On the day of the funeral I had to arrive early as a pallbearer to help get the sealed coffin into the church. The 6 men in black suits slid the box out of the Hurst and then started struggling up the few steps up to the entrance. The black iron railings were to narrow and we couldn’t fit through. We had to back it down and then go up the wheel chair ramp instead. A gurney helped when we got to the church door which we also would not have fit through. I sat in the second pew alone. My brother Wayne sat in the the pew in front of me with his wife Jennifer and two of his three boys. His wife put her arm around him. The organist began playing “Amazing Grace” and I started to well up. The organ music went on and on. A cousin of mom’s sitting behind me stated humming and singing the songs to herself and I found myself getting annoyed. I kept my anger in check focusing my attention on the Hawaiian flowers on top of the casket. A large leaf had been crushed inside the coffin lid when it was closed. I wanted to go up and free it but I sat numbly.
There was a short sermon which I didn’t really notice, and several hymns requiring standing and then sitting again. I went through the motions exhausted. Finally the pastor started talking about the last time he had visited Ruth in Ellen Memorial Health Care Center. He had dropped his bible as he got out of his car and he couldn’t find it. When he got to mom’s room he found she had her own bible on the night stand beside her. It’s cover was worn and the pages tattered from so much use. When he opened it he found many passages that she loved were already highlighted. She was on morphine and not able to talk and he read to her for the longest time. When he recited the lords prayed she raised her hand up to him. He held her hand through the prayer and she smiled. She was devout and a firm believer right up to her last breath.
The pastor then asked if anyone would like to get up and say a few words. Loretta Ernst, Ruth’s step daughter from her last marriage to Ken Krause got up. She began to talk about how happy her dad was when he and Ruth were dating back in 1995. She called her dad about something and he said he couldn’t talk long since he was expecting a call from “Ruthy.” She kept the conversation short and when she hung up the phone she realized she had forgotten to tell him something. She called him right back. He answered in a sultry voice she had never heard before saying, “Hello blue eyes.” She said, “Dad my eyes are brown.” Everyone in the church laughed. I laughed and began to cry. I have only net Loretta two times in my life and here she was showing me a side of my mom I had never seen.
Walter got up and said, “Wow this is harder than I thought.” He started to tear up. “I knew Ruth for 44 years and to me she was and would always be mom. She was there when my mom died. Ruth and I would sometimes argue about religion. She would say, “You say your a christian but you’re not living up to it.” In the end I would have to admit she was right.” He said, “For putting up with me, she deserved sainthood.” Then he pointed out her shrill high pitched and earth shattering way that she had of sneezing. When she sneezed birds would take flight and deer would turn and bolt into the woods. Once again everyone laughed.
After the service when we had maneuvered the casket back into the Hurst, the director shook my hand firmly and said, “I’d like to meet you again sometime, well not under these circumstances mind you…Uhm you know what I mean.”
That evening around the dinner table after drinking many cups of wine, all the children talked about the stupid things they had done in their youth. I found out things about my older brothers and sisters I had never known before. Walter arranged for a final farewell celebration by setting off large fireworks mortars in Ruth’s honor down near the pond. There were three mortar tubes and they kept trying to set up three blasts at once. The trouble was that there were only two lighters that Walter had picked up at the dollar store. Ben instructed me to wait three seconds after he lit his mortar fuse. I waited but then could not get the fuse to light. The darn lighter wouldn’t stay lit. I was still leaning towards the tube when the Ben’s mortar blast sent me jumping back. The hot flash blinded me for a second and the noise caused my ears to ring. I never did light the darn fuse, and I handed the lighter off to one of the kids. The men behaved like kids and the kids tried to act like men. I just wanted to make sure I had both my hands when all was said and done. Some of the fireworks circular blasts were so close to the ground that the sparks would come withing inches of our faces and many sparks remained glowing embers on the ground. With each new mortar blast we would all shout out, “OOOOh Ahhhh, that was a pretty one.” Cindy who is from California was particularly excited. Fireworks are banned out there. These sudden bursts of light and noise lighting up the cold starry sky were the perfect way to celebrate life’s short journey.
