Memory Vista

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I'm looking out across Georgian Bay. The sun plays hide and seek behind the clouds, the trees around me growing on an angle from years of high winds. I remember how my mom wanted to be laid to rest here. She pictured eternity and thought of this place as refuge and solace. As the waves beat the shoreline, I recall... [[Celebrating Her Life]] [[The Blue Room]] [[Ashes to Ashes]] [[Waking Up]]

I walk up the stairs to the venue holding my mom's celebration of life. As I aproach the 2nd floor, I can see two strangers leaning against the door frame. They look at me, and one speaks. "Hey, Joey, right?" [[You reach out your hand to shake their hand.]] [[You smile and nod, walking through the doorway.]] [[You shake your head no and keep walking.]]

"Hi, yes, I'm Joey." The man frowns and nods gravely. "Your mom was a great boss. It was a privilege to work for her." He shakes my hand firmly, his eyes darting back and forth as if unable to choose one of mine to land on. "Oh, I'm Derek." [[Politely make small talk.]] [[Recognize his name and confront him.]]

People around you turn and stare as they recognize who you are. [[You walk to the bar, squeezing through mounds of people.]]

"I've heard of you. Nice to meet you, Derek." "Likewise, Joey." [[Excuse yourself.]]

"My mom mentioned you... you didn't like to show up on time, did you?" Derek laughs. "Ha! Or at all! Yep. I ran by my own schedule." [[Excuse yourself.]] [[Confront further.]]

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go grab a drink." Derek grins and raises his glass. "To your mom." [[You walk to the bar, squeezing through mounds of people.]]

"Right, which in turn made my mom's job more difficult when she had to cover for your ass because you didn't show at board meetings." I feel my jaw clenching. Derek pulls his hand away. "Well, if anyone was able to handle it, it was your mom." [[Continue confronting.|Continue on.]] [[Excuse yourself.]]

"Handle what, doing your job? You knew she was sick, too." Derek shrugs. "Joey, it wasn't anything personal. It's just how I operate, and she didn't seem to mind." [[Excuse yourself.|Excuse yourself.]]

“Two Rolling Rocks, please,” I ask the bartender, who tells me he’ll be with me in just a moment after he helps a group of gentlemen first. One of the tallest of them turns and sees me. I wonder if they are from my mom’s work. He looks at the bartender. “You help her out first, on me." He tosses a bill on the counter. "She needs a drink more than we do right now.” He looks at me sympathetically and turns back to his colleagues. [[Accept the gesture.]] [[Decline the gesture.]]

I stand at the bottom of a flight of stairs after my shift ends. They look particularly daunting today. I trudge up the stairs one at a time. Mitska, the deli supervisor, laughs at me on her way down. "Too young to complain about staircase!" she yells from the bottom of the stairs. [[Laugh and reply.]] [[Continue up stairs.]]

I look out of the car window from the backseat, feeling my eyes flicker back and forth as I catch brief images of the landscape we zoom past. My aunt and uncle sit in the front seats. Behind us, a car carrying other extended family members follows. We reach the crematorium and everyone exits the car. Smoke swirls out of the chimney of the old stone building. My skin crawls. My stomach churns forced breakfast. A hand is placed onto my shoulder and I jump. My uncle Pierre laughs. "Lost you for a second there. You ready to go in?" [[Enter the crematorium.]]

"We don't all have your spirit, Mitska!" Mitska replies, "Ah! Because you are not drinking enough spirits, Josie!" [[Continue up stairs.]]

Once in the employee office, I sit down and dial my dad. He told me to call him after work to see if he could come give me a lift home. The phone rings three times. “Hello?” [[Greet him.]] [[Ask to be picked up.]]

“Fuck, isn’t there anything we can give her?!” My older sister, Lillian, stares at the scene inside my mother’s room. She stands with me near the doorway. My dad sits with my Mom, who is tossing and moaning in bed. He looks up at us. [[Ask why she is awake.]] [[Leave the room.]]

"Hey Dad, how are you?" I try to be friendly. "Things have been better." He audibly sighs. "Well, we'll get through it together, Dad." "I know. Thanks, kiddo." [[Ask to be picked up.]]

“I’m all done.” My coworkers come into the office. They spot me and start to poke and prod me while I try to listen to my dad. “I can’t pick you up today.” His voice falters a bit. [[Get annoyed.]] [[Ask why.]]

