Her last road
Her last road
has become my daily bread.
Those are the first two lines of a poem I suppose I’ll never write. I’ve carried them in my heart back and forth to the hospital thrice each week since September. My desire has been to finish it, but the words, other than these, don’t come. Perhaps you won’t mind if I speak in simple ways of what they mean.
My mother suffered from schizophrenia — or a very close derivative of that disease — severe depression, the weight of having grown up under an alcoholic father and the consequential and crippling codependency in all of her family members that never allowed any of them to truly see, admit or take action about what was truly wrong. She committed suicide on May 12, 2007.
Her chosen place was the field adjacent to the farming shed that belonged to her boyfriend. She died outside in the nature that she loved so much, just off a road between my hometown and a nearby village. And it was this way that I was asked to drive to my hospital assignment this semester.
I simultaneously dreaded the drive and was comforted by it. To be seeing the last things on Earth that she did kept me strangely wrapped in solidarity with her, and I have needed to feel her close. But then the tears would come. All the different sorts too – of guilt, of loneliness, fear, sadness, rage. I would arrive at my post with this maelstrom in my heart and was so thankful for the work of my hands to forget the pain.
Countless times, I have asked God why he presented this challenge to me. I could have been assigned to any one of seven hospitals, but he chose this road.
The answer came one day when I drove past that village I mentioned — the hospital was a little further on. He asked me to come this way because he knew I needed to be close to her and because he knew I needed to be reminded that I am meant to go on. From my heart, I heard…
This is not your last road, Kalanna. You have much still ahead.
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cecilia
Kalanna
Holli
wow, kalanna. first and foremost, i am sorry for your loss.
this was a very powerful piece. very touching.
thanks, m. i really appreciate it.
to everyone, i’ll apologize in advance that my posts for awhile might be somber. all of this happened over six months ago, but it has taken that long for me to be able to write about it. moving towards something better, I hope and pray and trust.