Short Story/ A memorably day , page 1

It was a normal Thursday afternoon. July 7, 2002. Had just cut the grass.
Came in for a cold glass of iced tea. It was a hot July. The kind that reminded me of '89 with brutal temps, 28 days plus 90's and grueling Sundays on our companies softball team.

It was 2:20. Burned into my mind as the phone rang. It was my estranged sister. 'Mom's dead.'
The phone leaped out my hand like it had a life of its own barely missing the kitchen sink full of soapy water as I screamed "No!!!!'.

I picked the the phone back up with shaking hands. 'I need you here, my sister spoke'. The words barely registering.

My sister lived in Wooster, my brother in NC. I was her mainline in staying out of a nursing home. She felt fluish that former weekend. Cold meds were on the list of her grocery list I always picked up every weekend for her. She had been unable to do her almost daily half mile walk to church for over three years now.

She always always gave me a twenty. As much as I protested. 'Mom, I make plenty....keep it!' She was always adamant. We'd spend a few hours visiting. Take care of anything around the house that needed fixed.

I walked to the garage, numb. Jumped into the '91 ford sho five speed I'd taken a greyhound down to PA to buy from my brother in 2000. My gmc g20 stepvan was hard on gas. And I always loved the look of that snowball white sho. Five on the floor with a marine engine stock.

I made the 8 mile ride to my mom's house. Mostly on riding on impulse power. In my mind as clear and loud as a bell I could hear her admonishing me 'Take it easy! I'm not going anyplace.'

Perfect mothers dry wit. I considered blasting my Ramones cd but wanted the silence to be alone with my thoughts.

My sister waited for me on the front porch. She had already pried the storm door open and had entered with her key. 'She's upstairs, next to the bed she clipped'. She was too shaking and crying, but our mutual ever present animosity was apparent.

Entering her always perfectly maintained home the smell of death was like a pall. I had just spoke with her on tuesday to see how she was doing with the flu. She could only have been gone a day or two. My legs felt like they weighed a thousand lbs apiece as we crested the stairs. I literally had to take my keys and wallet out of my pants and tossed them in the corner at the top.

Balled up in a curious ball she curled up in a kneeling seized position was her final moment. Then the floodgates opened. I had not had an asthma attack for 17 yrs but I was suddenly clawing at her window to suck in some gulps of air. She had her a/c on but of course in her depression era mode had it set to 85, it was still ungodly hot in the little brick duplex.

The medics and police showed up almost moments later. Two female CPD's big girls. They veiwed the seen. One reached under the pillow and pulled out some tissues my mom would keep there. All our family has sinus problems and pronounced 'ah stalla babba'. Now the floodgates were fully open. The other cop came over to hold me. I felt bad blubbering on her uniform.

I made the formalities as I got home. Called my brother who was on holiday in Bermuda with his family. My boss to tell him I'd be on bereavement. I hit the stoly sitting at the dining room table. Crys that were almost like howls. Not my greatest version of british stiff upper lip.
As my two dogs curled at my feet.

The next evening my favorite neighbors were having a huge party. They were both school teachers for 30 plus years. The wife Beverly was just retiring. Jack had retired a few years in advance. It was surreal sitting there feigning to be happy and congratulatory. A pic from Dali's head.

[edit on 6-11-2008 by worldwatcher]