The Wake
As I sketched the Hessling Funeral home, groups of high school kids came running down the slanted uphill driveway. I was leaning back against a parking meter and twice I had to sit up so people could shove coins in the slot. A pickup truck pulled into the parking lot and the man pulled out a lawn mower and started mowing the lawn.
The wake was an eternally long period of sitting and waiting from 2 to 4 and then 7 to 9 PM. Ruth’s body was lying in a solid and sturdy looking casket. A small table toward the foot of the casket has a picture of a neatly trimmed Christ. My sister Carol found a statue of Betty Boop with a bright red boa to put at the table at the head of the casket. Ruth was a fan of Betty Boop and had a collection of them. At breakfast in her home I put in a Betty Boop animated short and watched her sinuous cycled animation.
My sister Carol had been put in charge of making sure I did not do a drawing of Ruth in her casket. She said, “I know you love drawing, but… no drawing the coffin, I’d think you’d freak everybody out.” Juanita and Gail also also kept a close eye on me. I knew Ruth would not want me to do such a drawing but being told it was forbidden made it tempting. Had I tried, I would have been kicked out of my own mothers funeral. Gail told me that if I sketched mom she would haunt me for eternity. Ruth was always concerned that she only be photographed or drawn when she looked her best. The mortician had done a good job of removing any hint of wrinkles and pain from moms face. She wore one of the leis and two others were dangling from the edges of the casket lid. Large red Victorian floor lamps lit the front of the room with a warm red glow. There were large flower arrangements from the children and grand children and people in town.
I once did a drawing of my father, Art, when he had Leukemia. Ruth found the drawing and ripped it out of my sketchbook and destroyed it. I later did more drawings of my father but all of them were from memory, done in the waiting room.
Honesdale Pennsylvania is a small town and everyone knows each other. Gail and Juanita live in Honesdale and friends and co-workers kept coming in and hugging them and offering condolences. I sat lined up against the wall with the rest of the 6 Thorspecken children and we spoke amongst ourselves never being embraced by the people from town. I realized it is hard to cry without touch. My family sat around and joked and told stories to pass the time. I couldn’t take all the banter. It was all just so much noise. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
I finally went to a back parlor of the funeral home and started sketching. I made sure to place a relative strategically to block any view of the casket. Old photos of Ruth were on display and a digital frame displayed photos of her grandchildren. Kyle and Jack, two of my nephews, watched my every move as I did the sketch. Kyle is a budding artist himself, and I was proud when he showed up to the second half of the wake with his own sketchbook tucked under his arm. My brother in law Walter kept borrowing my sketchbook to show to his friends. I met the owner of a downtown gallery and she was one person who held my hand for the longest time when she greeted me. I found myself talking excitedly about art for a while before, out of the corner of my eye, I again caught the image of mom lying in the front of the room alone and ignored. I did stand in front of the casket for a long time memorizing her features and the gentle turn of her thin wrists with her fingers folded calmly on her belly. This lifeless image is however not one I want to hold onto and I will never commit it to paper.
1000 Miles of Silence
I drove straight through. As I write this I am seated in the Himilayan Institute in downtown Honesdale, Pennsylvania. The stereo is playing gentle Indian music with the distinctive sounds of a sitar and drums. A singer chants ohmmmm. The Institute’s coffee bar is the only place in town with a WiFi connection. Yesterday I left Orlando at 9AM and I drove into my step-mom’s driveway at 4AM . The last time I drove this route I had my stereo blasting the whole trip. I let the music sway my mood up and down the whole way. This time I drove in silence. My spirit needed the rest. I stared straight ahead a the vanishing point at the end of the infinite road ahead of me. The road soared beneath my feet. My sketchbook sat on the passenger seat as my co-pilot. I fueled myself with peanut butter cookies and Mountain Dew. Once my right eye teared up, probably from eye strain. I put on my sunglasses but soon took them off so I could see the vibrant spring colors unfiltered.
By the time I got to Pennsylvania, it was dark and many of the big rigs were parked on the exit ramps. I got lost several times, once in Baltimore and once on the hilly winding side roads around Harrisburg. when I finally found my way back to the main highway, I was exhausted. Driving past Scranton at three in the morning, my spirit soared. The highway hugged the side of a mountain and in the pitch black, I felt like I was flying. The lights of Scranton could be seen stretching out to the horizon and I was flying above them at eighty miles an hour. I imagined myself flying the Spirit of Saint Lewis safely across the Atlantic. My darn right eye is watering up again as I write this. I can still write with one eye open.
