Family Circles

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Synopsis:

A knock on the door brings memories full circle.
Can you choose to get off the merry go round?

Just a short note about... stuff.

Some names may have been changed to protect...

Story:

Copyright KLS 2006.

Family Circles

By Kristina.L.S.

1.

It was a gentle Sunday morning and all the chores were done. Puppies brushed, clothes washed, house vacuumed, coffee made. Time to noodle on the old laptop.
But then a ding-dong echoed through, not a common thing on Sunday morning or most other times either. The tall solid guy standing there with his back to the door surprised me, until he turned around. That same bushy moustache and almost crew cut. Those same gentle, pale blue eyes. Seeming sadder than normal, but then he wouldn't be here after 14 years if there wasn't a reason.

His gaze wandered up and down, pausing briefly, before resting on my face. It occurred to me that my eyes were darker, wonder why that was, they used to be identical. We did the hi how are you stuff, all without names, as I invited him in and did the quick tour and then coffee... tea? Sat and looked and measured.

His gaze paused again, the old grandpa shirt hung in places it never could 14 years ago, and no doubt there were other differences as well.

"So I assume there's a reason you're here. I mean to track me down wouldn't have been hard but..." I shrugged as I stopped and waited for my brother to say whatever he had to say.

"It's dad... he... He is not well has been in hospital most of this year and well... it doesn't look like... It doesn't look good and I figured you would want to at least see him."

My thoughts roamed back over the years to good and then not quite so good memories. There was never any overt distaste or violence, just a quiet refusal to acknowledge. A 'universal', it's not really true so just pretend it isn't there. A not even hidden mothers disappointment that her boy could be, one of those.

And so at 22 I had left. I no longer had a family, letters to mum and dad, brothers and sister in explanation of feelings and beliefs had brought no response, so...

Johnny talked me through the recent history, of illness and hospital. Of missed diagnosis and then transfer to larger and finally an answer and treatment. But he was weakened and could not take the full dosage and so...

Conversation switched to others Joseph and Ginny, both now married with kids, as was John. I was the only hold out it seemed. Mum was fine. Then neutral topics, music, a shared love, once a binding thing. Now? Another difference? Esoteric musicians and discs, names were tossed around as a few titles found there way to the player as a distraction.

He left an hour later leaving me with a letter giving ward and such if I wanted to visit. I said I would as he left with that same sad eyed smile, no contact or name, same old same old.

He rang the next night. I gave him home and mobile and e-mail, now thought that maybe that wasn't a good idea. I had a life of sorts. Would it now devolve to what it had been 14 years ago? Was I enough myself to say no at a given point?

I was going out Friday morning I said. Alone I said. But of course...

The next night another call, he would come with me if that was all right, had taken the day off. So how could I say no. He would pick me up and drive out.

The 45-minute drive was kept conversation free by the CD playing. Just a, "hello, ready?"
No name, no comment on clothing. I gazed out the window and tried to imagine...

John pointed with his chin across the room to a corner bed. An old man, mouth and eyes partly open, head tilted to one side unmoving, wispy white hair. The occasional attempt at swallowing or opening his eyes the only evidence of life.

Close up unshaven raspy bristles against the back of my hand as I brushed the cheek. Uncovered an arm and finally recognition. Yes those were dad's hands. The pale watery blue eyes were not as they were. Lacking spark or knowledge. He mumbled the odd disjointed phrase as I tried to connect.

The Doctor had come and outlined the stages of treatment. Almost apologetic at previous failure. Had he been able to take... but now... unstoppable, was progressing still... terminal. Consider palliative care... soon. Two, six, a year, who knows.

Finally, recognition, the eyes lit slightly, a mumbled name, one that hadn't been used for years, " knew he'd come back", half joking mixed with nonsense, yes this was dad. Same old same old. Why didn't I feel sadder? Nothing changes; it just goes around in a circle. He drifted in and out, was not in pain they said. A few hours later we left, with decisions endorsed and options looked at.

The CD played again as I gazed out the window. He dropped me home with a, " well keep in touch, we'll talk later."

"Yes I will. I'll go out again. Talk to you later."

I went inside not looking back as he drove away. The puppies bounced and greeted me as puppies do. Made coffee and sat on the back step, with memories and possible futures wandering in and out.

Finally the tears started, but who were they for?

Any thoughts or comments I can be contacted - [email protected] Anything short of abuse welcome.

