The Revolving Door

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“Mommy, can we try it?” my son asked excitedly.

I stopped and looked at my two young sons, so excited to see a giant revolving door at the hospital entrance where my Mom lie, just a few floors up, in what I know now were her last days. My first thought was, “No. Keep moving, just go through the other door and hurry up! We’re already fifteen minutes later than I told Mama we’d be there.”

I always felt this pressure to hurry and get to Mama when I wasn’t with her. I simultaneously wanted to be attached to her by the hip, and as far away from her as humanly possible. If I was attached to her, there would be so many less words exchanged, and she wouldn’t ask, “Where ya been?” because she would be with me and I wouldn’t have to rehash all the minutia about the grocery store, or mopping up another spill.

But when I was far away from her, I had brief moments of peace. Not worried about her or what she might possibly need. This peace was fleeting because inevitably I’d remember I needed to tell her something, or ask her a question that only she’d know the answer to.

I was conflicted – hurry up? Or stop for a minute and allow my kids some fun? I said, “Sure, buds!”

They screamed and commenced to give that door the time of it’s life. They ran around a few times and then snuck in and out of the partitions. They stood still, and caused the door to stop and they squealed with laughter! They breathed on the glass, put their hands all over it, and decimated it with their small fingerprints.

I smiled as we had some joy during such a sad time. When we finally entered the hospital, my smile dropped when I heard a voice say, “That’s not a toy.” I looked up and saw an old man, a volunteer at the front desk in his stupid volunteer smock with his stupid name tag.

His comment shook me and I snapped. I surprised myself when I said loudly, “I know it’s not a toy. They are just little boys. They don’t see something like this every day.”

He kind of glared at me and went back to whatever dumb volunteer duties he was doing. I was so mad at this man! Didn’t he know how stressed out I was? Didn’t he know I had to bribe my kids to come with me to the hospital? Didn’t he know I hadn’t cooked supper yet? Didn’t he know there was wet laundry in the washing machine, probably mildewing because I kept forgetting to put it in the dryer? Didn’t he know that one kid had football practice and the other had soccer soon? Didn’t he know my Mama was gravely ill? Where was his compassion? Maybe he shouldn’t volunteer at the hospital but at the JAIL, where he could be a jerk!

My emotions were coming out sideways, as they often do, and this old man was a convenient target.

I grabbed the boys, each by the hand, and moved to the security guard to check in and then to the elevator to see Mom. I was in tears. I tried to compose myself on the way up, to keep the boys’ spirits up and Mama’s too. The first thing she said was, “What took you so long?”

I almost exploded, but then I caught the look on Mama’s face and saw a half-smile and a glimmer in her eye. She was taking a little jab at me. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it and smiled. She knew. And my irritation went away from me, swept away as if it was in the partition of that revolving door turning, bringing love in as it moved anger out.

That’s what a mama can do. As she’d done more times in my life than I can recall. She’d brought love and understanding to me. Mama understood so much more than I realized. She turned her attention to the boys, and they told the tale of spinning and playing in the door, talking about how dizzy they were. I watched as Mama listened as if this was the best story she’d ever heard.

That door is so much like the relationship between Mama and me. Always moving, around and around, but anchored with an immovable center that allowed for all that swirling of life. And that center is her love for me, and my love for her.

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Dede Kennedy
Dede Kennedy is part of a dying breed ... a native of Mt. Pleasant. She is happily married to her husband Sean and the mother of two gorgeous sons ages 8 and 11. When not trying to keep her boys out of harm's way, Dede works at a popular restaurant on Sullivans Island. She is a Christian and an active member of her church. Dede can be found making corndogs and serving up Kool-Aid for the neighborhood kids who hang out at her home (the one with all the bicycles in the yard). Dede is a blogger and a two-time cast member of the national "Listen to Your Mother" show. Dede has dabbled in stand-up comedy and is writing a fiction book.

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