A Partly Fiction Story
by Donna Poole
Oh, they tell “the kids” a lot.
Too much, probably.
Though their offspring now range in age from fifty down to thirty-three, they will always be “the kids” to them.
“Sit down, kids; sit down.” And so, they tell the kids every dark, dismal, detail of each procedure and test, his heart and kidney problems, her cancer. Poor kids, they hear it all, over and over, ad nauseum, terms like EGFR, occluded circumflex, stent, chemotherapy, clinical trial, abnormal EKG, PET scan, CT.
***
A phone buzzes.
“It’s another text from Mom.”
“You look.”
“No, you look.”
“I can’t. I’m trying to have a good day.”
***
But they don’t tell the kids everything.
“Have we told the kids we’re having a contest to see which of us can scare them the most?” she asks.
“I think they know it.” He grins.
“So, what does the winner of the contest get?”
He looks apprehensive. “What did you have in mind?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A trip to the Bahamas would be nice.”
Then he laughs. “I was thinking more like a trip to Osseo.”
Osseo
Distance from home: Maybe six miles
Population: 3,063
Attraction: Post Office
“If all I get is a trip to Osseo than I’m going to quit trying to scare the kids.”
He hugs her. “I wish you would.”
“Honey,” she asks in a voice muffled by his shoulder, “do you think we tell the kids too much?”
“We don’t tell them everything.”
That was true. They didn’t tell them every time he got chest pains while he was preaching. They never shared she couldn’t remember all the grandkids’ names, especially the younger ones. They didn’t confess that when they answered, “How are you feeling” with “Okay,” the word “okay” could mean anything from contented lethargy to tears of pain.
There was that one time when okay meant “fantastic!” They’d never told the kids she felt wonderful that day when she’d taken his pills by mistake. Nor did they speak about the road trip they’d taken to New York and ended up in California. They’d always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean anyway.
There were things they wished they could say to the kids but didn’t know how.
Please, when we’re gone, don’t remember the old parents whose bodies held their own contest to see which part could fail fastest. Don’t recall the mom and dad whose minds might turn to mush before Jesus calls them Home. Remember the young parents who took you tent camping and managed a whole week of fun on just seven dollars. Think about the strong parents who carried you, who took you swimming and sledding and on picnics and on road trips to see grandparents.
It’s late. They’re lying in bed, talking.
“Do you think they know?” she asks him.
“Who knows what?” He’s trying to sleep.
“Our kids and in-law kids and grandkids. Do you think they know how much we love them?”
“I’m sure they do. Try to go to sleep, okay?”
“No, I have to call them. Just in case they don’t know, I want to tell them I might forget later.”
“It’s too late. Wait until morning.”
“It is morning! It’s one minute after midnight.”
And so, she calls, one after another, everyone who has a cell phone.
His face is buried in his pillow and he’s snoring when she finishes. She wakes him up.
“Honey, no one answered. All the calls went right to voice mail.”
“Of course they did. You do know you’re going to get worried call backs the minute they wake up?”
“No, I won’t get any calls. I used your phone.”
“You did WHAT?”
“Yeah, In case they were asleep, I didn’t want them to think I was the one bothering them for something silly in the middle of the night.”
He tries to frown, but he can’t do it.
And then the two of them fall asleep, laughing, and holding hands.
“Honey!” She pokes him. “Remind me to tell the kids getting old isn’t all bad. Sometimes it’s fun.”
He groans. “And sometimes it’s exhausting.”
Moonlight streams in the window. She sees his face, next to her on the pillow. She knows she’s blessed to have him. She prays for those who no longer have a loved one next to them.
Cherish the moments together, she thinks. I have to remember to tell the kids.
So dear. We are understand this perfectly. We are so thankful for each other and our wonderful Saviour…. 84 and 88 are fun—- well sometimes. Love and prayers you two ..
Jane, and Pastor Pierpont too,
The two of you are an inspiration. God bless you both, I pray!
This right here got me in the feels. This was absolutely amazing. But I absolutely know they know how much you love them. They probably know your not telling them everything too but trust that you will tell them the important stuff. THANK YOU for this heart felt writing. It made my eyes rain a little but a good shower. Love you and your writing.
Jennie,
If you ever feel compelled to call your boys at 3 a.m. just because you want to tell them you love them, you can always say, “Donna made me do it!” 🙂
I’ve loved you since you were a little girl, and I love you still!
Donna
You make trials so interesting! Always a silver lining. That’s what I love watching the most. Your absolute faith. ❤️
Louise,
Shh, don’t tell anyone, but my faith isn’t always absolute! It falters sometimes, but Jesus never fails. I’m grateful!
…and I sit here with tears rolling out of my eyes. Your words are beautiful! You really know how to write… what a divine gift from heaven. You are the coolest couple I have ever known! However, your kind, loving hearts are the most powerful thing I’ve ever witnessed. The love you share is not to be measured because there is no yardstick for perfect. Perfection doesn’t mean no problems, but no problem is too big. You are lucky to share the love you do. You already know that. Your kids, in law kids and grands are so very blessed to come from such lineage. I’m proud to know you! I’m proud to call you friend. ✝️❤️♾🙏🏻
~~Anne Potts, your brain sister 💖
Anne,
My brain sister, it’s true, isn’t it, that our trials can become our testimony? Yours shines online! I’m glad our “faulty” brains allowed us to get to know each other here. It’s a friendship I know we’ll continue in heaven.
Blessings,
Donna
Thank you for this. I look back and wish my Mom had told me more aboutwhat she was going through and how she felt. The years I cared for her were some of the worst, yet, some of the best most cherished. Now I find myself too, as does my hubby, holding things back from the kids/grandkids. I tell them i love them, but often wake in the early morning hours, tempted to call to tell them. Thank you.
June,
I understand about the “worst, yet some of the best most cherished.” We cared for John’s mom. It was a blessing though not always easy. But we’d do it again, wouldn’t we?
Maybe we should all synchronize our watches and everyone call the kids for real at 3 a.m.! 🙂
Blessings!
Donna
Precious! God bless!
Hi Fred,
I imagine you and Rachel are gearing up for your Italy tour! God bless you both!
Donna
Precious and holy, beyond words. Thank you for this, Donna. I cannot tell you how much this blessed me.
You cracked me up because I can identify with so many things you mentioned. I so wish we could meet up with you to hug and laugh and be thankful for the life and times God has given us in ministry and the children who take the phone calls or texts or listen to us say Love You, just before handing up. Yes, we are blessed to still have our mates to commiserate with and laugh with and cry with and still plan and hope with. Keep sharing your ramblings because you are touching those who read them. God bless your days and keep taking good care of each other.
Love,
Mary
Mary,
Thank you for taking time from your own busy writing and speaking schedule to encourage me! Yep–I can imagine there are things you don’t tell yours either, and being PK’s there are probably a few things they didn’t tell you! 🙂 God bless you and yours, I pray.
Love, Donna
Love this!
Thank you and God bless! Donna 🙂