Before The Hospital

Mike and I met up with Paul at Mom and Dad’s before going to the hospital.  We arrived around the same time and as we walked into the house there was a creepy feeling of – a tragedy has happened here – a feeling that one should not have when entering their parent’s home.  Nothing really seemed out of place until we entered the kitchen.  Even then, it just looked like time had stopped around 9:00 A.M. that morning.  The cast iron skillet was on the back burner with two burnt pancakes in it.  A Corelle saucer was next to the stove.  Pancake batter (with flax seed instead of egg – Dad’s allergic – an important detail that Dad religiously includes when he retells the encounter) was spilled in little drips onto the counter.  Dad’s cold coffee was still at his place at the kitchen table, Mom’s was on the counter next to the stove.  Dirty dishes were piled in the sink (not so unusual, sorry Mom).

“This is creepy,” I said.  Mike put his arm around me and squeezed, Paul stood at the stove and ate the pancakes.  As if we were a forensic team on T.V., we tried to piece together the little details that Dad had passed along with the scene before us in order to recreate the events of the morning.  Some things are obvious – the flax seed pancakes, Mom’s slippers on the floor…some details are a mystery – how did the crew get the stretcher out?  Was the room noisy or relativity calm?  Does any of that really matter? 

My mom had a stroke.