“Favorite cookie?” I tossed out on a whim.
His body shook with laughter. “My grandma’s Christmas cookies.”
“Is your grandma still alive?”
“Yeah, the old woman is 91 and in better shape than me.” That part I had a hard time believing because the man was ripped. “You meet her, you’ll love her. She’s a spitfire.”
I doubted I’d ever be meeting his family, which saddened me because I really wanted to.
“Do your parents, grandma, sister and you get together often?”
It was his body that went tight this time, and I regretted my question. Whatever the answer was didn’t feel like it’d be a good one. I was about to change the question, but he answered.
“Dad, sister and Gran get together. My mom passed away from leukemia. So it’s just us now.”
His mom? That had to be difficult. “That sucks.”
That smile in his voice came back. “That is a much better response than ‘sorry for your loss’ or ‘is there anything I can do’. I know people are just trying to be nice, but it doesn’t help, and you hear it so much you want to scream. They couldn’t bring her back, and that would be the only thing that would help.”
“I bet she was a good mom, considering you didn’t turn out half bad,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood because the heaviness was weighing down the room, and I didn’t want that for him.
“She was the best. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she never made my sister or me feel it. Adopting us wasn’t easy, they said, but my mom couldn’t have biological kids and wanted a whole houseful. There just wasn’t enough money for that. So there were times when we had one package of mac n’ cheese for my parents, sister, and me to share. And we didn’t have milk and had to use water, so it didn’t taste right, but we ate it with a smile on our faces. We rationed food like you wouldn’t believe. I can’t tell you how many peanut butter sandwiches I ate. It wasn’t until later when Mom and Dad started getting assistance, and that helped.”
He spoke fondly of them, and I didn’t interrupt. I liked hearing of his childhood.
“My dad had chickens for fresh eggs. The rooster was ornery, though. Came after us whenever we went to get the eggs. I swore that thing was demented. One time it went after my sister to the point she was screaming. My dad kicked that rooster across the pen. DeeDee was traumatized and still talks about it to this day. The rooster was fine and went back to his mean ways.”
“We had chickens too, but luckily no attacking rooster.”
He chuckled. “I have lots of memories of my family. Of my mom. Really at the end of it, that’s all you have is memories. Like your mom creating a costume from scratch with shit at home because we couldn’t buy costumes, which she did every year for Halloween. One year it was grapes then a ghost, then a lion and so on. My sister didn’t like the hand-me-downs, but she got over it. I can still envision her holding me. Hugging me. Telling me that she loved me. It’s the memories that counted.”
I could tell this was hurting him yet helping him too. Like he was sad, but happy to share those things with me. I soaked up every word.
“When we were really little, my mom would put her queen-sized mattress in the front room against the wall so it was at an angle. I’d climb up to the top and slide down. Over and over and over again. My sister tried climbing up, but my mom had to help her, and she didn’t find the game as fun as I did. When we were a little bit older, my parents wanted to take us to the beach. We all loaded in the car and made our way down to Florida. Back then there were some seedy motels right across from the beach that didn’t cost a whole lot. They’d rent one of those and we’d spend a few days at the beach.”
“You really love her.”
“Yeah. Sometime I’ll show ya the picture I have of my mom and my hand holding each other. She was on hospice at home, dying, and we knew the end was very near. Something inside me said, take a picture holding your mom’s hand. So I did. My sister had it printed small for me to carry everywhere and enlarged it for me to hang on the wall. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“You were really lucky, Dry. She seems like a great woman.”
“The best. She was taken way too soon. I’d thought she’d be around for everything. My wedding, grandkids, all of it. Her missing those things hurts because I know in my heart of hearts she would’ve loved my kids, and now they’ll never know her love.
“I was there when she took her last breaths. All of us were there. It was late at night, and I was asleep in the recliner next to her, my sister in another, and my dad was in his room. For some reason I woke up and immediately knew that something wasn’t right.
When I touched her hand it was cold. Not the cold you were from outside in the winter, but cold and hard in a way I’d never felt. I watched her chest, trying to see it rise and fall, but it didn’t. When I put my hand on her chest, it was still.
She was gone. A bright sunshine of happiness just gone in the blink of an eye.”
My heart broke for him. I had no idea how he was able to deal with finding his mom dead.
“I told my sister to go upstairs because I didn’t want her to see her mom like that. Didn’t want the last memories of her to be cold, mouth opened and pale. It was mine, and it was a hard sight to see.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around him and pressed my body as close to him as I could, hoping to give him comfort.
“When the hospice nurse came to call the coroner, I had to sit with her and go through all of Mom’s meds. She had a ton of them, and with each one she dumped them in kitty litter. All I could think was, she was having me go through my mom’s meds, while my mom is dead in the other room. Is this woman demented?”
“That had to be hard,” I finally responded.
“Hardest thing to date, but I kept on pushin’ through, trying desperately for my family not to feel the brunt of the pain. Not that it worked. It made me realize that I needed to enjoy the time I have with everyone else I have in my life. Sometimes the end comes faster than anyone imagined.”
“How’s your dad?”
“He’ll never be settled with her loss. Ever. He woke up as soon as I turned on the lights, saying he knew something was wrong. He held her hand and cried until it was time to take her to the funeral home. He visits her grave every day without question. He says he talks to her there. But every day he gets up and keeps goin’. He pushes through, and I admire him for that.” He cleared his throat. “Be happy to talk about this another time, but can we change topics?”
Of course. It sounded like a brilliant plan to me. The room was so heavy with his sorrow, and I needed to bring some laughter to defuse it. “Well, I know your favorite movie is Trolls.”
Out of the blue Dryerson started tickling me, and I tried to get away from his fingertips, but there wasn’t much use. “I’m gonna make you watch that with Remy nonstop tomorrow.”
“No.” I said, laughing, not afraid in the least at his touch. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
He kept tickling me, and I squirmed uncontrollably. “Yep. For that comment, you’re gonna get it.”