“I
wonder if they know I can see and hear them.” I pondered this as my coffin was carried
between the pews. It was a slow precession.
Once
upon a time, I was a star. Of course it was in my own right- not publically. I
had a long, adventure filled life- right until it was my time to go.
As death goes, I can’t complain about mine. It
was my time, I was tired and old. Walking was a chore; I couldn’t do anything
for myself anymore. My independence was stripped from me- the one thing I
valued most in my life. It’s kind-of ironic, my death that is. I was outside,
just trying to get my mail. It was a cold December day, fresh snow covered the
ground. My son, who I lived with, was out talking his dogs Starr and Bear up on
the mountain in our backyard, in Bolder, Colorado. He usually got the mail, but
I was feeling adventurous. Just my luck, I slipped on the ice, broke my hip and
went into a coma. I wouldn’t wish being
in a coma on anyone. You can see and
hear everything around you, but you are utterly paralyzed. It was kind of like
Astral-Projection. I read about that once, in one of my mystery novels.
To
tell the truth, I was ready to pass on after a day hooked up to all the damn
hospital contraptions. My family huddled around me when they pulled the plug
(as I heard one of my grandchildren call it). I didn’t know what to expect. I
used to be church-going-woman in my prime. As I got older, I lost my faith-
isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Well, it wasn’t for me. I had
lost too much in my life for me to figure there was someone watching over me. To
my surprise, nothing new happened. I was still floating around in whatever
realm I was in. I guessed I was a ghost. Fancy that, I was ready for heaven or
hell to gather me up, but I just watched as my heart stopped beating.
The
only people at my death bed were my son, Jack, and my granddaughter, Amy. I
watched as Amy fell to her knees, sobbing. My son just fell into one of the
hospital chairs next to the bed. He was a statue. No tears filled his eyes, his
body was rigid. He just let out one big sigh. Amy was a mess, the poor girl.
She spent so much time trying to care for me. She was the only member of my
family that put up with my crotchety old self.
“Snap
out of it Amy, you’re making a scene.” Jack barked. What an asshole he was to
his own daughter. I wish I could give him a slap upside his head, but I was
helpless as I was. I just watched Amy’s suffering.
“Fuck
off Dad, I know you don’t give a shit- but I DO.” Her voice was weak but her
words were harsh. It didn’t seem like there would be much of a relationship
between the two anymore, now that I wasn’t there to hold them together. Amy
would go back to college and Jack would continue to drink and drug himself to
death. I hated to admit it, but his problems arose from my own.
I
had one son before my twins, Grant. I had one great year with my child and
husband, before he went to war. We had an old family home in New Orleans. But,
before all of this happened- I had a life of my own. It was full of laughter
and excitement.
Before
I turned into a decrypted old lady, I was like a wildfire- unable to be
quenched. I am here to tell the story of my wild years and how I came to be the
way I am today, which is by all means, dead. I lived a full life but I will
focus on one aspect. My prime-time adventures.
It
was spring of 1951 and I just graduated from Buffalo State Teachers college. I
was scouted out by a fellow from Los Alamos. He came to my school, looking for
teachers for the up and coming town. All of the brightest scientists were
congregating there. Their families would, of course, need teachers for their
children. The rich and pampered mothers wouldn’t dare to home-school their
spoiled children. They would need as much time as possible to themselves. They
needed to bask in the glory of their husbands makings. Though, some of the
bright new minds were women themselves. Rare as it was during that time, it did
happen. But, I digress in my telling of my story.
I
called my mother that Spring, to tell her I found a job straight out of
college. She was oh so excited, until I told her where. I am what you would
call a small town girl. Never venturing far from my homeland, my parents always
had a close eye on my doings. I told her, “Mother! I’ve found a job. The superintendent
came from a very nice school system, looking for new teachers!”
“Oh
really, Dear, is that so?” She said.
“Yes
mother! I will be going to Los Alamos, New Mexico! Imagine that!” I exclaimed.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The silence was pulsating.
“Well,
Annabelle, I just don’t know what to think of that.” She sighed, paused and
spoke again, “Who will be going with you?”
“It
will be Ted, Christopher, Francis, Audra and I.” I beamed at the phone,
thinking way ahead to a bright new future for myself. I wasn’t aware of my
mother’s large undertone of concern; I was far too excited with the prospect of
my new life to even begin to think of how it would affect my mother.
“Annabelle,
I don’t know what to say to you. You must know that I do not approve of you
going so far with such a sorted bunch.” She snapped, snapping me out of my
blissful ignorance. “How are your father and I supposed to keep an eye on you
when you’re going all the way across the damned country!?” My mother cursed. My
mother never curses.
“Well,
mother, it will be just fine. I am grown now, and I need to learn to make my
own way.” I responded curtly. If she wanted to be snappy, well by God, I would
be too. She was insufferable sometimes. At the time, I thought she would
prevent me from going. I was all revved up for a large rebuttal of how and why
I would be going to New Mexico and making my own way. I can’t say I was
disappointed with how she responded, but I was taken aback that I had built up
the best response only to be left floundering.
“Dear,
if it is your wish to go out there, then it is my wish.” She let out a resigned
sigh.
“Really?
Do you really mean it mother, that I have your blessing?” My voice came out as
a squeak, I was so relived. I was going to go regardless, but to have my
mother’s blessing was the icing on the cake. (I never really did care for
cherries on top.)
