Holding On (Hooking Up) (18 page)

Isamu was in the middle of a class when I arrived. The students were young, perhaps six or seven years old. They were adorable in the little
gi
s,
white belts tied firmly around their waists. A few of them frowned as they concentrated on the
kata
they did as a group, and one, obviously a star pupil, led the others in the movements.

“
O teishi
,” Isamu said. It was a word I’d heard hundreds of times in the past. It was the command to stop. The little boys obviously knew what he meant and as one, they straightened up, bowed to Isamu and the leader of the
kata
, and stood in neat rows, awaiting his next command. I was impressed at the control those boys displayed, the firm grasp of leadership Isamu had on his little charges.

He dismissed them quietly, praising each of them as they left the room. One little guy threw his arms around Isamu’s waist and beamed up at his sensei. “Thanks, Isamu. I’ll see you next week.”

“Have a good day, my son. You did well today.”

The boy beamed again and scampered off.

“Your son?” I asked with a smile.

“He has no one. His foster family thought he would benefit from some structure and a release for his energy. He is a good boy.”

I smiled. Isamu was, I knew, the patron saint of lost little kids. He had helped to heal me, and it was obvious he had another little soul to save.

“I love you, Isamu.
My father.”

He smiled at me and said, “I love you too, my daughter. What brings you here today? How is Mother?”

I crumpled then, and he ushered me to the teak benches along the far dojo wall. I sat down heavily and sobbed. He let me finish, studying me silently the whole time. When the storm had finally passed, he regarded me for another moment, then spoke.

“I am very sorry to see your pain.”

“She’s going to leave me, too. Just like everyone else.”

“She is not leaving you, Caitlin. She will leave this earth, but not your soul. There is a difference.”

“I’d rather have her here on this earth.”

“Does Grandmother know?”

“Gran and I don’t speak anymore. The last time I tried to talk to her, she accused Maria of being a gold digger and accused me of being impulsive and ruining my life. I can’t talk to her about anything without her judging me or making rude comments.”

“Grandmother is afraid, I think. She does not want to be unneeded. She is used to being the only female in your life. She feels threatened.”

“Grandmother is a right bitch who needs to learn to keep her mouth shut and quit being so stinking judgmental.”

“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” Isamu said gravely.

“That’s not a Japanese proverb.”

“No, but it rings very true.”

“I know. It’s hard to let go.”

“Caitlin, it is wise to spend as much time letting go as we spend holding on.”

“I’m just not ready.”

“Some people are only meant to stay with us for a time. They enter our lives, leave their mark, and then they move on. It’s not that they mean to leave us with sorrow. It’s that they accomplish what they were meant to.”

“But I don’t want her to leave. I’m not ready to let her go yet. I was so happy she was with me. I had it all.”

“You must learn that tears deepen a smile. We cannot learn true happiness without experiencing true sorrow.”

“I know. But I’m still not ready.”

“What else is troubling you?”

I sighed heavily. “Nothing, really. It’s just that everything is changing. We just bought the house, and then Mom got sick, so we moved her in with us. Benjie had just seemed to accept the baby and then Mom got sick, and now he’s misbehaving again, and I’m not talking to Gran anymore. Everything is different. I feel like everything is falling apart. I don’t even feel like I have the right to be happy about the baby or the house, not with all the bad stuff happening.”

“What does Ryan say about all this?”

“He’s been great, but we haven’t had a chance to spend any real time together since my Mom got sick. And I know he’s concerned about Benjie, too. I feel like I’m neglecting both him and Ryan to take care of my mother. What do I do?”

“Daughter, you have many things going on, but you are strong. You will find a way to put your house in order. I have faith in you.”

It was essentially what Mom had said. “Thanks, Isamu. I wish I did.”

He stood and gave me a shallow bow. “I must prepare for my next class. Yellow belts. They are learning much and will be able to advance soon. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

I sat for a while, mulling my sensei’s latest bit of wisdom. I had experienced a lot of sorrow in my life, it was true. Wasn’t it my turn at true happiness? Why did the sorrow just keep on coming? Why did fate feel the need to test me every single time I thought I had things figured out?

