Mishaps and Miseries

I was at the Irrigator, running through our preliminary runsheet, when I got a text from my boyfriend, Tyler.

“I wish you were here, I need to talk about stuff”

My heart aches: “What kind of stuff?” I know he loves me, so I didn’t doubt that this was a typical break up scene. Nevertheless, I was cautious, and quite un-content. What do we need to discuss? My lack of income; our long separation; or/and the troubles of our future?

None of the above.

“Mom is in the hospital.”

This was the first time I’ve ever heard him call his mother Mom, instead of Linda. She was always Linda to me. She was quite unique from any mother I’ve ever witnessed; though quite beautiful, and intimate with others in an appropriate, social manner, she never seemed like the doting mother, nor Tyler the needy boy. But today, in his rising concern and defeated front, she was Mom. I always wanted him to call her Mom, and was quite vocal in making my point on the subject; but he would just give me one of those beautiful side smirks and say nothing.

Perhaps she broke a bone, or hit her head. Afterall, Tyler wasn’t running out the door, or calling me intensely with a great apprehension and distress. He was still at work.

“Doctors aren’t sure, but think there is a tumor in her brain by her optic nerves. She’s blind in the left eye and rapidly losing vision in her right. It has all happened over about a week. I’m worried she will never see me, again.”

I had a rising panic at the office, but continued to answer phone calls and enter fictitious business statements within the first half hour before I could answer his call with appropriate attribution. I thought of calling, but didn’t want to neglect his feelings if I had to hang up suddenly. I tried to stay involved, and continuously damned the clock by the minute; if only it was my lunch hour. One hour to go, forty-five minutes left, forty minutes, now thirty-nine…

I was so nervous, but tried to remain civil and obedient.  

His text had shaken me. I knew Linda to have health problems before. She had a tumor while he was in high school, which was quite life threatening. When I finally had the chance to get to my phone, I urged him to see her immediately. He declined.

I think it is hard for him to have to come to terms with her blindness. I was selfish that I didn’t want to call him; I didn’t want to hear his raspy voice, how it squeals a little when he (and most men) cry. What an idiot I was today, to not comfort him further. I wanted to call, I wanted to drive down to Santa Cruz and hold him, but at the same time…I just didn’t want to be the rock. I’m not a strong person emotionally. I could never find the right words to say in a pinch such as this.

“I’m worried that she will never see me, again,” his text said. I was shocked by the rest, and sorry for Linda’s misfortune. But the last sentence struck me. It had obliterated every hesitation that I had ever wondered about their warm relationship. I knew that they were civil people, maybe a little too uptight for my taste; but their love was just as strong as any between a mother and son. They just had a unique, reserved way of showing their love than I was ever accustomed to.

Many texts later, and after a carefully planned travel excursion to Petaluma, we plan to take off for the weekend to visit his mother.

I hope, however, that when we see her, I can be his rock, and hers too, if need be.

Even if she can not witness my emotional trauma through her blindness, I do hope that she will see me and Tyler as active participants who will always, and willingly, be there as her guide through any emotional suffering and devastation so that she may find happiness and comfort throughout the rest of her years.

But I’m so petrified that I would fail to comfort her, or him.