Sledgehammers And Silent Night

This story from our fixer-upper days, Sledgehammers and Silent Night, illuminates our challenges. Some were visible, and one required a 911 call.

Sledgehammers

We had lived in our house for about ten days. Pete was worn out and home sick with the flu. He made several mad dashes to the front bathroom closest to the den, our temporary bedroom. After the most recent trip to the not-so-restful restroom, I heard Pete screaming, “Mar, bring me the sledgehammer!”

I grabbed the requested Thor-size hammer and wondered what in the world he planned to do. When I opened the bathroom door, he looked pale and ill but determined.

As he swung it and destroyed the hideous mosaic vanity ever created by humankind, he explained his request. “Mar, I can’t take it. I don’t know which end to have over the pot. I’m sicker than a snake and went to look under the vanity for more toilet paper. Instead, I found disgusting, used woman pads that gagged me even worse than the flu. This piece of crap is going out of here today!”

Sick as he was, that vanity was in the truck and going to the dump fodder by the end of the day. This was one of many exhausting moments. Down the road, Pete and I laughed about the “bad flu day,” but having a little one and a house that needed just as much care was challenging.

Meeting Our Neighbors

Our new residence on Euclid Avenue created opportunities to meet, talk with and get to know our neighbors better. Often while we worked outside, one of them would wander over, introduce themselves, and tell us what a great job we were doing with our house. Hayes was always close by in his walker or playpen, and I think he was the real reason they walked over. People would talk to him and fuss over Fun Fuller #3.

I could tell our son liked being around people and being part of the action. It calmed me to realize on those ordinary days that the best moments of our lives do not happen because of wealth, fame, good looks, or good luck. The best happens when we slow down, listen, and value life and our loved ones.

Mom’s Second Visit

My mom called about a month after we moved into our Castle of Great Potential. She wanted to fly out again to visit and celebrate Christmas with us, play with her grandson, and see our new house.

She was in a rare, good mood and told me she had a checkup recently. The doctor told her she was in good condition. There is no greater fortune than to be in good health during your late sixties.

Pete bought a Santa Suit for the big day. We found a ten-foot Scotch Pine to display our ornaments, mostly given to us by family or friends. The soothing smell of fresh pine in our den, especially in the mornings, was an effective cover-up for the other house odors I was in the process of perpetually scrubbing away.

Mom arrived about a week before Christmas. Pete and I appreciated her efforts to spend the holidays with us after the exhausting year for the Fun But Frazzled Fuller Family. Paul, as my sis and I often affectionately called our mom, helped prepare for Christmas Eve and Day. Our time together was jammed with Hayes Fuller care, cleaning, decorating, writing the holiday cards, shopping, wrapping presents, cooking, and baking.

Seeing this side of my mom, so hidden during my childhood, kept the healing feelings in motion. She gently tapped Hayes on his chest while she hummed a song or recited This Little Piggy. While watching Granny Paul embrace and bond with her grandson, a message inside kept repeating: “Forgive her, Marilyn, forgive.”

I noticed a mystery about her achy yet faithful hands when she held Hayes. I became aware that my mom had her mother’s hard-working fingers and broad palms. I wondered if Hayes’ hands would be like hers. Would he remember those early moments with his only living grandmother rocking him peacefully to sleep in her arms?

Xmas Eve Albuquerque Style

Albuquerque is most beautiful on Christmas Eve with luminarias in every community, peaceful or restless, lighting the way for the Christ child. The beauty of the evening requires hours of locating and hauling sand, folding the tops of brown paper bags, filling the bags with sand and candles, and then lighting each one at dusk.

Pete worked hard on Christmas Eve to set up our luminarias and then helped other neighbors with theirs. Once they were patiently flickering, we relaxed and enjoyed our simple and delicious dinner of tamales made by someone Pete knew from work.

Silent Night

After working on the festivities most of the day, Pete and Hayes were beat and decided to enjoy quiet recliner time, watching the multi-color lights twinkle on the Christmas tree.