Notes:

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Comments

Sleepless nights...like most other things in life

Andrea Lena's picture

...can be meaningful. That your story brought me to tears...well, there's meaningful and then there's meaningful. Thank you for holding fast and writing this even as you struggled with it; as it pulled and pushed at you, wanting to be read. This touched my heart. Thank you.

She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Don't Miss This

I missed this when it was first posted.

You are a master story-teller. After reading this I wish you weren't so good because your pain was evident in every word.

Family is family.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Does the Circle close?

kristina l s's picture

Or is it always open? I don't know. The 'old man' passed away on the 21st Feb..peacefully. Despite pressure I did not attend the funeral. What peace was to be made had been. So... life goes on. You make the best of... that's probably a song.
Kristina
ps I was unsure whether to do this or not. I still am.

You Can Always Make Me Cry

joannebarbarella's picture

It has the feel of real life whether fictional or not. The picture of the (your?) father reminds me so much of my own when he was dying of prostate cancer and I wanted to take him in my arms and hug him to me and I could not,because the pattern of our relationship was cast in stone. All I could do was hold his hand and wail inside myself "I love you"
Hugs,
Joanne

This was worth posting

Kristina,

you were right to post this.

However close to real life is is or isn't, this story needed telling.

Sorry for your loss. Glad some resolution -- imperfect as it may be -- was achieved.

As to the funeral, why pressure you to attend his funeral? Why didn't the same people press for a reconcillation or at least an agreement to disagree years ago when it would have meant so much more? He is gone, it is the living that need to be whole.

I don't mind meeting people half-way. I hope your family can come back together. I know I want to be liked or at least treated repectfully and I want to be part of a larger social group. But when you do all the giving ...

I have seen families, friends broken up over far more trivial things. It was not you Kristina. Something else could or would have caused the rift. It's just those who are different are easy targets rather than the real cause which is often disapointment in their own lives.

Look at the mom's and dads who scream at their kids in gradeschool ball games. Why? I was so lucky to get the parents I got. Even most of my adult relative are or were kind, decent people in word and deed.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

No comments needed. None at all

Anything anyone says can only be superfluous. this is just to let you know that we acknowledge it Kristina.

But for what its worth ....

It has an exquisite purity of word and line. A simplicity that is deeply moving.

And .... well no need for an 'and'

Fleurie

Fleurie

What to say

If I was ever in this situation I wouldn't know whether to show up and say, "Where the hell were you, Dad, and the rest of the family the last fourteen years. I'm glad you're dieing, bastard!" or to cry for all the lost time together. Fourteen years and even now they can't speak of the truth. Are they reaching out for her sake or only for dad's?

The "we'll keep in touch. Talk to you later." Is that her brother finally reaching out or the same-old-same-old? No wonder she cries at the end. Will later be another fourteen years? What of the nieces and nefews she's never met because her family couldn't cope. And what of the mother, who sounds the worst of the bunch? My mother was disapointed sis and I hadn't married or had kids as she lay dying, but she never wavered in her love for us.

They are not bad people, but they are fools. If I had had a sibling who had gone this route,I hope I would have had the courage to say, "Tell me about it. What is is like?" and build on that.

You did this piece wonderfully, far better than I could ever dream. I'm glad your character is not vindictive, but when will someone reach out in this family and ask her why? "Why" is a good place to start the healing. Powerful stuff.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

you can pick your friends not your family

My dear Kristina wow for many people I know does this hit home many were much better off without the baggage of there none-such family's
and grew with the help of true friends others they could not, and found life sad & bitter, and and took one of the messy ways out . your thoughtful tail has made me think of my life and I hope I have made the right choices . does what we ware or how the clothes hang apon us.or if we now look like a girl or a boy really make us that different? should it not be what is in side that counts ? for the very lucky few yes as for most of the people I know that sad truth is NO I pray you are a lucky one you have done a nice job with the story please keep writing
Christi

Beautiful

Beautiful!

Thank you.

the bright side...

it's a very sad tale. makes me remember my own father's dying. of course, i never had the strength of character to inform my parents for i knew it would be to no avail.

still, your brother DID look you up. he did seek you out and take you to visit your father. if he hadn't cared at all, he'd never have done it. perhaps your own walls are keeping you from the road back to a healthy relationship.

i'm sorry. i'm taking your story as autobiographical. perhaps it's just a "story"? all we can ever do is "try".

thanks for sharing.

always,
darla...

Crying and Loss

When my mother died, someone told me the reason we cry is because we have regrets. We cry for the "would have, should have, could haves". The tears at the end are both for the realization that nothing would ever change, and the regrets she has as a result.

At least, that's my take. Well done.

Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur

Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur