~~ CHAPTER 1 ~~
I never dreamed when I would lose my mom, it would be a heartbreaking
mystery, one that would never be solved.
“There is no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say
it,” Dad started. “Your mom has died,” he said to me. “Who?” I said. “Your mom,” he repeated. Again I asked who? “Your mom, Kate; Kate has died.” Andy jumped out of his chair and came over to
me, knelt down and repeated what my dad had just told me. It would not register. I could not hear
it. I shut down and watched myself as if
I was watching a movie. Watching a movie
meant it was not real. It was just a story—a Lifetime movie being played out on
the TV screen.
* *
* *
Andy and I were in Fort Lauderdale for a short trip. We had just moved from Ohio to Idaho a few
months earlier. Andy was working with a
group of doctors and attending an audiology meeting. Since I was not yet working, I decided to go
along. My days were spent alone, since Andy
was in meetings, but I was going to relax by the pool, read, maybe go for
walks, even though I was not the type to venture out on my own. I felt depressed that week and wanted to call
Mom just to chat. I even went back to
our room and picked up the phone once or twice, but then I felt silly crying on
her shoulder about being so homesick. I
did not want her thinking I was unhappy.
I knew this was a good move for us, for Andy’s career, and probably the
homesickness would slowly abate. Mom would worry if I told her I was having a
hard time adjusting. So I did not call.
I had called her before we left for Florida. It was a Friday afternoon, and I wanted her
to know we would be away for a few days.
She sounded great, sounded happy for us.
The last words I heard from her before we hung up were “Tell Andy I love
him.” I knew exactly why she said
that. She knew Andy felt bad about us
leaving her. We had been married for 17
years by that time, and she was used to us living near her. My brother and
sister lived out of state, but Andy and I lived a few miles from her. She rarely asked us for help. Mom was so
independent and so adamant about not ever being a burden to her kids,
especially since her mother-in-law was more than interfering. So she fully supported this move for us.
A few days before we left Akron for the last time, Mom threw
a family party for us. Pamela Joy and Patrick
and the nephews and nieces were there, along with my cousins. It was such a good time. I can remember at
one point Mom was just sitting in her favorite chair watching all the
activity. There was such a sense of
peace and happiness on her face, almost like a physical aura. Family meant everything to her, and there was
nothing better than having us all together.
On moving day, Mom stopped by and gave me a crystal creamer
and pitcher. She wanted me to have something from her house for my new
home. I was surprised to see her drive
up. She had a smile on her face as she stepped out of the car.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Okay,” I replied, “but it sure is taking longer than I
thought it would. I guess we’ll get it done eventually, though.”
“You’ll be on your
way before you know it,” Mom replied. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you
a little something I wanted you to have from my house to your new Idaho
home. It’s just one of my creamer and
pitcher sets, but since it’s pretty plain, I thought it would look nice however
you decorate the house.” She might as
well have given me diamonds, that gift was that precious to me.
She did not stay long, because Mom never wanted to interfere,
as if she could! I didn’t want her to leave because I didn’t know when I
would see her again. It had been such a
great summer. Andy left in early June
for Idaho, and I stayed behind to hopefully sell the house. Andy had accepted the job in the spring after
we flew out there for an interview. He
went back for a quick trip to get a little bit of training in before he
actually started. When he got back, we
spent six weeks doing a marathon update of the house. We painted, wallpapered, pulled up
carpeting. Just about every nook and cranny
of the house was spiffied up and looked perfect for selling. The day Andy left for Idaho, I had a hard time
saying good-bye. I knew we would be
together at some point, but not knowing how long that would be was really
hard. Andy told me later, as he was
driving down the street from the home he grew up in and lived his married life
for 17 years, that he could not fight back the tears.
We moved to Idaho in October, but because both of us were
not ready to spend the holidays alone, we came back to Ohio that November for
Thanksgiving. We went to my sister’s in
Pittsburgh. It had been a long time
since the whole family was together for that day. My brother and his kids came, and Pamela Joy’s
kids were there, and even Mom’s first great-grandchild was there to celebrate
the day, only a little over a month old.
It was an absolutely perfect day.
It was the last day we all spent together with Mom. It was a gift from God. There is no question in my heart and soul it
was a gift from God. He knew this would
be our last time together.
* *
* *
“What happened?” I said it so matter-of-factly that you
would have thought my dad had just told me he dented his fender. His reply was to call my sister, and she
would give me the details. So I called
my sister, again acting as if I was checking up on a minor car accident. She was scared for me and told my brother to
call me, which he did. He asked me if I
was okay, to which I replied I was fine.
I was coming to Akron right away; Andy would make the arrangements. Mr. Spock from Star Trek would have been
proud of my logical demeanor. I was
fine, just fine. I had lucked out big
time. Because my brother and sister had
moved away when they married, I knew it would be up to me to deal with telling
them when Mom was seriously ill or had died. They had taken care of me all of
my life because Dad left the family when I was 9 months old. So it was going to be my turn to help them
through a difficult time. I would take care of Mom, take care of my brother and
sister when the time came. But that did
not happen. I was the last person to find out Mom had died. The last.
That was not how it was supposed to be.
That week began with Pamela Joy trying to call Mom. She was going through a nasty divorce and
wanted to let Mom know about the next meeting with her ex and the lawyers. She really did not want to call because Mom
could be difficult to talk to about the situation, giving advice Pamela Joy did
not want to hear or least was not ready to hear. Mom had been through a divorce
and knew all too well what Pamela Joy was facing. She tried Mom for a few days with no
answer. Mom had a busy, active
life. She volunteered at the hospital,
got her hair done every week, went out frequently with her girlfriends. So it
was no big deal when she did not answer the phone. But by that Saturday when she still was not
answering, it was time to worry. A few
other family members had been calling, too, wondering if Mom was traveling,
visiting family maybe?
Pamela Joy called our cousin and asked if she would go over
to the house. Waiting to hear back
seemed like hours. The longer the phone
did not ring, the more frightened Pamela Joy became. She prayed it would just be a big
misunderstanding, and Mom would call and laugh about the needless worry. She called Patrick and told him what was going
on. She was afraid to try Mom’s house
again. Patrick said he would call. He
did. A man answered the phone “Farr
residence.” It was not a voice my brother recognized. He knew it was bad. He asked for Kate and said he was her
son. The officer identified himself and
gave Patrick the news. Mom was
gone.
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