I miss her terribly. Like so many others in her family, she had inherited a fatal neurological disease and slipped away fast. I had spent as much time with her as I could between nursing shifts, caring for her, and ultimately quit my job to stay with her in her last few months.
I would sit in the recliner next to her bed, and when she couldn’t sleep, we would talk quietly about so many things. Those midnight moments let us bridge the gap from my childhood. I'm so thankful we were able to find meaning and love before I lost her forever.
I realized she had done the best she could as a woman who was the product of a small town and a strict upbringing herself, struggling to meet the demands and needs of a husband and a family. She was by no means perfect, even admitted as much, but she had tried, and in the end, that was enough for me. It had to be.
Part of being an adult child was realizing some parents, like my mom, did the best they could with what they had. And some, like my father, just had nothing to offer. And although I can't pick up the phone to call her, I can have a conversation of the heart with my mom. What would she say?
With a sad smile, I think of exactly what mom would say. As much as I love my store, I realize I don’t need taxidermied critters or my skeletal best mate, Van Helsing.
I need a real live human with listening ears and a beating heart. I need the safe landing of a familiar shoulder to cry on. When I had tearfully asked my mom what on Earth I would do without her, she patted my hand and said, “Oh, honey. You are so strong. Lean on your girlfriends. That’s what women do when we lose our moms.”
She was right. I may not feel strong right now, but I know I can lean on my found family, my rocks, so I can take all these shattered pieces and mold them back together. Mindy and Jo are the glue. Mom knew that. And now I know what I need to do.
Lieshe
Get together now?
Mindy
?? what do I always tell you?
Lieshe
Real friends don’t need invitations.
Mindy
Drive safe.
I blink my now teary eyes and bite down on my lower lip as it wobbles. Missing Mom, coupled with the blow to my newfound confidence, feels like too much to handle. I can’t help but feel rejected by both guys, and it makes me freaking mad-sad.
Two hours, I tell myself. Keep it together for two hours and then you can fall apart. I dig deep for strength, bring up an upbeat playlist, and enter a new destination into the GPS app. I can keep my shit together for two hours.
I head north to Mindy’s instead of south to Grimm and focus on driving out of the city. Once I hit the interstate, I wish my vintage bug had cruise control. This part of the drive is easy. Just go straight for miles and miles, so I turn my thoughts inwards.
I had clicked on an upbeat playlist, but the universe is conspiring against me and sappy song after depressing one about heartbreak and loss comes on. I hit skip so many times I run out of skips. Frustrated, I kill the music and drive in silence. This is the price I pay for being too cheap to buy any of the subscription music services.
I look out the windshield at the verdant green of the passing mountains, like sleeping giants curled on their sides. Above is a brilliant and clear summer sky, endless blue. If I didn’t have inventory in the backseat, I would pull over and put the top down. Instead, I crank down my window and let the summer air whiz by my ear.
I breathe deeply and imagine the warm sunshine filling my lungs and diffusing out to every cell in my body like little molecules of oxygen. I visualize breathing out doubt, anger, sadness, and any other negative emotion renting space in my head.
I repeat this process, and after a few minutes, I feel a little lighter. I decide to put off sorting through my thoughts and feelings about Luke and McHottie until I can do it with someone with some amount of objectivity.
The scenery continues to whiz by while I steadily make my way to Mindy’s. The next thing I know, my GPS app reminds me my exit is coming up. I follow the directions through winding back roads, keeping an eye out for her hidden driveway when I get close. Even the GPS has a tough time finding this remote location.
There it is!
I buzz my little beetle up her driveway and am met by an explosion of dogs, cats, chickens, and kids. I get out, laughing and bracing for impact from past experiences of small people tackling my legs and animals getting underfoot.
True to form, her twins race over and wrap themselves around my legs. I make them squeal in delight as I walk stiff-legged, a kid sitting on each foot, sadness evaporating away with every step.
I pet whichever dog is butting my hand with a wet nose and make my way to Mindy’s back patio where she stands grilling. With this many human and animal mouths, someone is always eating, and she is always cooking. The normalcy is a balm to my sore feelings.
“Snacks on the table,” she announces, and all the kids take off running, the dogs chasing after them, leaving just Mindy and I in a few moments of stolen quiet. She grabs me up in a crushing hug, BBQ tongs still in hand. “You’re here now. Everything will be okay.”
Basking in the nearness of my chosen family, the last vestiges of my earlier funk disappear. “What can I do to help?”
“Open the wine.”
