Echoes Of Life

                                               by Rebecca Gurnsey written in 1988

            Home!  Just the thought brought sweet childhood memories of back yard BBQs, hours on the phone with my best friend, family reunions, evening T.V. with the family, memories that I often reflect on to soothe a troubled day.  I really should visit more often, but between the office, Ted’s hounding me for some time with him, and little Jacob’s ball practice, I just don’t have the time to spend with Mom.  I know that she gets lonely, but soon, things will change and she won’t have to suffer that unbearable loneliness that she often calls me about.  Since Dad passed away, her health just seemed to go downhill.  She hasn’t been eating right and never gets any exercise.  I worry so much about her.  If someone would just come and take care of her, maybe things would be different.  Money is just too tight for us to hire anyone and her government benefits barely meet her basic needs.  Dad’s retirement fund didn’t last long when he was alive, now it’s totally depleted.  There is just no other place to turn.    
   
The roses clustered around the front steps were in full bloom, as I pulled my car into the driveway.  I remember playing dolls with Christi June there just…..has it been that long ago?  It seems only a few short years.  Forty years went by so fast.  I took my time walking up the walkway and stopped to smell the large pink roses that had opened to the morning sun.  The smell was sweet, just as I remembered it.  Mom always had a way with roses.  The neighbors would stop by and compliment her on them, while she carefully pruned and nurtured her prizes on those warm summer afternoons.  Oh, Mom, if only things could be different.

            I stood in front of the door for awhile just remembering when I walked through it leaving for good, off on my own.  I was only eighteen.  Well, I thought of myself as being on my own.  Going away to college, expense account in the bank, credit card in my purse, and new car waiting for me in the drive; I was finally independent.  Even though Mom and Dad gave me all those things, I felt I had earned them.  After all, I had been the model student, graduated with honors.  I had done all of the things they asked of me, well mostly. 

            There was one time that I had thought life was over.  I was sure that nothing would work out.  At age fifteen my passions had gotten the better of me and soon I found that the boy I thought was my one and only, had split and left me pregnant.  But thank goodness Mom and Dad knew just what to do.  A quick trip to the doctor and my problems were solved.  They told me that it wasn’t a baby, just a mass of tissue that would become a baby, if we didn’t terminate it right away.  I had the abortion and some counseling afterwards to help me overcome the guilty feelings that I was having.  So, I could continue on the cheer leading team, be the star in the senior musical and date the senior class president.  High school was wonderful, and then college equally great, except for finding myself pregnant again the middle of my junior year.  Mom and Dad were there for me then, too.   They always were.  They deposited the funds in my account and I had no trouble finding a doctor in the city close to my university.  I didn’t need counseling after that abortion.  It was just a necessary minor surgery.  If it had not been for their understanding and savings, I wouldn’t have graduated.  I would have been faced with an unwanted pregnancy and then the problems of what to do with a baby.  Oh, Mom and Dad saved me.  Right after graduation, I moved back to my home town, got a great job with a progressive company, my own apartment, and have been working my way up the corporate ladder ever since. 

            Slowly, I reached up and opened the door.  “Mom, it’s Linda,” I called as I entered the familiar hallway.  I looked up the tall, curved stairway and could almost see myself, clad in rows of white lace and pearls, slowly walking down the stairs, tightly clutching Dad’s arm.  It was a great idea to have our wedding in this house, especially since Mom and Dad agreed to pay for everything, if we would.  That day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and I suppose, in some ways, it was.  Ted and I were off to a pretty good start, but things haven’t worked out like we had planned.  Sometimes I think that it’s just because we are too busy to really spend much time together; but, where is the time?  We both are executives in large companies and have such great demands on us that we barely have time for Jacob.  I have tried so hard to be a model mother.  I thought I never would find the best day care for him, and my search took me right up to the last week of my six weeks maternity leave.  But, I did find a great day care and he was relatively happy there.  Now, with school and ball practice, he doesn’t need the day care anymore.  We sure are glad he’s such a responsible nine year old.  Most of the time, I do manage to make practice before it’s over and his Dad and I haven’t missed one game.  We want him to know how much he means to us, and to realize that he’s so special, the only child we will ever have.  It’s a good thing, too.  We have our hands full with this one.  We just couldn’t maintain the level of lifestyle that we want for our son, and ourselves, and have more children.  After all, nothing’s too good for Jacob.  It’s wonderful that the government saw that ahead of time for us and made the Family Care Laws.     My memories subsided as I focused my thoughts to the issue at hand.  “Mom, where are you?” I called.

            “In here, dear, in the den,” came a weak, but familiar voice.  I slowly walked into the den.  “Come, sit with me awhile, darling.  I just want to watch the news before we go,” Mom said, patting the cushion beside her.

            “Now, Mom, what difference does it make what the news says today?  Things will be the same for you, no matter what,” I replied, doing as she requested and nestling down onto the overstuffed sofa.

            “I know, dear, but what difference will a few more minutes make?  Those people aren’t going anywhere.  They said I could come anytime, right?” she smiled and gave me a hug.

            “I suppose you’re right.  But I have to be back at work by three.  I have a meeting at four, and I’m really not quite prepared for it.”  I leaned over and laid my head on her small, shrunken shoulder.  “Okay, I’ll take a little more time, for you, mom.  You’ve certainly given me enough of yours.”  The sound of the morning news blared in the room.  Mom’s hearing loss made it necessary for her to have the volume twice the normal level.  I wasn’t interested in the war in the Middle East, nor the latest successful experiments on the space station.  For now, I was just going to savor this time, close to my mom.  There was precious little of it left.  I snuggled up to her, while she laid her withered hand on my lap, and I clutched it tightly. 

            Mom had a difficult life, growing up in the last half century.  She told me of the rampant crime, drive by shootings, and violent protests of everything from abortion to gay rights.  It’s hard to believe that anyone would protest the marriage of two people who love each other.  Their gender makes no difference.  Dad used to say, “It’s those Bible thumping conservatives who want everyone to be as miserable as they are!”  I guess that argument was solved by putting gays in the White House.  Now, with no more discrimination, people are allowed to express their feelings for each other in any way, anywhere, without fear of being victims of hate crimes. 

            Things are still bad, but new laws have pretty much calmed the violence down.  Gun control helped some, but what has really helped the most are the new conditioning laws for violent offenders.  When they are released from the Centers for a Better Life, they seldom return to their former way of violent behavior.  Drugs and hypnotherapy usually have lasting effects.  Those who regress are reconditioned up to three times, and then if all efforts fail they are terminated.  This has given us a much more peaceful life than Mom and Dad had.  Something had to be done and my generation is really grateful for hers, who had the guts to pass the legislations.

            “In other news,” the T.V. commentator announced, “The Commonwealth of Europe has just signed a peace treaty which unifies Iran and Iraq.  They are expected to join the United Arabic States in the near future.  This promises to be the beginning of a long and lasting relationship.  The United Americas is expected to sign this peace treaty tomorrow.   Meanwhile the war between Israel and The United Arabic States has taken an unexpected turn.  There are rumors of possible peace talks underway.  Hostilities have ceased.  More from our foreign correspondent in Israel.”

            Wars.  I grew up with some country always fighting with another.  It had become expected.  It sounds like the countries are finally unifying and the One World Order may finally become a reality.  Oh, well, too much to think about, too many problems.  That’s just how mom told me she felt when she was in high school.  She recanted the story on several occasions in the past, of how she found herself pregnant at an inopportune time.  Her mom wasn’t so supportive and abortion was illegal.  She found out about a secret clinic which several of her friends had used.  She had to get the money from her boy friend’s dad for her abortion.  If grandma had ever found out what she did, there would have been a family feud.  She never told her parents.  And, luckily, she didn’t have any complications like her friend, Jill, did.  Jill mysteriously died.  “Infection of unknown origin” was scribbled on the death certificate by the coroner.  The coroner, Mom, Jill, and the abortionist were the only ones who knew where the infection came from.  Later, she found out that the coroner was taking payoffs from the clinic.  Mom and her generation fought hard to make it legal.  Things were going well for abortions, but then some Christian organizations began telling everyone that millions of abortions are done each year.  They said that they were babies and not just tissue.  They got a lot of people all riled up, and then the violent protests began.  For awhile it looked like this freedom was in danger.  There were so many girls who needed abortions and couldn’t afford them.  Sometimes the clinics would do a teen’s for free, when they had enough women who could pay for theirs.  Mom said that abortion was merciful to the unborn.  If they had to grow up in a life where they might not be cared for, it would be far worse for them.  I agree.  What kind of life would I have had if I couldn’t have had my abortions?  What about the children?  Sure we could have adopted them out, but how would we be certain that the adoptive parents would be good to them?  Abortion was far more merciful. 

            I looked up at Mom’s wrinkled face and cloudy eyes.  She was staring at the T.V. with an uncertain glare.  I wasn’t sure that she was really paying attention to the news.  But, if that is what she wanted, I’d give it to her.  She earned these few minutes, and I would cherish this closeness forever.  Thanks to Mom and her generation of courageous freedom of choice fighters, abortion on demand is legal, everywhere, and the government pays 100%.  Girls don’t have to sleep with their boy friend’s fathers for the money, and hard working parents don’t have to spend their savings to provide abortions for their daughters, like mine did.  Mom spent many long hours working at the “Choice Centers” preparing demonstrations, literature, working with politicians, and giving speeches at fundraisers.  She earned her rest and she would rest well.

            “And that’s the news Thursday morning, June 2nd, 2010.”  The scene on the T.V. switched to a commercial. Mom just kept staring with a blank look on her face.

            “Mom, the news is over,” I said, lifting my head from off her shoulder.  “We really need to be going.  We have to do this today so the ceremony can be held Saturday.”  I gently stroked her white hair and pulled her face towards mine.  “Look at me, Mom.  This is the only morning I can take off, and we are scheduled to leave for our vacation to Australia on Sunday.”  I took her in my arms and held her close.  “You know that Ted and I will be gone for three weeks.  We need this time together to try to patch up our marriage.  No one will be here to look in on you.  I know that you want the best for us right, Mom?”  I gently let go of her and looked into her eyes.  Tears were just on the edge of her lashes, one slowly trickling down her cheek.  “The Federal Child Protection Agency has already scheduled Jacob for Behavior Camp during that time and that can’t be canceled.  It’s the only time Ted and I can get away, alone.  You know that you will be happier.  Since Dad died, you’ve been so lonely, you don’t eat properly, and the Medical Board said that you reached your limit for health care, months ago.  The medical bills have piled up and they will confiscate the house for auction, if we don’t sell it and pay them.  There just isn’t any more money.  There will barely be enough for the funeral as it is.  Be realistic.”

            “I know dear,” she said taking my hands gently in hers.  She kissed my palms and held my hands to her chest.  “You always were the practical one.  I don’t want to be a burden anymore and that’s just what I have been.  You have had to bear it alone.  Maybe if you had a brother or sister, it might not have been so difficult for you.  You have the right to live your life, free from caring for me.  My usefulness has ended and it’s time for me to accept that.  I never missed a single class at Elderly Training.  Dad missed the last one, you know.  His heart attack came just after the van let us out, right out here in front.  We had just come from the class called, Burden Free Living for Your Loved Ones.”  She reached up and placed her hand on my cheek.  “It was so good of you to handle all of the funeral arrangements for Dad.  You won’t have to do a thing for me, dear.  The last class I took, Funeral Arranging Made Simple, helped me take care of all of the details.”  She slowly, and obviously painfully, stood to her feet.  “Everything is in order.  Let’s go, dear.  I know you have to get back to work and they are waiting for me at the Termination Center.”

©Copyright 1988 by Rebecca Gurnsey