The Brick Wall

Without a job or even the desire to look for one, we agreed it was time for Jody to return to Locust Valley in mid-September. I was sorry it hadn't worked out but glad to have my couch back. He left on a Tuesday.

Early Wednesday morning my phone rang. It was 6:30AM. No good can ever come of a call that early in the morning. It was my father - and Jody. In hindsight, recognizing the three hour time difference it's amazing my father waited that long. Yet, I will always wonder why he didn't make the call when my brother and I were together. Why I had to hear this horrendous news and be totally alone when I hung up the phone.

My mother had terminal cancer. She had less than a year to live. Breast...spread...lungs....liver...no reprieve in sight. These were the days pre-mammograms. By the time they found it there was nothing to be done. A small operation and they told her there was no need to stop smoking. While my father peppered the doctors with his attorney like questions "exactly how big is this tumor and that one"..the doctors said it didn't matter. The jury was in on this one and the verdict was not good.

I don't remember much about that day other than I drank about a bottle of wine and didn't go to work. I sat and cried. Chris came over and sat with me. My friend Pam and her boyfriend had tickets to go see Barry Manilow that night and we were going with them. Yes, I loved Barry Manilow...sorry about that. I remember going to the concert and drinking even more wine. When I didn't think I could cry anymore I kept crying.

Three days later my father called and said, "Come home. It's spread to her brain and she might not live through the night." I was on a plane within two hours.

How could my life possibly go on without my Mom, Emmy,in it?

When I got off the plane my Aunt Doris and Uncle Howie were there to meet me. Uncle Howie is my father's youngest brother and they had on-again, off-again feuds for as long as I could remember. Only imminent death could have patched up the last one...in fact, my father had said to my uncle during their last altercation "see you at the next funeral"...nice, very nice.

They drove me to the hospital and my Mom was sitting up in bed..it was 11:00PM and I knew my being able to get past visiting hours meant things were pretty serious.

Radiation had worked a miracle, bringing her back from the brink.

While Mom was out of immediate danger the doctors said it was just a matter of time. Much less than they originally thought. She said she wasn't in any pain and felt like "I have half a jag on". Yet, they gave her chemotherapy, which confounded me. In this Catholic hospital "where there's life, there's hope". I questioned a nurse who was also a nun and she told me that she and my mother had quite a conversation about life and death. The nun told me my mom had said "I'll be fine...I have my family, my friends and my faith."

Mom was still in the hospital when I returned to California ten days later. We'd spent our time together saying "goodbye" without ever saying the words. She told me of her hopes for me and my brother. When it was time to leave, Jody drove me to the airport while my dad stayed with her.

Seated in a chair in her room, she smiled and said "see you all of a sudden" - her favorite parting phrase. We hugged and I kissed her. We both knew it was a final goodbye.

She didn't shed a tear...neither did I.

I heard later from my father that mom was worried most about me. When I left the room she looked at him and said "she'll be all right".