Fading Away

Sometime about three months after the cancer took hold of his body, we stopped waiting for Jesus to get better and began waiting for him to die. Mom and God didn’t say that we were doing this but by the defeated expressions that filled their faces Little Mary and I knew this was true.

Mom had a spark in her that could not be described, only witnessed. When my mother walked the flowers tried to bloom a little brighter in order to attract her attention. Their reds became like those of a cardinal and their yellows like the heart of the sun. Birds sang their prettiest song; even the grass stood up straight and brushed the dirt off its blades. My mother brought life out from the world. She made breathing easy. In our home we all, even God, competed for her attention because she had a way of making you feel like you were the most important thing in life.

On my tenth birthday Dad and Mom had planned an elaborate picnic. The two of them had decorated the side of a hill in South Austin Park to look like a candy forest from a Grimms' Fairy Tale. They took a Play School house and smeared frosting and whip cream all over the outside of it, then stuck candies into its wavy, creamy walls. Christmas candy canes were strung on licorice vines that reached from tree to tree. Big chocolate eggs were hidden among the real and plastic plants that made up the forest ground. Mom and Dad even dressed up like Gredel and Hansel. All of my friends were there and they had brought presents wrapped in beautiful paper. There was cake, hamburgers and games for all of us to play.

God, of course, was supposed to take care of the weather and he could not have failed in a more splendid fashion. While the day was warm, as is common in Austin in September, dark clouds filled the sky and soon rain began to fall, followed quickly by our faces.

The frosting on the witch’s candy house ran in multi-color streams as it washed down the hill. The chocolate eggs were ruined and the candy canes dropped sticky, cinnamon red and white tears to the grass below. Standing under the roof of a gazebo, watching the rain spoil the decorations, all of us stood with disappointment dripping from our eyes. God was trying to cheer us up, explain that we could have loads of fun playing under the roof of the Gazebo. He was trying to get us to play pin the proboscis on the JuneBug when Mom did something strange. She let out a small laugh and then walked out into the rain.

Without saying any words, Mom walked out from under the stifling protection of the gazebo’s rooftop and straight into the rain. Then she began dancing, throwing her skirt from side to side and laughing. God followed next, closely by the rest of us. Soon we were all out in the warm Austin rain, dancing and singing and playing the greatest game of rain baseball ever played.

We were wet, dirty and most of all happy. That was Mom; she brought life from a rock, water from the hard desert soil, joy to our life. Of course, she did not bring joy to the parents of the party guests. Most had expressions of shock and horror as they picked up their dirty, smelly, wet children from our home afterwards.

With Jesus sick, everything changed. Mom’s light faded. Her walk slowed. She moved around the house looking confused and little. She began forgetting where the cups went. She had trouble making macaroni and cheese. Once I watched her load up the dishwasher after dinner only to unload it fifteen minutes later. The dishes, still displaying the stains of the eaten meal, looked confused peaking out from behind the glass doors of the cupboard.

Mom’s energy had been drained and replaced with a heavy weight. Little Mary, Jesus and I knew she needed our help. But Jesus’ attempts to comfort her only made the strain in her face grow. She tried to be strong for him, but she just couldn’t. Little Mary thought that Mom needed our hugs and we supplied them in bushels hoping they might help, but none of our efforts could bring Mom to smile. Just like Jesus, she was slowly fading away.