By Suzanne Lavender So, we drove past this turtle. And I saw it from the driver's side window, fairly good sized, maybe 10” or so across and when I looked down, it looked up. And it was cracked. Wide open. Right in the middle. And in that split second of looking down, I saw that there were internal organs exposed. And ants and flies. But that turtle swiveled its head and looked up at me. I gulped and drove. I was in Florida. I was with my brother. We'd come down to my mother's house to see her. She was easier to take when there were more of us there. I had taken advantage of his visits before—hey! Maybe I can come down and see you as well as Mom....that would be great! This time, however, we were coincidentally on the heels of her just returning from the hospital. She'd been home about 1 day when we both arrived. We didn't know it then, but...well. Maybe we did. Definitely the beginning of the end. I remember my brother saying something similar one night while we drank and mom slept.
Her hospital stay was because her leg was hurting, and it turned out that there was not a lot of circulation getting into that leg. An earlier stent had gotten clogged. A surgery had been performed to fix that clog. But, she was confused and having trouble getting around. Even around the house. Looking back, I'm not sure she even knew why she'd been in the hospital...but was happy to be home and happy to see us. We went with her husband and her at her insistence to their small camper they had bought and parked near the intra-coastal waterways. We were depressed, a bit, to find out that this campsite was more than 80 miles from the house. Her husband couldn't drive, due to macular degeneration, and so all driving duties were for her. Being in her mid 80's...I think we both thought this was not the best idea ever incubated. At the site, she couldn't walk down to the pier with us. She didn't come with us to get the shrimp bait for fishing. She didn't fish with us, or see the dolphins or the obscured and barely surfacing manatee. She stayed back in the camper, not even in the bed, at the table with her head down. Insisting she was fine; we should go. She just needed some water and it's fine. Southern drawl: I'm fiiine....y'all go on. We did. We saw the dolphins. The just under the surface manatee. She told us that's what we'd see. I caught fish with the shrimp. The shrimp we got from the old black guy---who recognized an even older white guy in her husband, and waved his money away...no charge...no charge..just take 'em. This truce between the old black guy in Florida and this old white guy from Alabama...enemies at some time, surely, but not now. Here's some shrimps...go fish. Have fun. Life's short. We went back...we checked on Mom...she's fiiiine....I'm gooood. Why not get in bed? No...I'm ok here. Want me to stay? No...go on---I'm just tiiired. Done. Gone fishin'. Beautiful dolphins, manatees, waves, big catfish. We don't keep anything. I don't like fish, and who's going to cook it anyway? At one point my brother has to cut the catfish's mouth to get out the hook. The shrimp make me squeamish, having to hook them on so hard they won't fall off (they did anyway), and then catching fish and feeling like I'm causing pain for no reason. Getting old. Never felt that way at 12, alone, fishing my heart out, worms palpitating in pain as I hooked them. So what? Now, I felt the so what in spades. Ow. Sorry. But I didn't stop. Thought about Mom...is she ok? Should we check on her? We decided she was fine. And yes, she was. We got back and there was insistence on her part to take care of their lot rent. I have to go and look up Marleen. Where's Marleen? Is she at the office? I've got to pay this rent. Where's my checkbook? Is this your's or mine? I'll be back... Mom—I'll go with you—-where are you going? It's ok...he's going with me. I'm fiiine. We're just going across the way to the office. Ok—I walked across the way to the office. Saw them in. Left them to chat with Marleen. Time went by. Went back, they were still chatting. Ok. They paid their rent. Time to go. And time passes as it does. Time to realize, this is the beginning of the end. This is not going to get any better. It's all downhill from here. And time to realize---where's the other brother? Why is it just me and him? How do we do this? Our father died suddenly, terribly, awfully, horribly and quickly. Boom. Gone. Now ...what? How do we do this other part? He had whisked her away in the early 90's across the country. To Florida....because why? Because he could get a good deal. A house on a golf course. May as well have been heaven to them. The rest of their family though, the kids, the grandkids...no where near Florida. Time spent to get there for Christmas, etc. Or for them to come waaaay back west. Done. But then. She's alone. Hard to understand at this point, why he would do that. Of course he didn't know. And well. We're here to pick up the broken pieces that are being spewed. And they are. Being spewed. I've watched this on TV and in movies. This shit happens. And then you realized..oh...wait...this is not a made for TV movie with Eileen Brennan or Henry Fonda...this is Mom. And she's slipping. And her husband, a WWII vet with failing eyesight should not be her caregiver. Should not in any scenario be having to care for an 84 year old woman. No matter how much he wants to. No matter how much the valor and nobility in him wants to. Should. Not. It breaks our hearts to watch our mother order him around....NO! I said THERE!!! Not THERE!....C'mon!!! Suddenly the gentile southern woman is full of bile. Of course she is....she is losing control. Of herself. Of her life. Of, well, everything. And he...being the gentile southern gentleman, will continue to try. For a little while...until, he realizes for himself-he can't do this anymore. But that's not where we are right now. My brother and I share 2 nights drinking. Drinking and trying to make sense of what's now the reality. We can and will deal with this. Wine and whiskey will probably help we think. One day my brother sleeps til 1:30. I'm jealous and also think that the drinking which leads to depression in both of us is kicking in. Stay strong, my brother, I promise I cannot do this thing without you. She seems happy mostly, then angry when she thinks that we have anything slightly critical to say. She's fiiiine! She can't walk through the not so big house without sitting down, but that's ok. She's