Dolls and Real Life

I want to tell you about last week and the time my dolls Afton, Ellowyne, and I spent together.

A week ago last night I got a call from my sister telling me that my mom was failing fast and I needed to get there as soon as possible. Mom was diagnosed with cancer five weeks ago. Horribly fast and aggressive, it was in her liver, kidneys, pancreas, one lung, and her spine before it was even detected. She had a heart transplant in 2000, and had complete check-ups including chest x-rays and biopsies every three months; at her last checkup there was no sign of cancer, three months later it had spread through her body. Her doctor told us that it was almost certainly due to the anti-rejection drugs she took, that everyone has random little cancer cells that fire up from time to time but the body's own defenses take care of it. But the anti-rejection drugs suppressed the auto-immune function so when a really nasty type of cancer sprouted there was no defense for it.

Anyway, I got the call last Tuesday. It actually took me by surprise, as we'd been told that Mom most likely had two to three months left. This was happening way too soon. There was no time to get the whole family organized for the trip so just ninjakitty and I threw some stuff in an overnight bag and set out. We reached Mom's house just after midnight. I have four younger sisters, they were all there already. We all just sat with her and talked about every funny or sweet memory we could think of, she would smile sometimes or squeeze my hand but she was past talking. All the anger and hard feelings that had ever been between us was gone like smoke, even the memory of it wasn't relevant any more. At 4:15 Wednesday morning my Mom quietly passed away.

There's an amazing amount of things to do when someone close to you dies but eventually there comes a moment when all the arrangements are made, the casket, music, and flowers are chosen, the mourning clothes have been taken out and freshened up, the bags are packed for the return trip, and there's nothing to distract you from the thought that Mom is gone.

It's Saturday night, everyone else is asleep, we've got to be on the road very early Sunday morning to get back for Mom's funeral that afternoon. I should be asleep, too, but I can't. How can I go to sleep, Mom is gone. How can anything be normal again when the most not-normal thing in the world has happened and my Mom is gone. And for a horrible moment, all alone in my kitchen, I was simply overwhelmed. I hurt so bad I thought it was going to smother me.

After a few minutes I had to sit down, and the closest chair was at the kitchen table. I sat for while and cried, the ugly gulping sort of crying that makes your nose run and your whole face red, the kind of crying that grown-ups aren't supposed to do in front of anyone else. I finally stopped crying because I literally couldn't breath anymore, my nose badly needed blowing. I groped around trying to find a paper napkin but instead I found the little pink tea gown I'd been sewing for Afton. I do my sewing at the kitchen table, and this was what I'd been working on the previous Tuesday. I'd abandoned it right in the middle of a seam; the threaded needle was still set for the next stitch. I looked up, and there were Ellowyne and Afton both standing on the table where I'd left them. And I smiled, because since the moment I lifted her from her box there hasn't been a time that I looked at Afton's sweet face and lovely eyes and didn't smile.

So I found a napkin to blow my nose and I wiped my face then out of habit I picked up the tea gown again and finished the seam. It's a filmy chiffon material and crawls like mad, it takes concentration to make it behave properly. With that seam done I pinned the next skirt panel in place and kept stitching. After a few minutes, with my hands busy and my two pretty dolls silently, gently encouraging me, I stopped crying and started telling them about my Mom. Not out loud, of course, I'm not a complete nutter, but in my head. Telling them stories of the Barbie dolls Mom gave me when I was a little girl, and how every can of hairspray Mom bought had the lid immediately swiped because they were the perfect size to make stools and tables for Barbie. And though the only thing she could do with a needle was sew on a button or repair a hem, Mom still managed to show me enough that I could make my own bedspread and pillow for Barbie's shoebox bed.

So that's how we spent the entire night, Ellowyne, Afton, and I. I sewed, they listened. When the sun rose on Sunday morning and it was time to leave for our last trip to Mom's house I can't say I was exactly happy, but I was calm, and I could smile.

Would I have struggled through without my dolls, without those silent hours of stitching and their company? Sure, but it would have been hard, and without grace. I'm so blessed that I didn't have to. And now I know that the best, the sweetest thing I can pray for someone who is mourning their own loss is that they can somehow happen on that same quiet sense of peace.