Playful Peach #12
My mother died when I was 22. She had ovarian cancer that rapidly became stomach cancer and the treatment for that is a pine box (so I overheard a snarky doctor say). I knew that it was coming as soon as the doctor said it and it gave me this dull pain right under my ribs almost as if I had been punched a long time ago and the bruise stayed deep inside me. While my friends were moving into big cities, sleeping with random men and “finding themselves” I was planning a funeral and trying to stop my Uncle Irving from grabbing my ass. I felt suffocated by the visitors and by the constant flux of scallop potatoes and tuna casseroles that seemed to multiply in the kitchen. The worst part of all of it was I think I was more upset about my loss of freedom than by my mother’s death. Well, maybe not more upset but at least equally so. I needed to get out and fortunately for me my chance came sooner than I thought.
My mother had been planning to go on a cruise of the Caribbean islands as soon as she discovered she was dying. She told me that dying meant you got to do things you always meant to but never quite got around to it. She died two weeks before her ship was set to take off. At first I felt kind of bad for even thinking I would go on the cruise in my dead mother’s place but I was set at ease by my sister Cindy’s urgings, “Mom would have wanted you there anyway Sadie, you were always her favorite.” She meant it to cheer me up but even mentioning how my mother thought of me realize that I had to think of it in the past tense. She would never ‘think’ of me again.
The moment I walked on the cruise I realized what a bad idea it was. For starters, I was never told that it was a cruise for people 60 and over, (I thought maybe I could meet a man on this cruise, not see one die.) Apparently this was a cruise for single elderly people to mingle and fall in love in their ‘twilight years.’ I was miserable as soon as I walked on the ship and just planned to sleep for the next 3 weeks. One positive (at least to me) side effect of being depressed is that you can sleep for 12 hours like you did when you were a kid. But, when I walked into my room I realized that wasn’t going to happen. I pulled myself through the tiny door to my room dragging my overstuffed suitcases behind me only to discover that I had a 72-year-old roommate
“Hi, I’m Agnes, I hope you don’t mind that I smoked in here,” she said in a gruff voice that indicated to me that she had been smoking for quite awhile and that my minding could really do nothing about it.
The room (which was tiny) was filled with smoke; I could barely see her face. She was decked out like all the old ladies were for the cruise complete with a lei and sandals that showed her yellowed toenails. I coughed a hello and tried to see where my bed was. I am in hell I thought to myself, I was selfish and now God is punishing me by making me die at 22 by second hand smoke. I wanted to cry, which was easy since the smoke in the room was already making my eyes tear up. Agnes finished her cigarette and then began to notice that something was wrong.
“Are you okay darling?” she asked looking more like a nice grandmother than the evil smoke-welding devil she was when I walked in. I shrugged and felt the tears begin to flow as the words poured from my mouth in an unstoppable stream of thoughts. I told her about losing my mother, losing my 20’s and my life and she listened with the intent eyes of someone that you had known for a long time, not only 2 minutes in a smoke filled room on the geriatric cruise 2k6 extravaganza. Her kind eyes made me feel a little better, but more than that it was just having someone listen to me talk. Once I was finished I felt like all my emotion had been poured out like an empty glass.
“You know what you need,” she said fighting back a cough, “you need to get out and have a good time.”
Right old lady, you can show me a good time when you are practically dying, I thought to myself but what I said was, “Well…should we go out then?”
“Yes,” she said more excited with every word, “but first, lets take a few swigs.”
She then pulled out a flask that looked like it was from the 1920’s filled with something that tasted like it was even older but made me feel a little better. After I was sufficiently tipsy Agned decided to show me what her world was like. We went upstairs and played shuffleboard until dark and she talked about all the places she had seen and lovers she had. She told me about a young girl with a lot of dreams from Indiana that ended up leaving her husband and joining the Peace Corps to build wells in Africa. I was so amazed by her bravery and was convinced with every conversation that I should try to live my life just like her. At 22 I felt like I hadn’t really done anything yet but Agnes assured me that living through your mother dying meant that you were much older than you thought. After shuffleboard we got more drinks and flirted with some old men (alright, I mainly watched her flirt they were like my grampy’s age…..eww), and then danced a little bit. It was about 4 am by the time we stumbled back to our room, our feet heavy and happy from dancing all night. I smiled to myself glad that I had finally found a companion even if she was 72 years old.
