She Jumps on the Rollercoaster, Part 1

She was stretched thin.  As if caring for her three, active children wasn't excuse enough; they were preparing to put their historic home on the market.  The previous few weeks had been spent painting and staging the large, family home...originally built in the 1840's.  The "COMING SOON!" for sale sign had been in the yard for 2 weeks, to generate interest in her home.  It had worked, and they had two showings first thing the next day.  Problem was, there was just no way to make the old house look....well, new.  Her husband worked long and odd hours, often traveling.  Her 3 kids were all under the age of 8, and not exactly "helpful" in keeping the home in order.  The youngest wasn't even sleeping through the night, still waking half way through to cry her way into momma's bed.  

As dinner approached, she thought about how she hadn't planned anything for dinner.  She also thought about what a mess it would make.  She called her best "I can do that at the last minute" friend.  Thirty minutes later she, her friend and their seven kids were all enjoying Taco Bell for dinner.  Whew.  That mess avoided, she concentrated on getting everyone home, into bed, and then she'd be up most of the night finishing the last minute cleaning and staging.  She was tired, but she was also in the home stretch.  She could rest AFTER a contract was signed, confirming a good selling price on the house.  THEN it would be just the organizing, packing, preparing to move.....sigh.

Her husband's employment relocation to another state was a surprise, but a welcome opportunity for a new start.  The historic home had really turned into a money pit.  It was a remarkable place to live, but hazardous and expensive.  The last 4 years had proved that renovating the old home wasn't her dream, but her spouse's "This Old House" fantasy.  Their budget couldn't accommodate the style of restoration her husband imagined, and as a result they often disagreed over craftmanship versus mass made.  The offer to move was a relief.  For about 5 minutes.  Then the whirlwind of preparation, the stress of finding a new home, new schools, and saying good bye.

As she bustled around trying to get the kids bathed and wrestled into their night clothes, the phone rang.  She answered, to an unfamiliar voice.  It was her dad's second wife's sister.  Why on earth would this woman be calling her?  

"It's your dad.  He's......not gonna make it.   I thought you should know," the unfamiliar voice spelled out.

Her heart stopped and stood at attention.  She hadn't seen her father in several years.  He was a raging alcoholic, the last few attempts to visit him she hadn't been able to bring her children because he was so hung over, defeated, and sloppy.  Although she had known this type of call was expected, she still hadn't formulated a plan or when the call actually came.  She took a deep, long breathe in.  "Tell me more...."

He was in the hospital.  Alive, but unresponsive.  Step mom wasn't actually planning to call to inform her, but step mom's sister felt guilty and called without step mom's approval.   She gulped and then struggled to digest this news.  Her father was in a hospital several states away, but immediately she knew she had to try to get to him.   

"I'll call back once I've arranged my travel..." She told second wife's sister.  Long pause. 

The reply, "Oh?  Ok."  

She hung up the phone.  Her 8 year old looked at her cautiously, sensing that something was wrong... "Mommy?"  Without warning big drops started to form in her eyes.   A wave gripped her chest, something deeper, stronger, and piercing.  She darted into the nearby bathroom and shut, then locked the door.  

Later in her life, she would learn the term for what was happening to her:  Panic attack.  But at that point, this phenomenon was a new experience.  She drew in a huge, gasping breath.  Then it just caught in her chest when she tried to let it out to take another breath.  There wasn't a scream or a yell, but this attempt at a noise...that ended up simply being an attempt to breathe.  It was an internal ten car pile up of emotions, crying, inwardly screaming, raw shaking, and all the time just trying to breathe.  With each attempt to breathe, came an awful, loud gasp of a noise she didn't recognize as even coming from herself.  She could hear her oldest child knocking on the door, "Mommy?  Mommy?"  Oh geez, HER KIDS.  They were all right outside the door, witnessing their mother having a complete emotional breakdown.  But she couldn't function, couldn't stop it.  She fumbled for her cell phone and dialed her Taco Bell buddy.  Sputtering and with unintended dramatics, she managed to get her broken message through...and begged for help.

Around thirty minutes later, she exited the bathroom with blurred eyes, still fighting for controlled breathing.  Two friends had showed up to help out with the kids.  Her husband was called and he showed up about an hour later.  The task of putting the kids to bed done, while she worked on purchasing a plane ticket for the next day.  She would have to drive 2 hours to an airport they didn't usually fly out of, but a last minute flight was found.  She glanced at the time.  After 10pm.  Still alot of work to be done before the two showings in the morning.  So much riding on the sale of this home.  They discussed what was the minimum they could do and be ready.

Around this time there was a knock on the door.  One of her angel friends, who had heard, and knew her predicament - had come right over to help.  All three worked another 4 hours to have the house anywhere close to "ready".  Fall into bed about 2 am.  Up at 6:30am to get all the kids to school.  She had 30 minutes to get the last few things ready for the showing.  Usually consumed with the care of her 3 children, she couldn't even digest whatever trauma may have had from witnessing her mini breakdown...she was on autopilot and had to do so to function.

Dad took the kids to preschool and school.  They worked together to load 8 loads of laundry into the minivan, and headed to the laundromat...the most effective way to get them all done before she had to leave for the flight by 1:00pm.  They sat in amongst the noise of the machines, and the pungent cigarette smell that always accompanies a laundromat visit.  Plans were discussed, she'd be there 4 days.  Meanwhile two prospective buyers toured their family home.  Thankfully two offers would be made that day.  One less thing to worry about.

Later, on the 2 hour ride to the airport; it all hit her.  She was on her way, to watch her father die.  She had never seen a dead body.  She had never been with someone who was dying.  Anxiety seeped into her head.  She called a friend who had lost her own father a couple of years earlier.  

It was an odd conversation.  "What did it look like?" and "How did you feel when you were with him after he died?"  Words of wisdom were shared and accepted.  She was all of 30 years old and felt - unprepared.  She was a wife and a mother and had made many important life decisions.  But this, this experience felt like it was making her an adult.  As excruciating as this was, this was her father.  She, his only child.  And although they had been separated by distance and his alcoholism the last 3 or 4 years...she understood him.  Really understood him.  The type of understanding that doesn't come from environment or nurture, but on a genetic, ancestral level.  She had to get to him and be there...and be prepared for whatever she found.  It was like she was jumping onto a moving roller coaster, and there was no getting off now.