On the final miles driving through the mountainous back roads, I started to see flashes of darkness that would dart in front of my truck. I knew there were plenty of deer up here, so I would pull my foot off of the accelerator. My eyes were playing tricks on me. The dark flashes were phantoms, figments of my overactive imagination and tired retinas. When I rolled into my step-mom’s empty driveway, I was ready to sleep sitting up. I opened the front door and the first thing I saw in the empty house, was a plaque that said, “Having a friend is a comfort that can never be taken away. ” I have no idea what friend might have given Ruth this plaque or even if she is alive. I dropped onto the couch and fell asleep thinking nothing lasts.
The next morning I went outside to sketch Ruth’s former home. Huge bumble bees crawled into the light purple blooms of the Rhododendrons near the porch. The light was radiant and bright. As I sketched, a Fed Ex truck pulled in the driveway. when the driver pulled out a package and started walking to the front door, I got up, thinking I might have to sign for it. My foot was asleep so I stood stamping, trying to bring it back to life. The driver left before I was able to walk. I realized that he hadn’t even noticed I was there. I took the package to my step-sister Juanita, who lived next door. She opened it up and discovered two beautiful Hawaiian leis. My father and Ruth visited the islands many times. Ruth will be wearing these leis for her wake. Juanita asked me to bring the flowers to the funeral home downtown. As I drove I kept getting calls from my step-sister, Gail, since she was concerned that no one was there, and she didn’t want me to leave the flowers at the door. Mr Hessling greeted me at the side door and crushed my hand with his firm handshake. Gail wanted to talk to him, so I handed him my cell phone. He started joking with her saying that he had given the flowers to his wife for secretary’s day. He joked with me as well but I felt a bit uncomfortable since Ruth’s body was probably lying in the next room.
Adventures in Baby Sitting
I kept my first visit with Ruth short since I knew my sister, Carol, was waiting downstairs to come up. When I found myself alone with her two very energetic kids, ten and eight years old, I asked them if they would pose for a portrait. They agreed and then fought each other as they climbed into the same chair. They posed for maybe five minutes. Anna tried to keep a wide-mouthed smile on her face the whole time. She soon lost patience and decided she wanted to paint as well. I let her use my palette and one of my brushes and soon all three of us were busy painting. I continued to work on my painting as they worked. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of their eyes or the gentle curl of their hair and I would add it. Kristen did a silly drawing of me with an oval head and a big hooked nose.
Perhaps an hour later, Carol came back down thinking I would be at my wits’ end. Anna said, “Don’t worry mom, we are having fun. Why don’t you go back up?” Babysitting my nieces turned out to be quite fun, perhaps parenting isn’t the distracting challenge I always thought it would be.
The next day I watched my nieces at my stepmom’s place while Carol drove to the hospital to visit mom a second time. Once again, they took to painting like fish to water. I sketched Anna as she worked on a painting of Reeses, the family dog. She also did a painting of me, and from her sketch, I am one scary looking uncle.
We later decided to go for a hike around the small frozen lake my stepmom’s house is next to. I devised a way to keep Kristen’s sneakers from getting wet using grocery bags and two bungee cords from the back of my truck. The bungee chords acted as suspenders for the bags. I think she got a kick out of wearing them. The kids ran the whole time through the three inches of snow. Anna kept falling every time she ran. I kept warning her to slow down, but she just kept falling. I finally gave up telling her, since she never seemed to get hurt, and just got back up and started running again. Anna then did the one thing Carol had warned me not to let her so, she ran out onto the frozen lake. My heart stopped. I had no idea how thick the ice was, and it was warm out, with small puddles of slush all around her. I screamed for her to stop and walk right back the way she had gone out. I couldn’t go out after her since we might both crash through. She just giggled willfully, but then I told her we would have to all go back in the house if she didn’t get off the ice. I also told her that if the ice broke, I might not be able to get her out before she froze to death. She finally came back to the shore.
