her face seemed to be at its most natural state.  And the argument, I couldn't prove otherwise...  

We passed through Pine Hall, and Thomasville.  The memories there were very different experiences for all of us.  Some weren't great, but we talked about how throughout it all we were together despite some of the more trying moments in our lives.  Mom wanted to stop by our house on Friendship Ledford Road.  We pulled into one of our old churches. My mom never felt comfortable here despite her unwavering faith. This was no fault of hers, I don't think she ever felt at home in that house nevermind the church.  Her new marriage hadn't panned out the way that she anticipated, and despite her optimism for change it wasn't going to happen. After some silence, Mary reminded us of some of the funny stories from our time there.  I told the story about how I used to play pranks on my stepdad. He would fall asleep late at night on the floor, and I would put random kitchen tools in his hand, and once a jar of pickles.  By the time we woke up in the morning he had put them up.  I always laughed wondering what he thought had happened the night before.   Mom brought up how proud she was of Mary for her achievements in school.  She reminded me of my late night basketball games by the spotlight in the driveway, and that she rarely missed any of my football or basketball games.  She was right.  She was my biggest fan.  No matter how self-involved we were as teenagers, she was that constant.  

We bypassed the Winston Salem portion of that trip, and headed to High Point where Mom bought a townhome.  I didn't live there long because I was in college, but Mary and her had many fond memories. "Remember that time that Pookie (a nickname for our Japanese exchange student-sister) stuck her finger in Cocoa's (our cat) butt?", Mary said.  Mom laughed too.  She could laugh at even the most tasteless of jokes (having three brothers), and the most sophisticated.  "That look of horror on her face was a cross between something sour, and infuriating," mom shared.  We all laughed.  The house looked to be vacated, yet we were able to envision it as if we still lived there.  We let ourselves in.  The small kitchen where mom cooked her red chili, and chicken and dumplings.  The Dining Room which was more of an office area/slash dining area. The sunlit living room where mom would read her books, and watch television late at night while Mary and I were out living our late teenage lives.  I brought my girlfriends there to meet her. She was always so welcoming to anyone that I brought home, even the ones she knew wouldn't last.  We went upstairs and looked at our old rooms. Mom sacrificed the master bedroom to Mary and Mami for a few years, and then to me for the short period I lived there and accumulated a bunch of stuff.  We walked in the master and saw where Mary and Mami had their sleeping areas separated by a book shelf.  The back of the bookshelf was covered in chalk and drawings that Mami had scribbled while laying in her bed.  Mary reminded me of my "acting" when she filmed a student horror film for a class at school. "The only thing that was horrifying was my acting..." I said.  This house was an important pivot for many of us in our lives.  This was where mom declared her independence from her previous marriage, and we started to discover who we were going to be as adults.  The home was small, but the history there was grand.  

Mom bought a small cottage house down the street. It had its own walls, and yard.  It made up in character what it lacked in size. It was perfect for mom, and her cat and dog.  The house wasn't impressive but she was proud of it because it was hers, and she had worked hard to buy her own house.    When we arrived to her little abode on Chestnut street, we pulled in.  No one was living there, and it looked as if there was some construction going on back behind it.  We got out of the car and looked around.  The house needed a paint job, and a new roof.  It was well shaded, and had a fenced back yard.  Mary thought of Remo her sweet dog that mom and her found at a pet fair.  " Remo loved this house," Mary said.  Mom smiled.  "Yeah, and he loved you mom.  Remember how he would protect you and growl at me anytime I was near," I said.  We all stood there.  We took it in. Mom truly is the most humble and un-materialistic person on the planet.  She has more education than most people (two masters degrees), yet nothing of real "value" on the street.  Even her jewelry is just sentimental.  Mom had a whole room full of shelves filled with books. I had no doubt she read them all unlike my shelves at home.  "I really enjoyed going to the book sales at the library," I told mom.  "Me too. That was our thing," she said.  I couldn't keep up with her reading, and I always envied that about her.   She instilled the value of education, and reading in both Mary and me.  The moment was short, but the pause was lengthy.  When we left here we just drove.  No destination, just time passing by.  