"What? You told me you'd pick me up tonight. It's an hour bus ride!" "I'm sorry." [[Ask why.]]

“I’m sorry, ok? I know it’s late. I just can’t leave your mom right now,” he says. [[Ask how Mom's appointment went.]]

“How did that appointment go today?” I ask in as positive a voice I can manage. “Joey, just come home.” I hear a click and then the dial tone again. The girls in the room are watching me now. “Alright, I’ll bus home. Bye, Dad.” I finish my conversation with no one on the other line and place the phone down. I grab my bag. As I’m doing up my coat, Erica speaks with her hands up in the air. “Joey?” [[Apologize and leave.]]

“Sorry, guys.” I check out and run down the stairs. I hear Erica before the doors shut behind me. “Geez, what is wrong with her?” [[Ignore them and exit the building.]] [[Turn around and explain.]]

After a long bus ride, I arrive at home. My dad is sitting on my bed when I get home. I close the door behind me. “Where’s Mom?” “She’s just gone to bed.” “So, what did they say?” “Everything’s progressed a lot further than they expected,” he shakes his head as he speaks. “They’re taking her off treatment completely and moving her into palliative care. She doesn’t want to go to a hospice, so she’ll stay here at home.” [[Reply.]] [[Leave room.]]

"Guys... My mom is really sick." Erica furrows her brow. "What kind of sick?" "Like... cancer sick." Tanya's mouth drops and Erica stammers. "Oh, Joey. I'm sorry. You've just been acting off recently - we had no idea..." "It's ok. I don't even know what to say to people. I'm the one that is sorry." Erica runs down the stairs and hugs me. "We're here if you need anything." [[Leave the building.|Ignore them and exit the building.]]

I stay silent for a few moments. “Okay.” My father stands and goes to walk out of the room. [[Stop to hug him.]] [[Let him go.]]

I walk quietly out of my room and into my parent’s bedroom close by. I expect darkness but the alarm clock on my dad’s side of the bed illuminates the room in fluorescent blue light. It reminds me of the Christmas lights that used to decorate the pines outside in winter. I can see the shape of my mother’s body under the duvet. She looks smaller than I remembered. I can’t tell if she’s sleeping. I walk carefully towards the bed, stepping on the floorboards that I know won’t creak. I lower myself onto the bed gently and sit for a moment, her form becoming clearer as my eyes adjust. Words I want to say get backed up in my throat. I try to speak but nothing comes out. I want to thank her, I want to say how horrible this all is, I want to apologize that it's her and not me. [[Force yourself to speak.]] [[Stay silent.]]

I stop him and put my arms around his shoulders. He hugs back, so hard it almost hurts me. “It’s okay,” I whisper. He squeezes tighter. “No, it’s not. It’s too soon.” His voice breaks. “It’s too soon.” We stand there holding one another, and I feel my father break down in my arms, his massive body shaking with sobs. I’ve never heard him cry before. He kisses my cheek, his beard scratching my skin. He lets go and leaves without another word. [[Leave room to see Mom.|Leave room.]]

I stand there for a moment. I wonder where Mom is. [[Leave room to find mom.|Leave room.]]

"Mom?" I manage to say something. She replies, her voice weak. "Hey, sweetheart." "Mom, I'm sorry this is happening. It's not fair." Tears cloud my vision. "Oh, dearest... it's alright." She comforts me. Each word sounds hard for her to speak. [[Finish the conversation and tell her you love her.]]

You sit with her for a few moments. [[Tell her you love her.|Finish the conversation and tell her you love her.]]

I lean down slowly and kiss her forehead and whisper, “I love you, Mom.” She looks at me with two liquid eyes which shine at me in the darkness. The dim light gives everything the feeling of a lived memory, as if I were dreaming. It would seem to be a nightmare, but it isn't. There is too much warmth in my heart, too much pain in our breaths. A sweet melancholy which engulfs us that is both spiritual yet tangible. This is real. My mother, myself, the meaning felt in all the pauses, the cancer fighting to seperate us forever, the tears rolling down sunburnt summer skin. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” She squeezes my arm. She closes her eyes and I listen as her breathing slows and she falls back asleep. I sit in the blue room while she rests with her hand wrapped around my wrist. [[Leave the room and go to sleep.]]

