Thirty Four {}{}{}{} Nature's Might

For the last three months, Anna's mother was in the hospice section of the nursing home. What did it mean? She knew what that monstrous word meant but she wanted to translate it in a different way. "No, not end of life, not no hope." There was no light at the end of this dark tunnel for her poor mother; and she hated to admit that she wished a halt for this prolonged misery. She thought about her mother's life and gradually she understood her bitterness when she was not in this desperate condition. Standing behind the window, looking at the wild storm, she investigated her mother's life. She would be forty one years old in a little over a week. Her life was even more vain than her mother's. What was the reason of their lives? Why some people's lives was doomed from the beginning? She did not know the answer.
In her cold, lonely bed, all her past marched in front of her eyes like a passing train. Her swift imagination moved back and forth to pleasant memories and then to the ones she wanted to forget. She remembered that inauspicious morning when she had found Steve drowned in his blood in bed next to her. That vision was so real as if was happening at the present moment. She stretched her hand to touch him, but her hand got wet with his blood. She could see his lifeless body; but his face was hollow. There was no face, no eyes, as though a wild animal had had a feast by ravaging his face.
Then it was Aria's image that tortured her. Oh, God, how much she loved her older brother! Then it came her father's image. If he had been stern towards many people including her mother, he was the best father any girl could wish for. Where was he now? Was all his body transfigured to skeleton? Did the insects ravaged all his flesh by now? She even did not know where he was buried. She had never had the chance to say good-bye to him or to pay her last respect.
After a night of retrospecting, at six in the morning, Anna was warming her car to go to see her mother. Her eyes were red and swollen of not sleeping and crying the entire night. Streets were covered with a sheet of ice. Backing up her car, the tires skidded and she almost hit the car next to hers. Her heart began palpitating. Her mother's new shawl was inside a gift wrapped box on the passenger seat. "I Hope she likes it." She said aloud.
There was no traffic in the streets. It seemed as if the big D was dead. "It is Saturday morning." She thought. It was not raining anymore; but the nature had done its damage. She saw many abandoned cars on the highway, many left over accidents from the early morning commuters. If she could only concentrate on the road, she would make it safely. Over a bridge, her car skidded and she almost hit the concrete medium. The car turned around and faced the opposite direction before she was able to stop it. The workers who were throwing sands on the bridge came to her help. She was so frightened that she did not know how to rescue herself. One of the worker drove her car until it was not on the bridge anymore.
"Be careful. What are you doing out this early Saturday morning?'
"I am going to see my mother." She answered. "Thanks for helping me."
If she could only hold the steering wheel tight and do not push the break suddenly as that worker had told her, she could make it. The twenty minutes drive took her over one hour. She parked the car, picked her mother's gift, and walked into the building. It was seven thirty in the morning.
Inside the building, one of the nurses who knew Anna caught a glimpse of her. The nurse ran after her since Anna was walking so fast. When she finally caught up with Anna, she said: "Did you get our message?"
Anna's heart stopped beating. "What message?"
"We left you a message at six thirty."
"I was on the road coming here. What happened? Is my mom okay?"
"I am sorry. That is why we wanted to contact you. We found her dead this morning. I think she passed early in the morning because I checked on her at three and she was asleep."
Anna could not believe how matter of factly the nurse spoke to her. Her mouth was dry. She felt tears welling up. Her throat was tight. The gift wrapped box of her mother's shawl fell on the floor and she ran to her mother's room. She found her mom in her bed peaceful at last. The color of her face was pink, like a baby; her eyes closed, perhaps resting of a long life of struggle. She had never seen her mother this beautiful. The nurse, who had followed her to the room, handed her the box. She ripped the gift paper from the box and took out the shawl; cast out the blanket on the floor and covered her mother with the shawl. "Mom, I thought you may like this." Tears finally came down in streams. She began combing her mother's white hair; fixing the pillow under her head, and straightening her dress. She took the shawl and wrapped it around her mother's shoulders; picked up the blanket and covered the rest of her body that was not covered with shawl.
The doctor told her that she had died at six in the morning without regaining her consciousness.
"I didn't know that she was unconscious." Anna's eyes pierced the doctor through.
"I assume she was."
*
Anna drove. The sky was blue now. The ice on the road was mostly melted. She drove and drove. She did not know where she was going or running away from. There were some billowy white clouds in the sky. She stopped the car, got out, and walked for awhile. She did not know where she was. Nobody was there. As she stood there, leaning to the concrete shoulder of the highway, wind was blowing her hair. The weather had strangely changed from the twenty of yesterday to upper fifties. She whispered:
"Now I am alone again. I can't even go to my home."
In that moment she knew that imagination meant the savage loneliness, the empty roads with no lights at dusk. She watched a big truck passed by taking with it all her hopes. It passed over a bridge and then it was gone for ever. She looked around. Every direction she looked, there was nothing but horizon. There was not even a bird, a tree, a mountain, a lake, nothing. The only thing there was nothingness. It was only the highway winding to eternity. She felt as though the nature had forsaken her with no friends, no hope, and no place to go.
She remembered her mother's motionless face which showed no sign of living as if she never existed. Getting back into her car, she took a last glimpse of the sky. Somewhere in west sun was in fire. It was the most beautiful picture she had seen. The rays of that orange ball penetrated her existence. She halted for a second. The sky was unbroken, not like her heart; but like a perfect dream. She sighed.
"Tomorrow is a new day!"