Mom broke the silence by making a comment about the size of the last house she lived in NC.  This house was truly small.  She was so proud of herself for selling her old house, and paying off all her debt.  She was preparing for the next stage in her life.  I had always thought that she would move close to Mary, or Aunt Pat.  "It is a small house mom..." Mary said.  I reminded both of them that it wasn't smaller than the dwarf house back in Shepardstown that we used to go and visit from time to time.  I quietly thought about how I was a little embarrassed that Mom lived there.  Yet, she never thought twice about it.  Again she only lived life for her work, her family, and for the quietness of nature.  She never pursued another's favor, or to impress anyone. I looked over at her as she drove us through the late afternoon into the evening.  Although the trip must've been days it was fleeting for all of us.  We soon pulled up to a quiet park in Virginia.  

When we got out of the car we all stretched.  "It all feels so short," Mary said to me.  I just looked at her, not quite clear what the words meant but somehow understanding.  "No matter what.  You and I will always be close right?" I asked her.  She hugged me. We watched Mom walking up to the park where we could hear kids playing.  When we rounded the corner as the playground equipment became more distinct, and the park widened.  Mom walked up to all of her grandkids.  It didn't even register with us why they were here, or who was watching them.  They were all under their best behavior. Even Liam. Then we heard a loud "Mommy" as my wife came out to greet us.  She came up and hugged our mom.  When they broke embrace Jen joined Mary and me.  We sat as mom sat on the stairs talking to Aubrey.  They discussed school, and the trip they had to Lancaster.  Aubrey was quiet, but happy.  Her beauty was understated but profound.  Like the sunset peaking out behind cloud cover just waiting for that moment to shine.  I told Jen, my wife, that "they are so close." "She adores Aubrey," Mary said, somehow realizing that the daughter - mother bond extends to granddaughters. Mom then talked to Liam about video games despite her lack of knowledge about anything he was sharing.  Liam felt loved.  Dylan and Violet were over on the swings.  We pushed them as Mom talked to Liam and Dylan about the importance of school, and being kind to each other.  She was overheard saying "Live close to each other if you can, or at least find away to be close frequently."  

I looked at Mary and said, "Did mom ever say that to us?"  Mary answered, "I know she did.... but we all do it right?"

"What's that," I said.  

"Take family for granted."  She was right. 

She walked up to us and smiled.  We let her push Violet for a while.  Dylan wanted to show her his toys. He had two small action figures that he held onto like the most important possessions in the world.  "Nana, come over my house," he said.  He loved his Nana.  

It was time to go.  Jen was happy to help, but I could tell she wanted to come with us.  The car was only so big, and Nana had a lot of grandkids.  We all kissed our kids, and shared another hug, after hug.  I kissed my wife on the head, and told her "thank you".  I could tell she was sad, yet I didn't quite grasp why.  I would be home later.  

As we got into the car we let mom choose her soundtrack for the last leg of our trip.  We were heading back to Roanoke.  Mom picked songs that reminded her of her childhood.  She told us a few stories about Grandad Ryan and how mad he would get when her brothers and her acted out on the trip.  How to ask to stop before the "planned-stop" was not forgivable. She told us about frogs getting loose in the basement.  She talked about his love for baseball, and how it was like a sixth sibling.  She talked about how touching it was at his funeral where thousands of people had come to say goodbye to Okey Ryan.  They ended the ceremony with "Take me out to the ballgame." Mary and I both love that story. Mom would go to baseball games over the past few years to feel closer to him.  The sun was starting to set behind the mountains.  We could see the Roanoke star illuminate a little early.  "I've taken Aubrey, and Violet up there," she said, speaking about the star.  I had never been up there, so I knew that was a stop that I had to take in the near future and that it would forever be important to me and them. When we got to Vinton, we were all tired.  We all went around and shared what was the best part of the trip.  

"I liked the sight seeing." I said.  I always enjoyed history and being in the shadows of defining moments in humanity.  "I loved the memories we had being exposed to all of these great landmarks, and that they are forever connected to me and our family, and our road trips."  

Mary said, "I enjoyed the stories. We had so many great stories. It feels like we could continue this trip and still have more stories to share that we didn't even talk about.  Endless stories..."  We all nodded, and thought that it would be nice. I could see tears forming in Mary's eye.  Mom was stoic, and happy.