“Yes,
Darling, I really do mean it.” She sounded much more resolved now. As she was
affirming it to herself- which, in a way, she was. Change was not something
that came easy to my mother. Growing up, it had been my sister and I doing
everything the same, rather monotonously.
We had little room for growth and change in her household. Yes, my
father was the technical “head of the house hold” but my mother was the one who
held the whole thing together. Without her help, dinner would have been bland,
dresses would have been thrown out, not mended. Needless to say, my mother was
the main figure of my life till this point.
After
the upheaval of emotions of that conversation, I was so relieved to just get
back to my dorm. I walked in the door and I literally jumped into my bed.
Francis looked at me like I and spouted a second head. I didn’t have the energy
to explain anything else that night so I just put up my arm in a “stop and
don’t even speak” gesture, “Yes, I am going to Los Alamos with you, and no I
don’t want to talk anymore tonight.” And I fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
The
next few weeks after that went by in such a daze. I had to return home to
retrieve the things I was going to need for my move. I had to deal with the
constant naggings from my mother, telling me not to forget anything. I said
goodbye to my sister, Lacy (who had stayed home on the farm to help mother and
father and keep it going after they eventually pass), and jokingly wished her
the best of luck with finding a husband. She was a looker, and finding callers
was no problem of hers.
After
I loaded everything into Chris’s car, the feeling of leaving home finally set
it. I was an adult now. Going off on my own into unknown territory. I had a
plethora of different emotions; scared, anxious, excited, sad, happy… The list
could go on forever. I was the last person to be picked up out of my four
companions. This gave me the time to properly say goodbye to my family and say
I loved them over and over again. And then off we went, into the great unknown!
(Yes, I realize how clique that phrase is… But that’s what it was to my friends
and I. No of us have ever been out of the state- let alone all across the
country. I’ll say this, driving to the other end of U.S made me feel like a
rock star. I felt like I could conquer the world with a single sweep of my
hand. It was exhilarating.
It
took us about four days to get to Los Alamos, New Mexico from Warsaw, New York.
We passed through all sorts of towns and cities on our way. I’d have to say
that New Orleans made the biggest impression on me. The parties in the streets,
the vivid night life- being there was one of the pinnacle exciting moments of
my life. It was a perpetual party all the way to our destination. We played car
games, I Spy, and Name That Song. We sang, put our heads out the windows and
howled at the moon. I had never felt more alive in my entire life. I was almost
sad when we saw the sign leading to Los Alamos. I knew that my free and fun
days were limited as soon as we passed through the gates of that
brand-spanking-new town.
We
stopped at the gates and exclaimed who we were. The superintendent of the
school system we were to work for was there, on our behalf so we could be let
in. We were shown about the town, the different sites where we were to work and
then finally taken to the place we would be living.
The
home we were renting was outstanding in so many ways. Arched doorways, crown
molding, even some stained glass windows. The doctor who owned the home was
going to Europe for the year and left us in control of the household. There
were five bedrooms and three bathrooms. It was a mansion. None of us had ever
been in a place so grand. We felt like royalty!
Before
the kind doctor packed up and left, he insisted in selling me his car, a
four-door Plymouth. It was so old, the white paint had turned a dark, rusty
gray and paint chips fell off every time you shut the door. It cost me all of
one dollar. Only after the doctor left did I find out why it was so cheap. The
car had no breaks and the passenger-side-front door would not stay closed for
anything.
When one of us five had to go someplace, at least one
other person had to go- the door was so bad that we had to leave the window
open and hold it closed from the outside. But, regardless of all the troubles
the car gave us, we made the best of it. Not only did we make the best of it,
we had the best time doing so.
On the days we didn’t have to go to the schools, we went
on long road trips. Up and down the steep, curvaceous mountains we went. The
old car puttered like an old tractor on its way up and sped like a race car on
its way down. We used the car with absolute abandon. We feared nothing. We were
invincible. Los Alamos was a perpetual roller-coaster of hillocks and inclines.
There was an especially steep hill that was the only road into town from where
we lived. And this is where it gets good. My girlfriends and I were such
lookers, no one seemed to mind when we stuck our heads out the window every day
and screamed, “NO BREAKS! NO BREAKS!!!”
Believe it or not, my friends and I had never gotten into
an accident during that year. Later in life, I was the victim of various
wreaks. But, that’s beside the point. I think the reason we never had any
hardships with that old automobile was that we believed we never would. There
is always some sort of power in the modality of positive thinking.
When we finally started teaching in the Fall we had to
tone down are adventures. It only seemed the right thing to do. After all, we were
adults now, working adults. In that small of a community, one had to be careful
of their reputation.
And so we went on with our lives. Audra moved to
California to teach at a community college. Chris went and took off back to
Colorado. Francis became the superintend of the school system in Los Alamos.
The only two who were left, Ted and I, got married. We moved to Oregon, had
three children and then eventually moved back to our home town, as Chris did,
to raise our children. Ted and I
continued teaching and lived as happily ever after as any two couples could.
And then, they closed my casket. Amy had quenched her
tears and it was now my sons who were crying. Then, everything went dark. As I
realized I had nothing to do with this world anymore, I started to slip away.
As I said, I was not sure Heaven or Hell were tangible, breathing places; so
I’ll let you decide what happened next.