I decided we could continue the hike, but when we came to a small frozen stream that fed the lake, Anna once again stomped out onto the ice. Just as I caught up to her, and started to demand that she get off, her foot crashed through and her leg got wet up to her mid-calf. I think this lesson might stay with her. This time we all went straight back to the house, where I had Anna change out of her wet pants and we placed them near a radiator to dry off. Our walk ended with a rousing snowball fight. I don’t think I won since it was always two against one. I also think I will leave parenting to parents.
Visiting Ruth
When I arrived in Honesdale. Pennsylvania, my younger sister, Carol, texted me directions until I arrived at my mother’s home. Carol and her two children, Kristin and Anna, had been waiting all day for my arrival. They all had cabin fever. Since it took me much longer than expected to get up north, we all immediately piled into Carol’s SUV and headed to the Honesdale Hospital where Ruth was in the intensive care recovery ward. I went up first while Carol watched her kids in the waiting area downstairs.
Ruth was surprised to see me, and I was shocked to see how frail she looked. Her spirits were down, so we weren’t demonstratively affectionate. We spoke for some time about her health and then I told her about life in Orlando. She has never seen my blog. She has never even owned a computer. Her health had deteriorated since the last time I saw her several years ago. Her breast cancer had spread and she had undergone intensive chemo therapy to try and stop the spread of the disease. Most family members feel that the chemotherapy was the cause of so many of her new symptoms. Ruth’s Oncologist, Dr. Scholi, seemed to feel that Ruth was something of a miracle in that she should have died three years ago, but she responded so well to the chemotherapy at the time that she got three more years of quality living. The doctor said, “Her present condition is the result of the combination of her cancer, her age, and the chemotherapy. It’s all caught up to her and has taken a pretty heavy toll.” On the afternoon of my second visit, a doctor came in and told my stepmom that she was being discharged from the hospital. Her next stop would be Ellen Memorial Health Care Center.
Physical Therapy
When I got an e-mail from my sister, Juanita, saying that my stepmothers cancer had gotten to the point where she could no longer walk, I immediately decided I would have to take a trip to Honesdale, Pennsylvania to see for myself how Ruth was doing. I jumped in my truck and started driving north. I thought I could do the drive in one day, but with construction and traffic, it took me two days. The drive itself was an emotional roller coaster. When I first started driving over rolling hills, I felt exhilaration. One song played on the radio again and again, “Against the Wind.” This song ran through my head many years ago when I rode a bicycle across the country. Then, I felt like the wind was always literally blowing against me as I struggled to climb rolling mountains. Now, I was older, once again wandering the open roads of a cold indifferent world. Snow started to appear on the roadside.
The first day’s drive brought me as far north as Virginia. Exhausted, I spent the night at a Holiday Inn. When I resumed the drive the next morning, I was driving past vast fields blanketed in snow. At times, I felt small. At other times, expansive and elated. The radio played, “I say miracles just happen, silent prayers get answered.” I felt hope and peace for once, surrendering and accepting what I was driving to face. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of dark tree trunks rising up out of the pure white snow. The radio blared, “Live like we’re dying!” I vowed not to waste a minute of the time I spent in Honesdale Pennsylvania. I would be visiting family I hadn’t seen in years. I had been out of touch with my stepmom for years. I planned to change that.
My little sister, Carol, guided me the final miles with a series of text messages. As soon as I arrived, at my step mothers house, we headed down to the hospital to see Ruth. Carol had her two daughters, Kristin and Anna, and hospital rules forbid them to go upstairs. I agreed to watch my nieces while Carol visited and then we traded off. I found Ruth in the physical therapy room. A young tan nurse’s aid had Ruth lift a two pound weight over her head for three repetitions of twelve. My stepmom has always been resistant to the idea of being sketched, so I started just drawing all the other patients working out. Some would squeeze medicine balls between their legs, while others would pedal a stationary bike set up for wheelchair patients. My stepmom did good with all her arm exercises, but when she was asked to stand, she collapsed. Chemotherapy had sapped all her energy. She was tired of being treated like a child and when we got back to her room, I joked with her about the experience in the cynical way that she was used to. It was good to see her laugh.