To Be Continued

Thirty Four ///// Nature's Might

Anna closed her eyes. She was tired as her mother was. But soon she forgot her fatigue looking at her poor mother sitting there with the light weighted blanket over her shoulder and looking at her with spiritless eyes. "What is she feeling?" Anna thought. "what is she thinking? Does she think I am here because it is a right thing to visit your sick mother?" She could see the meaningless smile in the corner of her mother's mouth which did not match the misery she was going through.
Her mother had done things that she had never imagined, had said words that constantly echoed in her ears, and had asked questions of past, her past which Anna was not sure how to answer them when she was well. Now in that colorless nursing home full of artificial colors, she was just contented with the little importance of present. And what was the glory to her? Anna did not know.
She studied Alzheimer disease and talked to her mother's doctor; however the conclusion was that this dreadful monster was not curable and gradually all brain cells would die or be damaged beyond repair. Her mother's symptoms were not only memory loss which was typical for this disease, but it was also enfeebled disablement in her mental and bodily functional conduct. How long would she last so the suffering would end? Nobody knew.
At one point, Anna decided to take her mom back home and hire a nurse, but Fatie's doctor thought that was not a good idea. She needed round a clock observation and care. There was no possibility for Anna to give that attention to her mother. A nurse would not stay 24/7. She looked into her mother's hollow eyes that blinked uncontrollably. Her face was as white as the color of her hair. "Mom, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking!" Anna would ask Fatie hoping she might one day answer her.
She found all these by no means consoling and doubted if there was any virtue in the fairness of God. By the law of nature, she knew all living things should die one day; but could it be any easy, painless death instead of a prolonged disease, or the killing of the enemy, or the massacre of people who had different opinion or religion? How Could God create people like Hitler or Khomeini, or the dictators that wanted everything for themselves? She just could not grip any longer the pain in her mother's bony face.
After a year Fatie being in the nursing home with all the medical expenses and the cost of the hotel like nursing home which the insurance covered only a small portion of it, and medicare had sent her a letter that her mother had used all her benefits, Anna was drained of energy and money; but she still was getting her check from CIA and she still was working but not full time anymore because of caring for her mother. The reduction of money and energy for the first time affected her in a very peculiar way. She looked at people without problem, she assumed, and faintly and sardonically envied them contrary to a smile on her face. Her life, she thought, since she was a teenager to present that she was a grown up woman had been one misery and disaster after the other.
She was glad that she was single, away from the emotion of being in love with a man; for falling in love to her could not happen more than once. However she still remembered the intensity and fervor of her first love. It had been passion, fire, and a strain, too. But now at age forty one, she looked at married couple with children and then looked at her empty life, empty bed, the responsibilities, and all the tragedies. Was life worth all these? She did not even remember how it was to sleep with a man or have an orgasm. No, she just did not have any memory of it; no remembrance of warmth, comfort, love, passion, or even kissing or snuggling. Suddenly everything was dark.
All these non- existing memories took her back more into herself, into her despondency, and introspection. They all had been her demons for many years. Her letter to Stacy remained unanswered; so she had finally given up. Seeing her mother everyday, she also wondered if her mother in her non- functioning state, felt as she did. Wanting to believe that her mother was still thinking and feeling, she wondered if that old soul traveled into her past with Anna, her daughter, who was an oblivious witness of her mother's fancy.
