Last One Standing

As I write this my mother is facing a very sad time in her life.  Her little brother recently suffered a massive heart attack and his family made the difficult decision to remove all life-support systems.  He is likely to pass from this world within a few hours.  Her older sister is in a nursing home after having had a stroke that has left her in a coma.  She is not expected to ever regain consciousness and her sons are struggling to figure out when it is time to say goodbye.  My grandfather, her Dad, died before I was born and my grandmother passed almost 20 years ago.  Soon, my mother will be the last member of her family left in this world. 

When I was a kid I relished those few occasions when I was the only one at home.  With three siblings, quality "me" time was hard to come by.  I would pass up going places just so I could be home by myself, free to watch what I wanted on TV, or take a nap, or raid the kitchen.  What made those times so special was the knowledge that within a few hours my family would be back home.  I could enjoy the peace and quiet in part because I knew I was not going to be alone forever.  The idea that my Mom, brother, or sisters would never come back again seldom crossed my mind, unless I was really mad in which case I might fantasize about the whole lot of them being abducted by aliens.  Even those desires were short lived (most of the time).

Eventually all of my siblings left home for good.  At one point my brother lived in Alaska, I lived in Kansas City, my mother and younger sister in St. Louis and my older sister in New York.  Family reunions were and are rare.  Yet they are possible.  Even though my parents are divorced they are still alive.  I can call either one up at will or trek to Kansas or Florida to see them.  That is a nice feeling (even if I don't do it nearly as often as a good son should). 

Only in her mid-60s, my mother is now alone.  The memories or family vacations, holidays, and other events that were important to the Davis clan reside only with her.  There is no one left to reminisce with, no one else who can recall the sights, sounds, smells and tastes.  As the middle child, I doubt that my mother ever dreamed that the day would come, so early in life, when she would be home alone.  For good.

Not only is she alone, but everyone else is together someplace else.  What they are experiencing I don't know.  One day I will find out for myself, so will my Mom.  But for now, they are enjoying it without her.  The longing to be reunited is a strong emotion, yet so is the desire to live a long full life.  There are kids and grandkids to be loved and enjoyed.  A husband to spend time with.  Friends who need her.  Yet, the pull must be there, to a place unseen, but real.  A dearly adored Dad gone for too many years, a Mom and brother and sister and the promise of restored relationships.  The communion they are all sharing at this moment will have to wait for my Mom. 

One day I too may be the last one standing.  I do not hope for that day.  I want to live a long life, a good life, but for some reason I have no desire to be the one who gets left turning off the lights.  I will happily leave that task to my younger brother or sister.  At my passing they can tell all the old stories of our childhood (and a few made up ones as well) and relive the good and bad times, if they choose.  I don't mind going ahead and getting things ready for them.  At least I will know that there is someone to say goodbye who remembers a different me, the one that still believed in Santa, hunted for Easter eggs, and pretended to be Luke Skywalker when we played in the basement.

I love my mother more than she may realize.  I hurt for her right now.  I hope she can take some comfort in the promise that there will come a day when she will not be alone.  Selfishly, I pray it does not come too soon.  When it does, I know I will find a way to rejoice that her family is together again in the loving embrace of the God who created and loves them.