The next morning, I blink as white morning light pours through my skylight. I look over to see the time – it’s 6:45 am. I look across the room to notice the door was left open; I usually sleep with it closed. I lie half-awake for a few minutes. I hear someone get out of bed from my parent’s room. My mom walks by my room and stops in the doorway. [[Pretend you are asleep.]] [[Wave to her.]]

I pretend I’m asleep. I don’t know why, but I do. I feel like I can’t move, like she’s a ghost. She stands there, swaying with sleepiness, and I try to imagine what she’s thinking. She watches me for a few moments, and she raises her hand to her face to wipe away a tear that rolls down her left cheek. She turns and walks back to her room and back into bed. [[Fall back asleep.]]

I wave gently to her. She smiles and waves back. A tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it, turns and walks back to her room. [[Back to Georgian Bay.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

In my dreams, I don’t pretend I’m asleep. In my dreams, I wave to her. In my dreams, she waves back before she leaves. In my dreams, I say goodbye. [[Back to Georgian Bay.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

I follow my father, my mother's two sisters, her brother and her mother down the steps into the basement of the crematorium. Once inside, we are led to a large brown box in front of a square opening in the wall that matches the size of it. As we get closer, I realize my mother is inside the cardboard box. [[Continue towards it.]]

The family approaches the brown box. My grandmother puts her hands on it, tracing the outside as if it is skin. Everyone stands in silence until my Auntie Jay speaks. "Does anyone want to say anything?" No one does, until my grandmother clears her throat to talk, in a shaky but even voice. "We loved you, Wendy. We love you. We send you off to another place, wherever it may be. We will all be where you are now, someday." Everyone steps back from the box and my grandma leans in, a single tear rolling down from her eye. "I'll be with you soonest," she utters, barely audible. [[Say something.]] [[Remain silent.]]

"I may be last here to go wherever you are, Mom, but I'll be there someday too." [[Turn to see the crematorium worker.|Remain silent.]]

A crematorium worker walks in. "Have we said our goodbyes?" Everyone nods. "Very well then. Would any of you like to pull the lever?" No one says a word, and my Dad steps forward. "I will." The crematorium worker flicks a switch and some loud fans begin whirring away. He points to the lever for my dad, then to a light on the wall. He shouts above the noise. "When this light turns red, the flames are going. You can see them through this window here, which will close within 30 seconds." My Dad looks at me. [[Nod at him.]]

My Dad walks toward the lever and pulls it. A strange, second sound begins and the light glares red in the darkness. I stare at the red light, and notice my family members slowly making their way out of the building towards the courtyard. [[Follow them.]] [[Go up to the window.]]

Outside, the birds are singing and the sky is a bright blue. Flowers grow around me. How such beauty can exist when my heart is in turmoil amazes me. So much suffering in the world, but so much beauty. The irony of it all, the balancing act. The bad and the good. I feel it all. ~ The trees outside the car window blur as my sister Lillian speeds down the dirt path towards Georgian Bay. The dirt road through the forest kicks up pebbles, steadily ricocheting off of the bottom of the car. Resting on my legs, I hold a large silver urn. It’s incredibly heavy, but I don’t want to place it anywhere but in my lap. My dad sits in the passenger seat next to my sister. Nobody looks at one another. Nobody speaks. [[Later on, on Georgian Bay...|Ashes]]

I walk up to the window and see the flames flickering. The fire dances over my eyes in my reflection. In my mind, I fight away images of skin that melts, bones that crumble and eyes that vanish. Skin covering bones that framed eyes I knew and loved. I want to look away but I can't. Fire has usually been comfort, a warm winter night, but here they are a great equalizer. They consume all that I cherish, pushing my mother further into the past, making the distance between us inconquerable. Cruel permanence. [[Walk to the courtyard.|Follow them.]]

