memory joggers

Rugby Road a small road in suburban Northern Virginia , it begins at West Ox Road, intersects with Fairfax County Parkway and ends on Route 50. It's an unremarkable road, with the usual mix of houses except for the fact that it links three major roads - Fx Cty Pkwy, W Ox and Rt. 50 in addition to a Hospital. I had known this road as the land mark for when I needed to move into the right lane to exit at Route 50 from the FFC Parkway until it became an actual turn I had to make to get to the Nursing home that housed my mother for a brief period before she breathed her last in the hospital which was on the same road. And for a brief period, the land mark that signified a lane change had become the doorway to my destination.

My mother was in the nursing home towards the end of a long drawn out end-of -life dance, during which she was consumed by periods of terror and pain and the ones who loved her watched on helplessly, wrapped in their own pain and despair as they witnessed the suffering of a loved one. I would go see her in the evening, after I had completed the mechanics of what the day required me to do - work, cook, clean, walk the dog etc. I would usually find her tired from her day, frequently lost and scared in a place where no one spoke her language.

The call from her doctor came with a feeling of deja-vu, mom has high fever and was on her way to the ER, I needed to meet her there as decisions would have to be made. I watched myself go through the mechanics of informing my siblings on what was expected of us. I still held hope that the denial and the thin layer of feigned ignorance on their end of how sick she was would be abandoned for the truth of the situation. Our mother was tired, treatment was painful and was extending pain and not any form of quality to her life. But the clarity of this situation seemed to loose its simple truth in translation, and the message that this was the end of the road for our mother translated to a much murkier one as I went through the several rounds of calls. My words and messages soft and kind at first, went to a tired but imperative- "Her doctors do not expect her to last the night, come now." Direct and clear I thought, but it still left them wondering if they could have time to settle the pressing demands of life and work before they journeyed to her death bed. What they really wanted to ask in their normal double talk was a request for the doctors to continue to keep her alive, but there was no direct question. If asked, I was ready with the response from my deepest conviction, "I will not authorize any aggressive or invasive treatment to keep her breathing just so you may have extra time to get here." Some things are to be understood, I would also not give them the odds of whether this was their last chance to be with her, it was left to them to choose to cancel what the could and abandon other important deadlines and be with her or not.

The hours between the decision of not continuing treatment and her passing were the most peaceful for her and for me. She seemed to be on the easiest leg of her long journey. It was as if after weathering so many squalls and stormy weather, she was smoothly sailing towards a calm harbor. Her face reflected this inner calm with a suddenly smooth brow and a serene expression. And this how she passed away, without a struggle for breath or a glance back, she had reached her journey's end.

So back to Rugby road, I continue to pass it on my way to the various destinations that lay past it. Now, when I pass the sign for this road, my mind quickly shifts back to her last days and a series of images from the nursing home or the last day at the hospital flash in my minds eye with quick succession and for a few brief moments I re-live those moments. I struggle for a few moments to find my center and bring myself to the present where she is no more but she is also without pain.

One of my co-workers, Chris who lives in the vicinity of Rugby road recently starting a walking regimen and uses it as his turning point for his daily walks. He does not remember the name of the road where he turns back, for him its the road with the big H sign on it signifying its proximity to a hospital. As we gather around the coffee machine in the mornings, and he is recounting his daily walks, Chris will usually say, "I walk up to this road not sure what its called, but it has and H sign on it" and and I chime in with "its Rugby Road" and as soon as I say the name, I flash back to the now familiar flashes of images of mom and her last days. As I walk back to my office, now with a tinge of loss and sadness, I tell myself that I should stay away from any conversations leading up to the naming of this road or driving by it. Not until I can re-live memories of mom without it triggering the sense of loss and a reminder of how helpless I felt as I watched her suffer.

But I realize some things I can not run away from and memories will continue to be jogged into appearance and someday healing will occur and I will smile at the flashbacks rather then feel sad and depleted. So when a few days later, Chris is talking to someone and calls me over with a "what's the name of the road that I walk up to?" I hear myself say "rugby road" as I walk back to my office in a cocoon of memories, but now I softly cradle the familiar sad painful feelings with the knowledge that the sadness will remain, but the pain will eventually diminish.