Sord in Prosperity - Hope Beyond the Apocalypse

EP. 129 - STROKE

DURING THE YEAR OF marriage and subsequent few years, the experience with Chuck aged my mother by a decade. She held herself differently and sang very rarely. She didn't lose her omnipresent sense of humor entirely, but it was subdued and muted like an old, torn blanket thrown over a once colorful couch.

I was too busy with my own life to pay much attention to what was going on in hers. After her short stint as a convenience store clerk and manager, she quickly sold the business at a loss to raise cash. Then she went back to what was comfortable for her as a teller at another bank.

Two years later, again while I was in the kitchen eating breakfast, she entered from her bedroom looking disheveled and mumbling something about what a tremendous headache she had. I was accustomed to her complaining occasionally about headaches, but they usually subsided after a dose of aspirin. I always chalked these up to her blue eyes unable to handle the bright sunshine of Phoenix summers. She grabbed an aspirin from the cabinet and glass of orange juice, then proceeded back to her bedroom.

About forty minutes later, after readying myself to get to classes, I was headed out the door when the phone rang.

"Hello," the man's voice said. "Can I speak with your mother?"

"Sure," I replied. "She's in her bedroom. Can I tell her who's calling?"

"Yes, it's Eddie from the savings and loan. She was supposed to come in this morning, and we haven't seen her yet. I don't remember her asking for the day off, so I just want to be sure nothing happened along the way."

"Okay. Let me get her. There's an extension in her room and she can pick up there."

I set the phone down and ran down the hallway to knock on her door. No answer. A louder knock. Still no answer. Placing my ear against her door, I listened for the sound of the shower. Normally, she'd sing in the shower, so I was pretty sure she wasn't there.

"Mom?"

No response."

"Mom?" I repeated louder.

Given her lack of response, I ran around checking the house. Then I took to the front yard, searched around, and again to the backyard. No sign.

"Odd," I wondered. "Her car is in the carport. Maybe she's at the neighbor's next door. I have to get going or will be late for class."

My drive from Northwest Phoenix to Tempe was forty-five minutes on a good day, and with parking and running to class, I needed to allocate an hour minimum. Showing up late meant arriving to a locked classroom door, and I was nearing that hour mark. I figured I'd try her bedroom once more before leaving.

"Mom!" I yelled as loudly as possible.

A weak, muffled reply. "What?"

I was less relieved than angry that she didn't reply to my first call.

"Oh, you're awake. Eddie's on the phone and says you were supposed to come in to work today. Are you getting ready?"

While I waited for a response, I tried her door knob.

It was locked.

"Mom?"

"What?"

"Did you hear me? Eddie's on the phone . . ."

"I'm sick," she interrupted. "Not going in. Bad headache."

"Okay. Should I tell him that?"

No response.

I ran to the phone.

"Sir?"

"Yes," he replied, obviously perturbed he waited so long.