GOODNIGHT, MOM
by FarAnya
Acknowledgements: It’s the one thing we all fear as children – the death of a parent. I was 24 the year my father died. He had just turned 50 and we’d been watching him fight lymphoma for ten years. He was just a regular kind of guy... but he was – and always will be in my heart – an incredible man.
This story is dedicated to him.
Disclaimer: John and Aeryn are properties of Jim Henson Productions, etc. and I’d like to thank the wonderful writers who allow me to play with their creations. I promise that my hands are clean and that I’ll be as gentle as I can and that I’ll put them away carefully when I’m through.
Author’s note: This story was inspired by an episode of ABC’s "Once and Again."
I never did tell you goodbye, Mom.
By the time I got home from school that day, you were gone. Our neighbor, David, picked me up at school and I knew... even before he had a chance to say what he didn’t want to say to me. You know... he wasn’t that much older than me, really... just a few years. But he had his driver’s license and was the only one that could come.
Dad couldn’t.
I didn’t know it until just a couple of years ago, Mom, but Dad had wanted to get me out of school in time, but you’d said, "No, let him keep a happy memory... not me on my deathbed." Back then I wished you had let him. I thought I should have said goodbye.
Now... I’m glad I didn’t.
When I got home that day, the house was full of people I hardly knew. Aunt Sue was there, I remember. So was Aunt Anne. They made sure that I got something to eat and sat with me for a while. They tried to explain; but how do you explain the death of a parent to a 14 year-old-boy?
Finally they left me and a little later on, Dad came in. He just sat beside me on my bed holding my hand and staring at the floor... the chair... the wall... anywhere rather than look at me. I didn’t know what to say to him. I knew that I had no words of comfort for myself. How on earth could I hope to comfort him?
He turned to me finally and looked at my face for a long time, tears welling up again in his swollen, red-rimmed eyes. He reached a trembling hand to touch my cheek lightly, to push my hair off my forehead.
"You look... so much like her," he had whispered.
I’ll never forget that look... or those words. I never realized until then how much Dad depended on you. Not only for the everyday things we’d always depended on you for... things like supper and clean laundry... vacation fun and help with homework... Band-Aids and good night kisses.
No, that night I discovered that Dad needed you so much more than that. You were his strength and his guide. You were the one that held up his world. And I was afraid that now I would have to be all of that for him. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
That was just about the hardest night I ever had to live through.
The next few days are a blur. I know some of my friends came by, but I don’t remember seeing them. I’m still not sure if DK was there. I never asked and he never said. My world seemed to have shrunk to the size of our living room. I spent most of the time talking to Uncle Al and Uncle Ed. They kept asking me if I wanted to go out and play. I think I must have scared them a little... you see I didn’t cry.
I couldn’t cry. Not then. Not until later. Not until - much later.
I kept thinking of things I needed to tell you… things that I could only talk about to you. I’d walk into the kitchen looking for you, forgetting you weren’t there – wouldn’t ever be there again. One day, I remember coming in the back door after school and the radio was on in the living room. I don’t remember the name of the song that was playing but it was one I had heard you singing many times. I pushed through the swinging door into the living room, calling for you. But no one was there. Dad or I had forgotten to turn the radio off that morning and it had played all day long... to an empty house.
It took a while, but Dad and I got to be almost as close as you and I had been. It was years before I ever told him how hard it was to grow up in his shadow. And even though I thought that was true – even on the day I took Farscape One out for this little jaunt – I’ve since learned that it wasn’t as big a problem as I had always thought it was.
He went on fewer and fewer long missions, so he was around to teach me to drive... to help me decide who to take to the senior prom... to get me packed up and off to college.
I think he dreaded that as much as anything. I’d made good grades so I had my pick of schools. I had thought that I should go to school somewhere close by so I could commute and live at home, but Dad insisted that I go where I could get the degree I really wanted. Until I actually pulled out of the driveway, headed for MIT, I don’t think I realized how hard it was for him to let me go. I watched him wave goodbye as I turned the corner and it was all I could do to keep going. I almost turned around.
But I did go... and Dad managed okay without either of us there to keep an eye on him. He’d call me on Sundays and we’d talk about the game the day before. He’d tell me the things he’d done during the week and I’d tell him how boring my lit class was. Once he reminded me of something you’d always told me when I rebelled against an assignment in school. He said, "Yeah, it might be boring now, but who knows, that little bit of information might save your life someday." Mom… I still haven’t needed that quotation from "Don Quixote". Maybe someday... but I am not gonna hold my breath.
I’ve missed you, Mom. There has been so much that I have wanted to share with you over the years. I wanted you to know that I graduated magna cum laud…all three times. I wanted you to meet Alex and to get to know and love her like I did. And I really needed you when she decided to take that research fellowship position at Stanford instead of joining the space program with me. I’d already bought the ring and everything.
When I did join the space program, I thought Dad was going to go into orbit without the benefit of a spacecraft! He had never pushed me in that direction, but it’s kinda hard not to be a little enthralled by space when your dad has walked on the moon. I’m glad that my decision made him as happy as it has made me.
We had never really spoken about what his job with NASA had involved. Not even when I was young and would ask about it. Oh, he’d tell me the glory stories; but nothing about the long hours of tedious testing and re-testing of every single bit of information... every new development... just to make sure it was right. Nothing about the near misses on the launchpad. I think I’m just as glad that he didn’t... it might have scared me off.
Mom, I know in my heart that you have always been there for me... during all the trials and triumphs of my life. Sometimes, even now… even here, I can feel you walking beside me. And right now, I know you’re asking, "What the heck brought this on?"
Aeryn almost died today, Mom. That’s what triggered all these memories.
I almost found out firsthand what Dad had to go through the day you died. And I thank God that I only had to endure a fraction of the hell he went through. I don’t know if I could be as strong as he was. Aeryn means the world to me, Mom.
I wish you could have met her. I think you’d like her a lot. I know that in terms of time, I haven’t really known her that long, but she’s struck a chord in me and that chord has been strengthened by experience. She is capable of so much, yet in so many ways she’s very vulnerable. She could probably field strip and reassemble an M-16 faster than most Marines… but she has no idea how beautiful she is. More than beautiful really... she’s got a beautiful heart... and soul... when she let’s you catch a glimpse of it.
Mom, I want to thank you for all the times you were there for Dad and me... even after you died. I know, I know, that sounds weird, I know. But I have felt your presence so many times that I know you’ve stayed near. I feel you most at night, just as I’m falling asleep, and I know that you’re making your rounds… just checking that the blanket is tucked in and taking the book from my hands. I feel safe... just like I did when I was a kid. And I appreciate that… here... more than I could ever tell you.
Hey Mom, could you do me a favor? Could you add Aeryn to your rounds? She never knew her mother or father… just their names, their ranks and units. She didn’t stand a snowball’s chance to learn about love... to feel safe. I don’t think the PeaceKeeper Wee Care Academy was big on safe.
So if you could, just check on Aeryn every now and then. She could use the extra attention. And I have had such loving parents that I’d like to share mine with her.
Well, Aeryn is stirring... I’d better check her bandages.
Goodnight, Mom. I miss you.
THE END