Tuesday, July 14

I like to fix things. How do you fix *ssholes?

Last night, Mrs G was back in France, 1944.

She was hiding with her 3 month old son in the woods, not because the soldiers were after HER specifically, but because that was what you did when the soldiers came to town, you made sure you stayed out of sight.

She woke up in the hospital, having been knocked unconscious when the bombs hit. No one could tell her where her son was.

The man to her left was dead, and they were trying to amputate the leg of the man to her right. Then the next bomb hit the hospital. She dropped her burning robe and leaped from the second floor.

She wandered the eight miles to her home in a daze, naked except for one slipper.

She was 21.

When she got home, her neighbors had found her infant son in the woods but had not been able to find her. He was fine.


Saturday afternoon Mrs G called the Honey and told him maybe a stroke?

By the time I made it next door, her speech was gone, except for one word, the name of that son safe at the neighbor's home so long ago. I called 911 and the last few days we've been visiting her in the hospital.

Her daughter, who lives a few hours away drives in every other day, making preparations to move into her mom's home for a while, until her mom is feeling better.

Mrs G had lost her speech but was still able to write, so she has not been completely locked into her own mind. She is still sharp as a tack. But last night her speech came flooding back to her and she told me the tale she says she has never shared with her children.

The son from that story, the story that drew huge wracking sobs from her, lives in town and still has not been to see his mother, has not called to inquire.

I would like to hunt him down, but Karma or the deity of his choosing will see that he gets his. My role in this is just to make sure that her cats get fed and that she knows that we love her. But it's hard. I'd like to do more.


Maria said...

Wow. What an incredible life she has lived. I sometimes feel as if my generation is missing something crucial in their makeup regarding stoicism and strength.

I used to work at a psych clinic that catered to wealthy women. And good lord, the wailing and gnashing of teeth that these women did over things like not getting into a club or a gardener that was lazy.

Too bad her son has no idea how lucky he is.

Jen said...

I am so sorry to hear about Mrs G. I am glad that she has you guys close and that you were there for her when she needed you. What an incredible story she shared with you.

I too believe that Karma will catch up to the son. Maybe someday he will hear that story and realize how lucky he is to have a mother like Mrs. G.