Prologue
“Your brother was here earlier,” said the mother to her daughter. “You just missed him.”
Technically he was her half-brother, but never had anyone ever made that distinction. The two of them, despite being separated in age by more than a decade, were always close. Their bond was as much owing to how they were raised as anything else. And together, they would always be there for their mother, as she had been there for them.
She had spent much of her life dedicated to her children. Returning the favor, now that she was alone, again, was the least that her children could do for her.
Today, like many days, the daughter was visiting her mother who now lived in an independent living village. Nearly 15 years had elapsed since her father had died and the burden of being alone in their family home finally had taken its toll. Their mother simply called her kids over for lunch one day a few months ago and told them she was moving.
And that was that.
Sort of.
The Research Triangle area of central North Carolina was known more for its growth and appeal for a younger generation. Besides the many colleges and universities in the area, many of the businesses were also youth oriented. This demographic led to an excess of apartments geared for the younger generations. Finding an independent living village that met their mother’s exacting standards was not the easiest task for her children. They found many ‘retirement homes’ but few and far in between were places truly set up for someone like their mother.
Still in charge of her faculties, and of her body as well, she just could not bear it any longer to remain in the house that she and her daughter’s father had called home.
It was long past time for a change.
Worries about her children once again overrode her desires. Her second husband had taught her to take care of herself and, just like when they had met, with him not in her life to guide her, she once again took way too long to care for herself.
When she left her home, she took very few items since the memories would not be good ones. Even the furniture could tell stories that brought her sadness when the good times were relived in her own mind. She needed to move on and enjoy the here and now, not dwell in the past.
Now that she was away from the home in which she had, so many years ago, regained her strength and her ability to share love with a partner, she once again was living life to the fullest. She had lots of friends in the village and she enjoyed yoga time. Most importantly, she enjoyed visits from her children, and her grandchildren when they could stop by.
A major part of her joy came from reliving tales of her husband, especially with her daughter. Her daughter was away in college when he died so it hit her especially hard. Hearing stories of her dad, especially after so many years, helped her cope with his being gone.
There were, of course, some stories about her life with her second husband that she kept to herself.
Her mother also enjoyed telling the grandkids stories about their family history. They always asked about two particular portraits, one of a woman, and one of a man, that she displayed on the mantel above her gas fireplace. She enjoyed retelling the stories of these distant relatives, but she only had limited details of how they might have been related.
“You should take these old photos,” she told her daughter, as she got up to leave. “But keep them someplace safe,” she implored. “The kids seem drawn to them, so I’d hate to have anything happen.”
Her daughter tried to feign disinterest in the pictures, but she too was attracted to them. One day she vowed, she would figure out how they fit into her own life. She carefully wrapped them up in a towel borrowed from her mother and placed them in her oversized purse for transport home.
As they said their goodbyes, her mother reminded her of her passion for kibitzing in her daughter’s life.
“You should dye your hair, dear,” she intoned as her daughter was leaving. “The gray is showing up more and more.”
“I’m not you mom!” she replied, as she waved goodbye.