My family stands together on the edge of the south side of the island on top of a small cliff overlooking the water. The wind is so strong here the trees that grow here all lean. I lift the metal urn of my mom’s ashes and open it. I look back at my dad and Lillian. Lillian looks away from me out across the water with dried tears on her face. My dad nods. I open the lid and flip the urn upside down. The grey ashes swirl and dance in the wind as they cascade downwards towards the water. I watch it fall. They settle on the surface below, the waves pounding against the rocks. I grab the last handful of ashes and kiss my closed hand. Opening my palm, the wind blows most of it away. I feel the last of the grainy ash slip between my fingers. [[Back to the rocks.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

"Dad, why is she awake again? She's been asleep for days..." “The morphine is wearing off, and the next dose is slow to kick in." My mom gasps for air, looking frantically around but her eyes never settle. "She is becoming more lucid." My dad tries to calm her, but she is unaffected. Her small, frail chest rises and falls rapidly. I lean against the wall to try and stop tremors, but it does nothing. It comes from somewhere deep inside me. My chest, my shoulders, my arms, my legs, my hands. They shake uncontrollably. My older sister, Lillian, is not shaking. Her face is red as she speaks, her tone sharp. “She shouldn’t fucking be awake right now! We need to do something!” My mom moans louder, forming a word that doesn’t sound like ‘help’ but clearly is. I sink to the floor with a thump and put my head between my knees. I debate the irony of calling an ambulance for a terminally ill person. [[Stay.]] [[Go.|Leave the room.]]

I get up and leave the room, walk down the hallway and collapse on the living room couch. I grab a pillow and bury my face into it. It muffles the sound of my crying. It feels as if someone is tightening my chest cavity with a wrench, and as soon as I think it can’t feel any tighter, it does. I think of how my mom looks now compared to only three weeks ago. We were laughing about something in the garden. It seems so long ago now. [[~|Later on.]]

My dad speaks. I’ve called a nurse. She has to come from Mississauga. It’s a civic holiday today and there’s no one in Etobicoke who’s available.” My dad looks back to my mom and rests his hand on her chest. My sister raises her voice. “How can NOBODY help us?!” [[Leave the room.]]

I shut off the hot water from the shower. It’s late, about 3am. The nurse is in the room with my mom, who is calm again. They connected her to a morphine drip. The frigid air hits me as I step out of the shower. I grab a towel and wrap it around me. I feel goosebumps rise along my arms and down my spine. I catch my reflection for a moment in the mirror. I see myself standing in the dimly lit bathroom bathed in a faint red from multicoloured LEDS my dad installed a few months back. The light looks ominous, the fog from the shower swirling above where I stand. "Mom is dying", I think. These words echo in my mind, ringing out like bells whose reverberation is sustained long after they are stricken. I meet my own gaze and the thought sinks and settles in my mind like ashes falling gently after a fire. I feel calm for a moment. She isn’t going to be here much longer. I remain still, staring at myself, trying to adjust to this new way of looking at things that will soon become a reality for my family. I brush my teeth, grab my clothes, and exit the bathroom. I walk by my mom’s room and wonder if I should kiss her goodnight. I hesitate for a moment as I walk by and glance in, an act in and of itself that has become difficult. [[Kiss her goodnight.]] [[Go to bed.]]

I walk in, the air in the room smelling like sickness and tears. I walk over to my mom and sit on the edge of the bed. I can hardly recognize her. The torment the disease has caused her body and soul is palpable. I can hardly believe she was walking around the house less than a week ago. I lean down and kiss one cheek, and then the other. "I love you, Mom. Rest." Her eyes flutter open for a moment. She looks at me, but her eyes aren't focused. It looks like she is looking somewhere far away. I know her vision has started to go, but she looks like she is searching in my eyes for something. "Mom?" I ask. She doesn't answer. Her eyes keep searching for a moment, and then she closes them. [[Leave the room and go to bed.|The next morning.]]

I hover at the door and turn away, deciding I shouldn’t disturb her. I enter my room and close the door behind me. She’ll still be here tomorrow. I’ll read her that book she was working on. I still have time for goodbyes. I climb into bed and fall asleep almost instantly. [[~|The next morning.]]

I wake up the next morning to my dad holding my hand on the edge of my bed. I hear unfamiliar voices in the living room. I blink in the bright light of the afternoon. I lift my head and look over at my clock, which reads noon. I slept in. My dad has tears in his eyes, but a soft smile. I struggle to swallow. “Really?” I ask. My dad nods. I let my head fall back onto my pillow and look up at the ceiling. Dust particles circle in the light streaming down from my skylight. I can see clouds soaring by. Each heartbeat pounds against my ribcage. It feels like there isn’t enough room in my chest. “What happened?” My voice cracks. “She must have gone sometime early this morning. The doctors said the tumours were practically growing before their eyes. There wasn’t anything we could do.” [[Ask why you weren't woken up when it happened.]] [[Hug him.]]