Well, sitting here wasn’t making the answers come any clearer, and my family needed me. I had to go home and tend to them.

Driving home in silence, I pondered my life and the many changes that had taken place in such a short time. I recalled the wonderful feelings I’d felt when I first laid eyes on my mom, how happy I was when I found out I was pregnant, how wonderful it felt to be adored by my little stepson. I also always knew where I stood with Isamu, and that was firmly within his family. Yes, I had known sorrow, but the happiness far outweighed it.

I’d get through this. And I’d see my mom through it, too. We’d prove those doctors wrong. There were stories on the news all the time about people who defied the odds and walked away from incredible catastrophes. When the will to survive was strong, there was nothing that could stand in the way.

And hell, while I was at it, I’d lavish Benjie with even more love and show him just how special he was. I’d fix him, too.

I’d also start spending more time with Ryan. He deserved a lot more attention. He’d been so good with everything that had happened, and it was time I showed him just how grateful I was for him.

And as for Gran, well, good luck with that. Sometimes, you had to accept that a lost cause was just that. I might have felt capable of anything right at that moment, but moving mountains was a little out of my league.

Humming a little, I picked up the pace and drove home. It’s funny how much better I always felt after spending time with my father-figure and mentor. He was the wisest man I knew, and I was lucky to have him.

Chapter 22

Mom’s procedures didn’t exactly go smoothly and it was two weeks before she was able to come home. She looked like she’d been through a war, fighting for the losing side. She looked truly awful and her skin had taken on a translucence that worried me. Her hair grew brittle and even grayer and clumps fell out whenever she brushed it.

Her body ached all the time and the nausea was nearly unbearable. I’d walk past the bathroom and there she’d be, sitting on the ground with her face hovering over the toilet bowl. Probably the most disturbing thing, however, was the blood she spat into the toilet after every heave. I did my best to be there for her and take care of her, but I was so exhausted from carrying my burden that I wasn’t much help. Ryan, bless him, had been a rock, bringing Hospice in for Mom to help her do things she couldn’t do on her own anymore, like showering and moving up and down the stairs. They even helped me when Ryan wasn’t home. When he was home, I watched him lavish the best of care on my mom and felt my heart fill near to bursting with love.

She was so weak she could barely even shuffle from room to room. The bright, vivacious woman she had been was gone. In her place was a woman who looked old before her time, wasting away with every passing day.

Two weeks into January, Mom slept late. I attributed it to the hustle and bustle of the holidays. She’d overdone it, but since we weren’t allowed to discuss her health anymore, we hadn’t been able to question her or suggest she take it easy. And honestly, she had looked good over the past few days. Yes, she’d still been ill and wan, but there was a spark in her eyes, a little flicker of life that had been missing before. She looked alive again, and deep in my heart, I’d even thought she was getting better. I’d foolishly thought that maybe Santa had given me a belated gift, the present I’d wanted most: my mother, with me forever.

It was Hospice’s day off and she had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for eleven.  It wasn’t like her to sleep late. By ten o’clock, I got worried that she’d miss her appointment, so I went up to get her. There was no answer at her bedroom door, and I knocked louder, thinking she was sleeping unusually heavily.

There was still no answer and it occurred to me that she might have already gotten up and left when I was in the bathroom taking a shower. I called for Ryan. “Did you see Mom leave this morning?”

“No, her car is still in the driveway. She’s not answering your knock?”

“No. I think I should go in there. Wait here in case she’s getting dressed or something.”

I opened the door and peeked inside. With a shriek, I lumbered to the right side of the bed. She was lying on the floor, unconscious.

Ryan ran inside and crouched down beside her. “She’s not breathing. I’m going to start CPR. Call the ambulance.”

He began chest compressions as I dialed 911 with shaking fingers. Benjie must have heard the commotion because he came into the room and started crying as he saw Ryan working on his grandmother.