ok. She's goooooooood. Her husband watches his Fox news as loud as the volume will go, and of course, can't really hear her when she makes her demands. We cringe. This can't be how life SHOULD be at this age. Help. Where's dad? Where's the other brother? Why are we having to deal with this dragon? And dragon it is, that must be slayed. Fire breathing at that—there's no quarter given when she's feeling criticized or put upon. And her husband, not us, is mostly the target. But hey! We're here too, so...why not? My brother and I sneak away to the store. We must buy wine. If not wine, then brandy or whatever might help numb this process. Generally not allowed to get away without a third degree....we make it out! And no phone call while away to make sure we're ok! And then on the drive home, the turtle. I'm so excited initially to see this big turtle right by the side of the road. Not too far from Mom's. I say...wow was that a turtle? I do a u-turn and go back to check. My brother can't see it from the passenger side. So excited I look down and see. The decimated turtle. Alive. Unaware of its injury. Mouth gaping looking up at me and oh my god he's split in half. Split in half and still alive. My reaction includes a very cold and numb feeling throughout my body. And my brother saying nothing over there....talking about I don't know... I finally find my voice and say what you already know. That this turtle was split in half. And he says well..he's probably in shock and not long for this world. And my response is immediately—no he looked up at me. He looked me in the eye. And my brother says, oh, why did you have to tell me that. We go back. We go inside the house. I can't stop my thoughts. I can't stop thinking about that turtle. And its insides. And its eyes, and gaping mouth and ants and flies. Next to a road where the speed limit is 20. Where there's no reason that this creature, who could be 100 years old has obviously been run over and crushed. And how long has it been there? How many people drove by and repulsed didn't stop...didn't try to put it out of what can only be misery? And who are these people? The ones that didn't stop? The ones that ran over a turtle in the middle of a 20 mph road? My only possible solution to this is that the people who didn't stop...or at best stopped too late were too old to see what they'd done. Were these the same people that moved the turtle to the side of the road? To the grassy middle ground between the boulevard? Or did the turtle drag itself, 1 half separated from the other across the rest of the road and into that grass. And wait. And feel...what? Like a fish with a hook so deep in that someone has to cut through its jaw to get it out? Was it waiting all this time? Had it lost all feeling? Did it think that this was an ok way to live the rest of its life? Ants and flies feeding on its flesh? People gawking and doing nothing? Within 5 minutes of getting home, I said to my brother, I have to go back. I don't know what to do, but I have to go back. I can't stop thinking of it...and he said he'd go. I was unsure to drag him with me. After all, he hadn't even seen the turtle at this point. And we told mom we were leaving...and again, there were no questions. Not then and not ever. We found an implement...kind of a hoe. We went back. My brother was determined he knew what must be done. I looked away and exhaled heavily when he brought the hoe down. But, well, turtles have shells, and he withdrew his head. There was no strike. My brother tried again and by the 3rd try I was regretting everything, ever. Seeing the turtle, telling him about it, coming back to it....everything. But we realized that turtle was not going to let us kill it. It's instinct was too strong. I kept thinking that this creature could be my age or older....and then my brother looked at me and said we're going to need to do something different here. There was a pond nearby. We knew what we were going to do. He picked it up on the end of the hoe, it hung half off of both ends. Ants everywhere. I want to think we did the right thing. When we got to the pond, there was a moment of heft, and then, a splash. It sank right away...there were other creatures around...bubbles from other turtles, fish flitting away looking vaguely annoyed...and that was the funeral for this turtle. This turtle that's been around for god knows how long and is now so injured and beat up that the best thing for it is to be buried by randomness. Truthfully...I could go back now and maybe there it'd be by the side of the road again. But this is how things were left between us at the time. There were tears in my eyes. And maybe my brother's too. We didn't talk about it at all on the way back, or once home. And mom never asked where we were. And now, some time has passed. And we are watching our mother's mind as it decimates. By strangers, doctors, who don't have time to stop and make sure that they are not driving right over her. Watching while her husband frantically turns to us because he can no longer handle the demands. And we don't blame him. Not at all. These demands are too much to be met. They are impossible to meet. There's too much injury there. There's too many tiny creatures, real or imagined, eating at my mother. She's now at the side of the road, with her head down on the table in the camper...go on...I'm fiiine...I'll just hang out over here...ignore me. I'm glorious, I have so much to tell. But I'm broken, and not fixable. I will look at you with my gaping mouth and I will tell you I'm fine. But the ants will tell you a different story.
7 Comments
Scott Bodenheimer
10/29/2022 03:18:37 pm
There but for the Grace of….thank you for this story Suzanne.
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Layne Jackson
10/30/2022 10:36:31 am
This and situations like this are so hard. Thank you for sharing your story of such a vulnerable to me.
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Suzanne
11/27/2022 10:42:36 am
Thanks Layne
Suzanne
11/27/2022 10:43:22 am
Thanks for reading!
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Kellie Hardy
10/30/2022 05:25:36 pm
How vivid and poignant.
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Suzanne
11/27/2022 10:44:03 am
Thanks for reading
Reply
11/1/2022 10:07:15 am
So agonizing, but beautiful. A multitude of emotions and feelings that I can’t properly describe. I am blown away by this.
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