Post by RedneckDiva on Mar 4, 2005 11:00:48 GMT -5
RD1 (cont)
“Boys, we need to go,” he hollered down the hall, while he helped Meredith with her coat. “Nelle, I’ll take Mere today, okay? You can pick her up this afternoon, but I think you need to rest this morning,” he said, but when he saw her emerge from their bedroom looking radiant and positively glowing, he added, “Well, you did look tired, but you don’t now. Wow.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and smiled her trademark half smile. “I’m Super Mom. I don’t get tired. And my kids need me.” Then she picked up her purse, called to the boys which caused what sounded like a stampede, took Meredith’s hand and headed toward the door. “I’ve got things under control, Rog. Now, you go to work and be a hero. We’ll see you tonight.” But Roger felt like he needed to give her the morning off. He insisted she stay home, put on her sweats, lay on the couch and watch a movie or something. Maybe call a friend or her mother. Read a book. “Nelle, I have it under control. Just rest, k? You can resume your Super Mom-ish duties at 1, when it’s time to pick up Meredith. In the meantime, take a break.” She tried in vain to convince him she was fine, but in the end she relented, although she wasn’t really tired. The thought of talking on the phone to her best friend for more than 5 minutes and for more than a recipe swap did sound good, though. She kissed the kids, kissed Roger once more, then watched them pull out of the driveway.
The highway patrolman said Roger’s car had crossed the center line and the semi driver had no time to swerve to miss him. Doctors in the ER knew immediately that Roger had suffered a major stroke the minute they saw the slack muscles on the left side of his face.
What happened in the weeks to follow the funeral are still a mystery. It seemed Janelle grieved quietly as she watched those around her tend to her duties, the ones that she normally handled with ease and temerity. She took the sedatives her mother handed her with no argument. She was afraid to know what she’d feel if she came out from under the veil of the medicated fog they had her in. She sat stoically and tearless while those around her, consoled, sympathized and offered prayers and thoughts. She watched numbly from the limousine as the four hearses pulled into the cemetery.
When the last person left and she was alone for the first time, the quietness of the house was too much. She picked up her car keys and walked out the door. Her purse sat on the table by the door.
****************************************
“Miss Jane, you sure are lookin’ pretty today,” chirped the nurse who opened the mini-blinds, flooding the room with morning light. “It’s supposed to be nearly 70 degrees today, girl! I think this is a perfect day for you to get some sunshine on that pretty face of yours. The jonquils are starting to bud, the birds are downright twitterpated and it’s nearly Spring!” Barbara straightened the covers on the bed, talking nonstop the whole time about nothing in particular, but making it seem happy nonetheless. She veritably attacked the young woman’s hair with a brush, smoothing the tangled curls into submission, but barely. She took a warm, wet cloth and carefully, gently washed the smooth, beautiful, but always sad face of the woman who was younger than herself. She was face to face with her, and pleadingly she said, “Jane, if you would just talk to us...please honey? There has to be something going on in that head of yours. There has to be someone out there that misses you, sweetie. Please talk, please.” But her pleas were met with nothing more than a blank stare from the young woman who sat in her chair, day after day, occasionally crying softly, but never speaking.
Oh, her thoughts were lucid enough. She knew what was going on around her. She knew her name was Janelle Cleary and she was 35 years old. She knew she was in a nursing home in Mobile, Alabama, some 1500 miles from her home. She knew she had driven till her car ran out of gas nearly 6 months ago and wandered into a hospital ER one day after 2 weeks on the street. She spoke once when she said, in response to a query about her name, “I'm Super Mom," and as a single tear made it's way down her pale cheek she finished, "But now I'm tired and my kids don’t seem to need me anymore.”
“Boys, we need to go,” he hollered down the hall, while he helped Meredith with her coat. “Nelle, I’ll take Mere today, okay? You can pick her up this afternoon, but I think you need to rest this morning,” he said, but when he saw her emerge from their bedroom looking radiant and positively glowing, he added, “Well, you did look tired, but you don’t now. Wow.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and smiled her trademark half smile. “I’m Super Mom. I don’t get tired. And my kids need me.” Then she picked up her purse, called to the boys which caused what sounded like a stampede, took Meredith’s hand and headed toward the door. “I’ve got things under control, Rog. Now, you go to work and be a hero. We’ll see you tonight.” But Roger felt like he needed to give her the morning off. He insisted she stay home, put on her sweats, lay on the couch and watch a movie or something. Maybe call a friend or her mother. Read a book. “Nelle, I have it under control. Just rest, k? You can resume your Super Mom-ish duties at 1, when it’s time to pick up Meredith. In the meantime, take a break.” She tried in vain to convince him she was fine, but in the end she relented, although she wasn’t really tired. The thought of talking on the phone to her best friend for more than 5 minutes and for more than a recipe swap did sound good, though. She kissed the kids, kissed Roger once more, then watched them pull out of the driveway.
The highway patrolman said Roger’s car had crossed the center line and the semi driver had no time to swerve to miss him. Doctors in the ER knew immediately that Roger had suffered a major stroke the minute they saw the slack muscles on the left side of his face.
What happened in the weeks to follow the funeral are still a mystery. It seemed Janelle grieved quietly as she watched those around her tend to her duties, the ones that she normally handled with ease and temerity. She took the sedatives her mother handed her with no argument. She was afraid to know what she’d feel if she came out from under the veil of the medicated fog they had her in. She sat stoically and tearless while those around her, consoled, sympathized and offered prayers and thoughts. She watched numbly from the limousine as the four hearses pulled into the cemetery.
When the last person left and she was alone for the first time, the quietness of the house was too much. She picked up her car keys and walked out the door. Her purse sat on the table by the door.
****************************************
“Miss Jane, you sure are lookin’ pretty today,” chirped the nurse who opened the mini-blinds, flooding the room with morning light. “It’s supposed to be nearly 70 degrees today, girl! I think this is a perfect day for you to get some sunshine on that pretty face of yours. The jonquils are starting to bud, the birds are downright twitterpated and it’s nearly Spring!” Barbara straightened the covers on the bed, talking nonstop the whole time about nothing in particular, but making it seem happy nonetheless. She veritably attacked the young woman’s hair with a brush, smoothing the tangled curls into submission, but barely. She took a warm, wet cloth and carefully, gently washed the smooth, beautiful, but always sad face of the woman who was younger than herself. She was face to face with her, and pleadingly she said, “Jane, if you would just talk to us...please honey? There has to be something going on in that head of yours. There has to be someone out there that misses you, sweetie. Please talk, please.” But her pleas were met with nothing more than a blank stare from the young woman who sat in her chair, day after day, occasionally crying softly, but never speaking.
Oh, her thoughts were lucid enough. She knew what was going on around her. She knew her name was Janelle Cleary and she was 35 years old. She knew she was in a nursing home in Mobile, Alabama, some 1500 miles from her home. She knew she had driven till her car ran out of gas nearly 6 months ago and wandered into a hospital ER one day after 2 weeks on the street. She spoke once when she said, in response to a query about her name, “I'm Super Mom," and as a single tear made it's way down her pale cheek she finished, "But now I'm tired and my kids don’t seem to need me anymore.”