Fatie was so silent yet reflective that Anna thought that she could swiftly erase not only herself but her soul and spirit which would startle her daughter. Anna tried to read her mind, to see if there were any feelings or thought left there; but disappointed she knew that the people around her mother did not mean anything to her; and world had just lost its glory to her so had for Anna. Her mother had passed that line between awareness and numbness, and she had chosen the second one with no return.
In one of her vision, she recalled her first sight of Iran, thirteen years ago, when something had stormed into her soul like a sudden rain. Then she had just oscillated thanking God for seeing that sacred land again in which her ancestors had cried, lived, died; and in which she was born. Now that land, to her, was gone, so were her fathers and mothers. The greatness of it was over. That land had slain her dreams.
Now confidence was not a quality she valued. In fact, she valued nothing, for she did not want to get disheartened by her own self- assurance. Occasional elation she felt, was like a drunken ecstasy. She hardly could rescue herself from her dark prison, her mind's prison.
One afternoon in December, a sudden cold front came through Dallas from west. The twenty degree temperature pierced her through. She remembered that morning she had all the windows open. Since her mother's rescue from Turkey, Anna lived on a first floor apartment which had two full bath. At the time she wanted to do every right thing for her mother. This place had north and side windows that Anna always opened them to air the house. That was how most houses in Iran were built. Having fresh air was one of her luxuries; and she knew that her mother liked it, too. Now this; the famous saying that Texas weather changes with a blink of an eye. It was Friday and she was happy that she did not have to work for the next three days. Mary had asked her if she wanted to go Christmas shopping with her and then have dinner at the Mal. Anna had nobody to shop for except a few people from work. She had already picked up Mary's present; nonetheless, she recalled the old, worn out blanket her mother would not let go of it.
"I guess I can buy a shawl for mom. I think she'll like it." She said to Mary.
In the Mal, she looked for a long time to find the perfect shawl for her mother. She wanted something warm and light weighted since her mother felt cold even in warm weather. Today with this sudden cold was a perfect time to give her mom the shawl. She wanted to buy something which would be lively and colorful yet conservative; and she found it in Neiman Marcus. It was a cashmere shawl, camel color, big enough to cover all her mother's body yet light enough to not irritate her. It was made in Italy and she paid a big money for it. She wanted to return home after her purchase but she felt obligated to follow Mary until she finished her shopping. Around eight they ate pizza and watched the frenzied people doing their last minute shopping. Christmas was only a few days away.
When they left the Mal, the cold struck them both. They ran to their cars which were parked next to each other. Mary asked her if she wanted to go to her home and watch a movie with her and her husband.
"No, thanks Mary. I should be going home. The weather is really bad."
"Okay, how is your mother by the way? You don't talk about her much."
"What can I say? She is not getting any better. They told me that she is not eating. Sometimes they have to force feed her. I am so scared."
"That is a bad sign. I feel for you, Anna. Is there anything I can do?"
"No one can do anything for me or her. At the top of everything her ulcer is getting worse, too. Sometimes I feel she acts like a child, or she wants to die."
Rain started to fall with vengeance. Friends said good-bye. Driving home, the rain fell with such intensity that it bounced back from the windshield. They sounded like little rocks hitting her car. She realized that rain had changed to sleet. walking from Parking area to her apartment, the wind whistled so fiercely that she thought if there was a clarity, the judgement would be a hesitant one. She felt guilty for not seeing her mother that day; however she thought she would go the next morning no matter what the weather would be like.