Mom and I were also weary, but our need to worship was greater than our exhaustion. We attended an early Christmas Eve service at a Methodist church (my mom’s faith at that time) minutes from our house. After the traditional carols and worship, final prayer, and blessing, everyone slowly walked out with candles and sang Silent Night.

I noticed she was focused on the golden star on the church’s floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree. Her demeanor seemed different to me, and she looked tired but peaceful. Like the Christmas carol’s title, she remained silent when I asked her if she felt okay, but nodded yes.

Following the service, I took my mom for a leisurely drive to check out the best holiday lights and luminaria displays in certain parts of the city. Driving around, we noticed a beautiful quote on the sign in front of the elementary school near our house that urged all driving by:

I wondered if that unexpected message was the divine hotline to heal the past between a mom and a daughter. I wondered if we would see any other signs blinking messages about forgiveness, mercy, release and freedom. After about an hour of driving around, we headed back home to go to bed and recharge for Christmas day.

Christmas Day

What a day to remember! Our first Christmas with Hayes and his grandmother. Santa greeted us with cups of coffee, hugs, and a loud “Merry Christmas.” The all-day festive music played in the background while the three of us chatted and waited for Hayes to wake up. It did not take long for The Radar Guy to figure out he was late for the party. After a couple of sips of coffee and some sweet breakfast treats, we heard his funny coughing cry pleading to join us.

We celebrated the holiday spirit in our first home without wheels with our first child and my mom, a woman I finally wanted to get to know. We partied and ate all day long. Mr. Claus Sir took over the cooking responsibilities for the day and baked a bone-in ham, made sweet and mashed potatoes, broccoli with American cheese sauce, rolls, and chocolate cream pie.

In the afternoon, Brandon knocked on our door and wanted to wish Hayes a Merry Christmas and see what Santa brought him. From that moment forward, like a brother, it wasn’t officially Christmas in the House of Fuller until Brandon came over to hang out with Hayes.

Never far from my camera, I took pictures of Santa and Hayes and my mom and Hayes to eternalize our happy day. It was wonderful that my mom and I got to share our love for Hayes with each other. It was the first and only Christmas we ever spent together after I left Illinois nine years earlier to move to New Mexico.

Three Mornings After Xmas

Three mornings after Christmas, I was breastfeeding Hayes in bed and noticed my mom’s door was still closed. The time was around 8:30 AM and she usually woke up about 7 AM.

I got one of those nagging gut feelings and decided to call her name while I continued to feed her grandson. Nothing but silence. She didn’t answer and I got scared. I hurriedly put Hayes in his crib and knocked on the bedroom door. When I opened it, her gray face and still body shocked me. I grasped her right hand, and it was ice cold. The panic set in and I wept, “Mom, please, you can’t be gone. Things were just beginning to heal between us.”

In a blur, I ran down our narrow hallway to call 911 for help. I was hysterical as I explained to the 911 operator that I had just discovered my mom had passed away in her sleep and to send an ambulance immediately. I made a frantic call to Pete at work, and he made record-breaking time getting home.

Why!

The whys of disbelief grabbed hold of me. Why did my mom die while visiting us? Why-when we were finally getting to know each other? Why did she get a good physical and then two months later she was gone? Why did I find a prescription for Pepto Bismol with her things? Why did I have to find her body so colorless, lifeless, and stiff? Why did the emergency responders ask me the same questions over and over? Why did both of my parents die so unexpectedly before my eyes? Why are there so many unanswered whys in life? Why can’t I think about anything else but these questions over and over?

My reality: As I wrote about in The Dad I Loved But Never Understood, I watched my father turn blue when I was 19. At 37, I found my mother’s gray face and body after she had passed away in her sleep. Her grandson was 7 months old. Pete’s mother died when Hayes was two weeks old. I think I know how unfair life can be.

Tough Cookie Question: Will grief never let me go?

Copyright © 2022-2024 Marilyn K Fuller. All Rights Reserved.

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