We both looked at mom.  Waiting for her to answer.  She smiled. 

"Everything".

When we opened the door her husband was standing there. She was so happy to see him.  We were too.  Although he arrived late in the journey, it felt as if he had been here all along. He grabbed her bag from the trunk.  He took her hand and walked back to their house.  The sun was all but gone.  Dim, and orange.  We waved goodbye, and happy that she had found true love after a few tries at just love. 

Mary and I left, and headed back home. That part of the journey I don't remember.  I just know that we had to get back to our homes, and  that mom was where she wanted to be.  

----

I awoke knowing that was just a nap.   Disappointed but thankful to have had that trip.  Even though it wasn't real, it felt real.  We had so many trips in our lives.  I don't know if we drove because it was cheap, or if we just liked driving.  I know now that I liked the latter. What soon became apparent is that I needed to get home myself.  I had some sweat on my brow from the nap and my phone had a few messages on it.  Messages from friends reminding me that what I woke up to is real, and there's no going back.  

I cooked out for the family plus Mary and Violet.  The kids played.  We talked about arrangements, and plans.  We had to be discreet because none of the kids knew.  I had planned to tell the older ones after dinner when things had calmed down.  

When I told Aubrey I took her out to the porch swing.  One that she and Nana had once sat on.  I often think about that.  We go through life making memories while failing to recognize the poignance of the moment.  Aubrey was already crying from some other provocation from her brother.  I just let her cry.  Moments like these are often rushed.  I asked her what was bothering her.  She shared that she has all this responsibility since I haven't been home.  "I'm not able to ride my bike. I can't go to my friends house. Mom needs me to help with the babies." I could tell she was taking on a lot of responsibility.  The part where I lost some control of my emotions was when she said she hadn't had a good day since Nana got sick, and that she wanted to spend more time with me.  I agreed to find more time, and that her and I would have a special day.  When I told her that Nana had gone to heaven she really lost it.  It's hard to imagine how a kid will take something of this gravity.  Kids are supposed to learn about death from a pet.  Tragically cancer has robbed many young children of their grandparents, and parents.  I sat there and held my beautiful daughter as she shook, and hugged me tight.  This was the closest i had ever felt to her.  That spark of connection that her and I are forever connected by blood.  The blood of my beautiful, kind, and wonderful mother.  We sat our their for awhile watching the sun go down.  I told her, unsure of myself, that Nana will always be watching over her, and her brothers. I told her how proud she was of Aubrey.  I do know that to be as true as anything that ever was said.  That love was undeniable.  

Once I had gotten Aubrey to agree to keeping this a secret--at least--until we had a chance to tell the other kids.  I walked up the stairs to read a story to Liam.  He was already lying on the bed ready for me.  He was really tired, so he was not very patient.  I was glad that I had gotten the difficult one out of the way.  What I soon realized was that I couldn't have been more wrong.  When I told Liam the tears were quick, and the sobs were loud.  He always said such sweet, and age-appropriately selfish things like "I want to go on a trip with Nana like Aubrey did".  This time he was just sad that he would never get to see his Nana again, and that the trip was definitely out of the question. The sobs shook him, and shook me along with it.  His mom heard him crying and she came into the room.  This was the first time I really saw her breakdown.  She held the both of us, and we all cried.  

----

This is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever gone through.  I took her for granted.  We all did.  Life is so fragile.  There's people on this earth that make you wonder how they got as far as they have yet they get to do it again the next day, and the next.  Mom was a quiet, unassuming person.  She was also the most kind, caring, and unwavering of an optimist that ever graced the earth with her breath.  She loved without expectation. She gave her time, resources, and love to everyone that she came into contact with.  My mom was a great educator.  She was a pure Christian.  One that wasn't adorned with the self-hate and loathing of so many that feel that shame for their hypocrisy.  She was a great mother. One that raised her kids to be unabashedly imperfect, but try to be the best that we can be.  She didn't allow me to quit anything as a kid, yet when I did--she accepted it.  I will always love you, and I am forever grateful.  I hope to see you again someday when my duty is done.  Until then, rest quietly and send me a sign from time to time.  I know you're somewhere out there.