“Stop, Daddy, you’re hurting her! Stop it!” He was screaming and I couldn’t get him to calm down. My heart was beating out of my chest and the baby felt like it was doing flips inside me. I grabbed Benjie to me and backed out of the room. I couldn’t bear to watch the scene unfolding before me.

The ambulance seemed to take forever. Benjie cried the whole time, pushing against me, trying to get back to Mom’s side. I couldn’t let him do it. I didn’t dare let him go back in there, afraid of what he’d see. I didn’t want to see it, either.

When the ambulance arrived, they took one look at my mother, still being worked on by Ryan, and loaded her onto the stretcher. “Bag her,” one said to another, and for a minute I worried that he was talking about a body bag. But he pulled out an oxygen bag and strapped it onto my mother’s face and took over CPR while his partner started an IV.

Ryan walked down with the stretcher, performing chest compressions on the fly, talking the whole time about her medical history. I watched, numb, as they loaded her up into the ambulance and took her away.

“Come on. I think we need to be there.” Ryan looked at me with grim eyes. As a cop, he’d seen this type of incident before. He’d even told me before that dying people had a special look to them, like they were hovering between two worlds. One foot over each threshold, I think he’d called it. As I searched his face, I knew he thought my mother had that same look about her. My legs buckled and the ground came up to meet me.  Thankfully, Ryan seemed to have anticipated my faint, and he caught me before I hit the ground. I shook my head as the world turned gray, but I recovered quickly. I couldn’t fall apart now. Mom needed me.

We dropped a frantic Benjie off at Isamu’s dojo and raced to the hospital. She was being worked on by the medical team when we got there. They took one look at me and wouldn’t allow me near her. Instead, they put me in a chair and told me to stay put until they called me.

Tears streamed down my cheek, and I was surprised to feel mild contractions begin. It couldn’t be time for the baby to come yet, not now! Mom needed me. And I needed Mom. My mind raced and only two thoughts crossed my mind: I can’t do this right now! I can’t do this without her!

I put my face in my hands and simply prayed.

The contractions eased, and I realized they weren’t labor pains. Probably just Braxton-Hicks. Feeling a bit calmer now, I raised my head and looked around the room. Ryan was conferring with a doctor and they both glanced over to me. The doctor said something to Ryan and he frowned but nodded. He walked over to me and said, “Catie, you need to come with me.”

I stood but my legs felt like they’d been frozen into quickset concrete. I couldn’t move. Instinctively I knew what was going to happen and I didn’t think I could do it. How can you tell someone good-bye when you’re not done with them yet?

“Come on, honey.” He put his arm around me and led me into the room. It had been darkened slightly and the curtains were closed. Oxygen prongs were stuck in her nose. Her eyes were closed, and against her pale cheeks, her closed eyelids looked like bruises. She was covered to the armpits in a snowy white blanket and her face was nearly the same color.

“Mom?” I said, a sob catching in my throat and turning my voice husky. Her eyelids fluttered open and she reached one feeble hand for me.

And then I was at her side, focusing on her face with all my might; that face, so like mine, so dear to me and so fragile, thin and pale now instead of open and smiling.

“Catie, honey, don’t worry,” she said on a whisper.

“I love you,” I whispered back.

“I love you, too. My greatest achievement.”

“Mom, don’t talk. Just relax. Rest.”

“I have to tell you something,” she said, a single tear sliding down her papery cheek.

“What?”

“I don’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. I feel …” her voice drifted away, soft as petals on a breeze.

“Mom?” I asked, my voice rising a bit.

“Love you. Be happy. Take care of … baby. Benjie. Love Benjie. I’ll miss …”

And then she was gone. The heart monitor she was connected to began to hum unbrokenly as her heartbeat fell flat. There was no rushing around, no doctors calling a code and beginning heroic measures to bring her back. She didn’t want that. She had simply slipped away, as gently as if she were drifting to sleep. And the beauty of it somehow managed to swallow up some of the pain I felt.

She no longer felt pain. It was over for her.

But it was just beginning for me, and I wondered how the hell I’d ever learn to live without her.
 

Chapter 23