To Be Continued

Thirty Four, Nature's Might

The glimmer, let it not
Glow meager but about.
And above those eyes that have not
What most living have, and you not.
*
There, in that boundless nullity's night
Be true to nature and it's might.
And let not a shallow rapture's delight
Take you to the fears plight.
*
And live there anew and be one with earth.
Your soul's life will renew its birth
When many never reborn after death,
But you can take a new, fresh breath.
*
Life in general was not cheerful, but now was more stagnant and darker than before. Frequently Anna thought about her life. She was forty years old now, who had lived for the past ten years with her bitter mother. But now her seventy years old mother was ill. She began forgetting things, misplacing things. It came a point that sometimes she did not even recognize Anna. Torn between her job and taking care of her mother, she thought her career was the only leisure thing she had and it was and had been for good deeds. How could she quit that and stay home with her mother? Therefore she hired a sitter who would keep her mother from harming herself, feed her and make sure that she was eating but not playing with her food, and she was not walking away and far from house and be lost. It all worked out for awhile and then sitter quit. She said she could not communicate with Fatie who did not speak English.
Talking to her mother's doctor, he recommended that nursing home was her best choice. As hard as it was for her to do that, she felt she had no other option, so she did it. One good thing about it was that her mother at this point did not know what Anna had done to complain about it and tell her that under the same circumstances she had done the same for her father; and besides she started to like the nursing home. There were seldom days that Anna was not able to visit her mother. Those days were her worst. She felt as though she had abandoned her mother and she felt guilty for putting her in the nursing home; nonetheless, she knew that was a logical things. Every evening after work, she would buy herself and mother food and go there and they had dinner together. Mother had a private room and she was in the best nursing home that Anna knew about.
Her mother's empty place at home was devastating; and she wondered day after day if the sense of guilt that had captured her since her mother was gone had any validity or not. All she knew that she was feeling guilty for many things and now particularly for this. She would cry and mourn looking at the pictures of her loved ones or the map of Iran, her native land. She would mourn and cry to think about them; and she would cry of the thought that her mother was in a nursing home.
She was pushing forty while her life was fruitless. She would cry hysterically for not having a child. She had this habit that if she was thirty nine and seven months old, to say that she is forty. Never in her life she had made her self younger but always the opposite. She thought about the last ten years and recalled many things about it; but one thing she remembered the most was her mother's refusal to master or at least to try to learn American culture, or the language. Now she understood why, for she, who had learned the culture, now knew how painful it was to know about those two entirely different cultures. She had never told her mother that how totally obnoxious her behavior was without breaking her self-esteem. Now she was glad that she had not.
Her mother had to live in that dull house even it was one of the best nursing home in Dallas, until her time would come; her death would appear. Her Alzheimer combined with a battle with ulcer that she had had for very long time were not getting any better. She would look at her mother's eyes with realization that her mother did not recognized her. She thought how little she knew about the pain and suffering of the older people. Somehow she always understood the pain of the children, but no, she could not understand this pain, the pain of being old.
At night she would sit in her apartment with no light thinking mostly about her last trip to Tehran, when she had last seen her father and nursed him to health, and she had seen the early morning obscurity. She would remember the day she asked Reza, her father's driver, to take her to south of Tehran. This was only a day before her departure. There, she had seen the revolutionaries much more vehement. Why had they been so heated? She slowly came to understand them, their misery, and their misfortune. But at the same time, she sighed, "why my father? He hadn't done anything to you?" She remembered the city in the early morning, which was always magnificent; even though smog with drought adhered to it. The haze of the pollution disturbed even Alborz Mountain nearby. She was happy to see that the women of her country with so much courage shared this revolution with men. But she was perceptive at the same time that she was not part of the revolution or those women. By immigrating, she had lost her voice. Their voice and what they wanted which most of them did not know what they were, was different than hers. Her idea of right and wrong was only emerged from the security of her home in America. People had asked her about which place was better to live, Iran or America; however that question always remained unanswered. She, herself, did not know the answer. She conjured up her sadness by people's lack of imagination; when they had not visualized the wretchedness of the future when the new regime would be in full power, when they took Americans hostage, and when they closed all the doors to everything civilized. The revolution took Iran back to a world of centuries before; and the little opportunities that women had during the Shah's ruling, all disappeared. Sometimes she even lied about her nationality, even though she had no accent. "Where are you from?" "Texas," "No, originally?" "Italy," She loved Italy or as Persians say "Italia."

To Be Continued