“I’ll never know” #52

The last time I saw my mother was fifteen years ago… everything suddenly turned hazy and I can hardly hear the words of the doctor. “Mrs. Cooper, do you understand? Your mo-” I trail off and a million memories flash through my head, I get taken back to the day she brought home my favorite barbie doll and I remember it like it was yesterday.

The house was perfectly clean as she walked in the door after having been gone for hours. “I brought you something sweetie!” my eyes widened as I saw the beautiful doll in her pink box. She had long strawberry blonde hair and a magnetic pregnant belly that attached, she was a mama just like my own. I remember how I misbehaved that day, which was a pretty regular occurrence actually. She told me I could have the pretty doll after I deemed myself worthy of such a gift by behaving for a good few days straight. That sounded like torture to me. After a few days of obeying and dressing myself up in my best attitude, the doll was placed in my possession. She wore a pink dress with green leaves and red roses on it. I remember mom surprised me with a Ken hubby for mama barbie as well. My small self was more than thrilled to have a pretend family of MY own.  

Mom was always bringing us home little gifts, I think I’m most like her in that way. We both feed off of doing kind things for others, maybe it makes us feel useful, or like we can be a small cause for someone else’s joy. Mom and I were two peas in a pod when I was little, I was just like her in looks and character and I was always told that I was “beautiful just like your mama” I don’t see that in me anymore, but I know it’s there. 

As I grew older, mom and I grew apart. I remember the day I moved out like it was yesterday. By this time it was just my sister, mom and I living in our tiny town. My three other siblings had gotten married and moved away and my dad was out of the picture. I had sorted, tossed, packed and given away many things over the weeks prior to moving and when the day came to go, I packed my eight boxes away in my car and headed out without much sentiment between any of us. I don’t think my mom cried. I think my sister was more distraught than mom was to see me go. My sister later went through the biggest rebellious phase our family had seen and dove off the deep-end of depression. I still blame myself. I was the one that left her after all. Who was she going to go to with her problems now that I was gone? Mom? I think she would have sooner died. 

After that, talking to my mother was a rarity and I soon forgot what it was like to even have a mother. The day I got married was probably the hardest. Everyone was always asking “how’s your mom?” “Is your mom doing well?’ “Where is your mom today?” The questions didn’t stop and I honestly just wished I knew the answers. 

Flash forward another 7 years and here I am, I was sitting in my living room this morning with my 3 girls running around playing dress-up, while my youngest, Claire was clenching the same red headed barbie that was given to me when I was young. I had kept it all these years. Maybe I wanted to remember that day or have something that my mother had once held, to feel connected to her someway still.

It was peaceful and cool outside, but I had a strange feeling today wasn’t going to be as peaceful as it felt… I’ve always had a crazy good intuition, maybe I got that from her too. However, this time I played it off as just being paranoid. We were having a great day and the girls’ dad was headed home soon and we were planning on having a family night and “sleepdown”– a tradition taken from when I was little where my siblings, mom, dad and I would take dozens of pillows and blankets and pile them in the living room and watch movies, eat pizza and sleep there. 

It was exactly 5:24 when my phone rang… “Is this Meg Cooper” a distressed, but calm voice said. “Yes it is…” I replied. “Mrs. cooper, you’re going to want to get down to St. Mary’s hospital as soon as possible…. It’s about your mother.”

My husband and I piled the girls in the car and arrived at the hospital 20 minutes after the call. When we arrived I saw my sister on her knees with her head in her hands sobbing while her husband tried to console her. A Doctor approached me and asked if I was Meg, I replied “yes” and he began to tell me how my mother, the woman I was likened to my whole life, was in an accident and didn’t make it. I felt a sheet of something sweep over me…I couldn’t even react… I felt like a stone wall. Still. Silent. The Doctors didn’t seem to think I grasped what they had just told me. “Mrs. Cooper, do you understand? Your mother is gone…” I drifted off into those memories and as I came back to reality, my eyes stung and felt hot as tears welled up. I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years… did she still have her curly brown hair? Were her eyes as blue as mine and her nose as small as I remembered? Did she smell the same and wear the same soft sweater she used to love? Were her hands as small and gentle as I remember them being when she would wipe away my tears? Did her laugh sound like mine? Did she still love to sing? Was ice cream still her favorite dessert and did she still love pineapple on her pizza? I guess those were all things I thought I’d find out one day, but now…

I’ll

never

know.