Sitting in an unfamiliar rental car, Kristin tried to get her bearings. The car, with all the bells and whistles, was disorienting on a good day. But, coupled with a red eye flight, it was overwhelming. Her trip from Denver to Charlotte had been delayed due to thunderstorms in Colorado. She had waited, frustration barely in check, for 75 agonizing minutes on the tarmac. Finally, United # 367 took off and climbed into the darkening sky.
Sleep wouldn’t come on the plane and Kristin was too conservative about medication to even take extra strength Tylenol, let alone a sleeping pill. She had too much to process anyway. What would the coming days bring? How would she handle what she had been dreading since her first foray into adulthood? Just thinking exhausted her.
Thankfully, the flight was uneventful, and she managed to find her way to the rental car center in Charlotte without too much trouble. She felt raw and exposed, as if any slight altercation or hint of rudeness would cause her to dissolve into breath robbing sobs. It was almost like others could sense it, even complete strangers. People seemed to be a little gentler to her, gave her some space. The rental car attendant kindly put her bags in the trunk and explained the controls on the dashboard. He smiled at her, wishing her a pleasant trip.
That would prove impossible, Kristin thought as she followed the signs to the freeway. It was about a 30 minute drive from the airport to her parents’ house. She knew the route well, after having driven it many times since moving from Charlotte 10 years ago. All previous trips had been filled with excitement at seeing her mom and dad, relaxing in the safe haven of her childhood home, eating her favorite meals cooked by Mom, who would go to the grocery store about 7 times in the preceding week to get every food Kristin liked.
Now, the world seemed colder and lonelier. The brutality of survival was creeping closer. Her mom could always make it stay at the edges of her life, even from 1500 miles away. Now her mom was fading and so were her protector and chief advocate, the one who could pick up Kristin and brush her off, just like she did when she would take a tumble on the playground or when a high school boy would be careless with her heart.
She parked outside the house she knew and loved so much. It was a yellow two story on the corner of a quiet residential street, with 5 trees on the parkway, shading the home in the summer and draping it in vibrant colors come autumn. The little front porch, where Mom and Dad sat and watched the world go round, was empty. Two chairs and a little table with petunias sat on the porch. Everything looked the same on the outside, but on the inside, something had gone terribly wrong. Her mom was not supposed to get brain cancer, and certainly not a highly aggressive one like a glioblastoma. That happened to other people. Doctors were supposed to come back after exams with reassurances, not death sentences.
She let herself into the house and into her father’s arms for a long embrace. Heart pounding, she climbed the stairs up to her parents’ bedroom and quietly entered. The drapes were tightly drawn, but she could make out her mother lying on the bed, and an array of medicine bottles on the nightstand. She sat down on the chair next to the bed as her mother, who must have felt her presence, slowly turned her head to her.
“Mom, I’m here,” Kristin whispered as she leaned in to give her a kiss and gently lay her head on her mother’s chest. Her mom sighed and weakly caressed her hair, much like she did when Kristin was a girl. They stayed that for a long time, not speaking, one not wanting to let the other one go; until the time came when Kristin had no other choice.
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