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I feel anger rouse in me, ripping my hand away. “You’re going to lose a bit of sleep over the next few weeks. I just wanted one more night’s rest for you.” The anger dissipates. My dad looks older than normal, wrinkles lining his eyes, which look completely exhausted, completely spent. His massive shoulders hunch forward, his spine curled. He just lost his wife and best friend and I’m angry I didn’t get told a few hours earlier about it. [[Hug him.]]

I sit up and hug my father. He hugs me back, squeezing too tightly like he always does. “Come see how peaceful she looks,” he whispers. [[Go with him to see her one last time.]] [[Say you're sorry, but you can't.]]

We stand up together, walk out into the hallway and he leads me into her room. In the room, my mom's lies still, so still you can tell she isn't sleeping. Her skin looks looser, her body relaxed. It looks like all of the pain and anguish coursing through her has ceased, completely. I walk over to her, hovering above her head. A tear rolls down my cheek and lands on hers. I kiss her forehead. Warm lips meet cold skin. It feels like stone. She feels no pain now. She feels nothing. Her pain has ended, and mine has only just begun. [[Back to Georgian Bay.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

"I'm sorry, Dad. I don't want to remember her like that." "Joey, it's not as bad as you think. She looks like she's sleeping." "But she isn't. She's gone. I can't, I'm sorry." "And that horrible cancer is gone with her. I understand. I'll come see you in a bit." He leaves the room. Through my skylight, I can see a single seagull floating on the air currents. It holds its wings out, using almost no energy, gliding effortlessly. I watch it as it is slowly carried up into the clouds until it is out of sight. [[Back to Georgian Bay.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

"Thanks," I mumble. [[Find a way outside.]]

Before the bartender can take the money, I signal him to come over. I give him the change and ask him not to accept the money already on the counter. My mom's work didn't treat her right, despite working at the top of the industry for decades, despite her illness. I don't want their charity now. [[Find a way outside.]]

I take one opened beer in each hand and head towards the patio door, doing my best to look as though I am determined in getting where I am going, that nothing can or should stand in my way. Unfortunately, about seventy people currently do. I am routinely stopped for long hugs from people I’ve never met, ‘how are you doing?’s in emphatic, empty tones. I even get a couple of ‘poor thing’s. I feel my patience waning as cliché phrases are hurled at me from every direction. An older woman I don't know approaches me and grabs my arm tightly. "She's in a better place, sweetheart." The lady beside her chimes in. "She's with God now. Time will heal you." She wears bright blue eyeshadow and deep red lipstick, which is smeared on her wineglass. My mom wasn't religious in the slightest, but I know they mean well. [[Smile uncomfortably, and excuse yourself.]]

"These things happen for a reason, you know. You'll see." I feel my skin crawl for a moment. I recall horrible imagery of emotional and physical suffering. I know what I see now - I see tears running down cheeks as my grandmother holds my mother's hands, realizing she is losing her daughter. I see my mother on her deathbed yet comforting the healthy people around her. I see 60 years of my life without her. I see my girlfriend never meeting my mother. I see my children never meeting their grandmother. [[Quietly leave.]] [[Confront.]]

I open the patio door and stumble into darkness. Immediate relief follows the cold air and silence. [[Back to Georgian Bay.|Looking out across Georgian Bay]]

"Cancer doesn't have meaning, or a reason, actually," I calmly reply. The woman looks taken aback. "It grew in my mother, turned her own body against her, and self destructed, killing itself and my mother in the process - for what? My grandchildren won't think this happened for a reason. Her mother won't find meaning in this. She's waking up every day remembering her child is gone. Are you a mother?" The woman responds. "Well, yes..." "How about your child dies. Would you like that journey, even if your god intended it?" The womans shakes her head no. "Right, you don't want that. They say this makes you stronger but it doesn't. It eats away at you, your resolve. It takes meaning OUT of life." The woman looks shaken and I am overwhelmed with guilt. I regret saying it all, immediately. She didn't mean any harm. "I'm sorry," I say. [[Quietly leave.]]