LYLA
Ipull up to the facility before me, or in this case, it’s called a haven. It sits right on the water and is a mixture of holistic and modern medicine where people come to find themselves again.
Jake approached me after my accident with brochures of a place he visited after work one day. After learning about the care my mom was receiving and how far away she was, he insisted we try this place out.
We set up a few Zoom calls with them while I was recovering in bed, and after talking with the doctors and therapists they have on site, I knew it was the right place for her to begin to heal.
It’s only thirty minutes away from us, so I visit her a couple of days a week to see how she’s progressing. Little by little, I see a tiny light in her grow that hasn’t been there since my dad died.
They took her off most of the medication she had been receiving and found the right prescription, along with herbs that work for her body and her depression.
I helped them choose her daily therapy by remembering what she liked before the accident. Everyone has a daily sessionwith a therapist and does yoga, but they can decide what other interests they like.
She loved the garden and would get so excited about a new herb or vegetable that would sprout. She also loved to cook and constantly had her nose in a book or a paintbrush in her hand. She would sit for hours under a tree in our backyard, either painting or reading, while I ran around and played in the yard.
When I visit now, she’s always working in their garden, her hands covered in soil. She hasn’t picked up a book or painted anything, but her bookcase is full, and art supplies are in her room when she’s ready.
I smile at the front desk and get my visitor pass. “Hi, Miss Dorothy.”
“It’s good to see you, Lyla,” she smiles back. She’s old enough to be my grandma, and I love her to pieces. She looks great for her age. She keeps herself busy here and gets her yoga in every day.
Jack enters my mind, and the thought of playing matchmaker has me grinning. They would be perfect together. I might have to bring him with me next time so he can meet my mom and let fate take it from there.
“Somebody is in a good mood,” she laughs at my grinning face.
“I’m just happy to see you.” I’m not about to tell her my plans so she can shut them down. “How is she today?”
“Go see for yourself. She’s down by the water under the tree.” Her eyes twinkle with excitement, and I feel a tiny sliver of hope weave in.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen her. I’ve been working nonstop on orders coming in, so I haven’t had the chance to get here during visiting hours. I will have to hire an assistant soon, or I’ll never be able to keep up. I’ve been having to drive to Clara’s kitchen because it’s taking me twice as long to fillthe orders without her big ovens, so that takes up a lot of my time just driving back and forth.
I walk outside, and the salty air hits my skin as I walk by the round umbrella tables they have set up for eating. I smile at a few guests as I walk past the garden and down the hill toward the water.
I spot a couple of volunteers keeping an eye on everyone, but for the most part, everyone is free to do their own thing. Most patients here are temporary and just need the resources to get back on their feet.
Since my business is picking up, I plan on letting her stay for as long as she needs to, and then after that, I’ll find her a place to rent close to us so I can keep an eye on her.
I stop when I see her under the tree. Her hair is softly blowing in the breeze as the brush in her hand strokes against the canvas.
She’s painting again.
As I get closer, I see the different shades of blue blend seamlessly, creating depth and beauty in the ocean scene she is capturing. The sunlight reflects on it, casting tiny diamonds across the surface.
“It’s beautiful, Mom,” I say softly, noticing the details she’s adding to the beach as the waves kiss the sand.
“We always loved taking you to the beach.” She quietly studies the painting, lost in her memories. Sighing, she sets the brush down and pats the chair next to her. A sad look reaches her eyes as she studies me when I sit down.
“I don’t know what happened to me when your dad died. The therapist I see now can explain it better, but the emotional side of me shut down. I was aware of my surroundings, but I wasn’t attached to it. I felt nothing. It was like a light switch went off, and a big part of me never wanted it back because I knew the pain would be waiting for me.”
Now that I have Jake in my life, I understand more of the pain she must have felt. Just thinking about losing him sends a deep chill throughout my body.
“Once I started taking medication, it became easier to numb myself. I knew I was depressed and checked out, but I didn’t care.”
“They had you on way more meds than you needed, Mom,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s my fault. I trusted Tim to take care of you when I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not your fault, and I don’t ever want you to blame yourself. I’m the one that’s sorry. I left you to deal with everything because I didn’t have the strength to face reality. I should have fought harder to get better.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it tightly. “Everyone deals with trauma differently. It’s not your fault it triggered something inside you. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy again, and from the looks of it,” I smile at her painting, “you are finding your way.”