By the time I got into bed the sun was just starting to peak over the ocean. Finally things were starting to get better I thought to myself. I was having fun and even laughing again something I thought wouldn’t happen for a long time. Even though I was 22 and supposed to be living it up it had been a long time since I had watched the sunrise. I leaned over to tell Agnes to look outside when I noticed she was turned into the wall. I thought she was just asleep so I sweetly whispered good night to her. When she didn’t respond I felt like something was wrong so I walked over to her bed only to see her eyes rolled back into her head. She must be sleeping I thought to myself, this can’t be happening to me again, not another death so soon. I tried helplessly to do CPR on a smoker of 60 plus years and realized that it was helpless. I had obviously thought life was looking up for me too soon.
My mother had been planning to go on a cruise of the Caribbean islands as soon as she discovered she was dying. She told me that dying meant you got to do things you always meant to but never quite got around to it. She died two weeks before her ship was set to take off. At first I felt kind of bad for even thinking I would go on the cruise in my dead mother’s place but I was set at ease by my sister Cindy’s urgings, “Mom would have wanted you there anyway Sadie, you were always her favorite.” She meant it to cheer me up but even mentioning how my mother thought of me realize that I had to think of it in the past tense. She would never ‘think’ of me again.
The moment I walked on the cruise I realized what a bad idea it was. For starters, I was never told that it was a cruise for people 60 and over, (I thought maybe I could meet a man on this cruise, not see one die.) Apparently this was a cruise for single elderly people to mingle and fall in love in their ‘twilight years.’ I was miserable as soon as I walked on the ship and just planned to sleep for the next 3 weeks. One positive (at least to me) side effect of being depressed is that you can sleep for 12 hours like you did when you were a kid. But, when I walked into my room I realized that wasn’t going to happen. I pulled myself through the tiny door to my room dragging my overstuffed suitcases behind me only to discover that I had a 72-year-old roommate
“Hi, I’m Agnes, I hope you don’t mind that I smoked in here,” she said in a gruff voice that indicated to me that she had been smoking for quite awhile and that my minding could really do nothing about it.
The room (which was tiny) was filled with smoke; I could barely see her face. She was decked out like all the old ladies were for the cruise complete with a lei and sandals that showed her yellowed toenails. I coughed a hello and tried to see where my bed was. I am in hell I thought to myself, I was selfish and now God is punishing me by making me die at 22 by second hand smoke. I wanted to cry, which was easy since the smoke in the room was already making my eyes tear up. Agnes finished her cigarette and then began to notice that something was wrong.
“Are you okay darling?” she asked looking more like a nice grandmother than the evil smoke-welding devil she was when I walked in. I shrugged and felt the tears begin to flow as the words poured from my mouth in an unstoppable stream of thoughts. I told her about losing my mother, losing my 20’s and my life and she listened with the intent eyes of someone that you had known for a long time, not only 2 minutes in a smoke filled room on the geriatric cruise 2k6 extravaganza. Her kind eyes made me feel a little better, but more than that it was just having someone listen to me talk. Once I was finished I felt like all my emotion had been poured out like an empty glass.
“You know what you need,” she said fighting back a cough, “you need to get out and have a good time.”
Right old lady, you can show me a good time when you are practically dying, I thought to myself but what I said was, “Well…should we go out then?”
“Yes,” she said more excited with every word, “but first, lets take a few swigs.”
She then pulled out a flask that looked like it was from the 1920’s filled with something that tasted like it was even older but made me feel a little better. After I was sufficiently tipsy Agned decided to show me what her world was like. We went upstairs and played shuffleboard until dark and she talked about all the places she had seen and lovers she had. She told me about a young girl with a lot of dreams from Indiana that ended up leaving her husband and joining the Peace Corps to build wells in Africa. I was so amazed by her bravery and was convinced with every conversation that I should try to live my life just like her. At 22 I felt like I hadn’t really done anything yet but Agnes assured me that living through your mother dying meant that you were much older than you thought. After shuffleboard we got more drinks and flirted with some old men (alright, I mainly watched her flirt they were like my grampy’s age…..eww), and then danced a little bit. It was about 4 am by the time we stumbled back to our room, our feet heavy and happy from dancing all night. I smiled to myself glad that I had finally found a companion even if she was 72 years old.
By the time I got into bed the sun was just starting to peak over the ocean. Finally things were starting to get better I thought to myself. I was having fun and even laughing again something I thought wouldn’t happen for a long time. Even though I was 22 and supposed to be living it up it had been a long time since I had watched the sunrise. I leaned over to tell Agnes to look outside when I noticed she was turned into the wall. I thought she was just asleep so I sweetly whispered good night to her. When she didn’t respond I felt like something was wrong so I walked over to her bed only to see her eyes rolled back into her head. She must be sleeping I thought to myself, this can’t be happening to me again, not another death so soon. I tried helplessly to do CPR on a smoker of 60 plus years and realized that it was helpless. I had obviously thought life was looking up for me too soon.
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