“Grandma!” Sabrina’s voice echoed from the hall. Lillian was ready to meet her family that Sunday morning, and say good-bye. Allison, her husband Drew, and the girls were ready to depart.
Soon everyone entered the room, and Lillian found herself surrounded by what she thought was the most loving family an elderly woman like her could have had. She cherished every second they had devoted to her.
Lillian observed their excitement and cheerfulness, and she felt grateful for what she was contemplating. There was no space for sadness, even if they were leaving. She knew that phone calls, letter and emails would be coming her way every day. And she was confident that everyone would gather again during Christmas time, by then, at the ranch.
God is good, Lillian thought.
No need to tell stories, not now, not this day. Maybe at Christmas. By then, just like a pandora box, the Havana box would open its contents to a handful of zestful stories. Tales from Grandpa Leo and his Cuban skies.
Lillian scanned the room, looking at pictures and other decorative items her family had brought in. It was as if pieces of her home had been finely transplanted in her new cozy and luxurious room.
The nursing home no longer felt a strange place. Lillian had actually made some new friends, and had bonded with some of her caregivers and therapists. She knew she would return to her ranch sometime in the near future, but in the meantime, she had started to enjoy being at the facility.
Now she was ready to meet with her family. The last day Allison and the girls would be with her. After lunch, they would be taking off, going back to their home, and resume their own lives. Lillian knew she would miss her daughter and granddaughters very much, but right now, she had no time to dwell with the thought of the good-bye. Right now, she had another priority: to tell them about secrets of their family’s past, some of the stories she had reserved for many years.
“Grandma!” Sabrina’s voice was heard before her innocent face beamed at the entrance of the room.
They are here! Lillian thought, nervously. She quickly regained her composure, positioning herself in her recliner until she felt comfortable.
Now, Allison, Scott, Drew and Clara had also entered the room. Everyone greeted and hugged Lillian. She felt stronger with each hug and kiss.
“I need everyone to sit down... I have some things to tell you,” Lillian commanded, in a polite but serious tone. Everyone’s eyebrows rose, perplexed. The room turned silent.
“I’ve loved every minute you all have spent with me since I had the stroke. Thank you all for your patience and encouragement. And thank you Sabrina and Clara for writing and telling me stories. They meant the world to me. You helped me in my recovery, more than you can imagine. Now I feel I need to return your kindness by telling you some of family stories that may have slightly surfaced during this time, and which may have caused some confusion.”
Lillian cleared her throat. She reached for her water glass on her bedside table, and took a quick sip. She took a deep breath and felt ready to share some of her past, some of what was part of her younger days.
“First of all, you may know that I was raised by my grandparents. My grandfather, Leonardo, or "Leo" as he liked to be called, was Cuban, and migrated to our country in his twenties. He and my grandma Dorothy had a happy marriage, but their daughter, my mother Olivia, became very depressed when my father died in a car accident when I was very young. My mother was never the same, and had to be in and out of a psychiatric hospital due to her Major Depression and suicidal attempts. That’s the reason I was raised by my grandparents. They actually adopted me, so that I could have some legal benefits and because they felt I was the daughter they’d ‘lost.’
“My Grandpa Leo kept some communications with relatives in Cuba and sometimes he received postcards and pictures that he kept in a little wooden box, which he engraved himself with the word Havana on the side. He was born in Havana, and treasured the memories of his childhood on the beach and in downtown. I had kept the wooden box with me since he passed away. I hope I can share with you those pictures and postcards when I get back home, and next time you all come to spend some time with me. Maybe for Christmas.”
“Yes, Grandma!” Sabrina exclaimed. “I want to see the box.”
“You will, another day,” Lillian said, and smiled. “I’m not finished. I have something else to tell you.” Lillian took another sip of water.
“Grandpa Leo was fond of Mockingbirds. He thought they were special birds, even if he didn’t know why. When Grandpa died, I was devastated, and cried for a long time. Until one day when I went for a walk on a trail, a Mockingbird flew and passed me, then it wouldn’t go away, until I thought of Grandpa. Then the bird flew fast and quickly disappeared. I thought that to honor Grandpa’s memory, I wanted to get a tattoo of a Mockingbird. I did it. I got the tattoo on my hip, so it wouldn’t be exposed to others. It was my own journey, my own way to deal with my grief. My own secret.”
Lillian felt like a load had been lifted off her shoulders. She rested her head back on the the recliner, and closed her eyes. Peacefulness embraced her. The room remained silent.
Lillian wondered why no one had said anything by now. She abruptly opened her eyes. The room was dark. She shook her head and soon she realized she had fallen asleep during her prayer. Goodness gracious!
The “therapeutic outing” was over. Lillian returned to her “temporary” home. She thought of the marvelous time she had had with her family. But now she felt exhausted. She needed to rest.
Lillian felt blessed with having such a sweet family. They all hugged her and expressed their love. They would return the next day for their last visit, and she was already looking forward to tomorrow.
As Lillian lay on her recliner, reflecting and drinking fresh water, she recalled Clara’s note. Lillian retrieved it from her dress pocket, and unfolded it.
Grandma,
I was looking around in the basement, and I was curious about your old wooden box on the shelf. I couldn’t resist the temptation and opened it. Grandma, I’m so sorry I looked at your personal stuff.
Please, Grandma, forgive me for breaking into your private box. I wish I could ask for forgiveness looking at you, but I don’t have the courage. Please, don’t get mad at me, and don’t tell my Mom, she will be really upset.
Grandma, please, I promise I won’t ever do this again.
I love you,
Clara
Lillian’s eyes welled with tears. Melancholy filled her heart.
Oh, Clara, I’m not mad at you sweetheart! Lillian thought, and sighed.
Lillian knew it was time to plan another family gathering. Not in a restaurant, but maybe in her room in the nursing home, or at the ranch.
Lillian recalled the famous quote by Maya Angelou, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." She felt restless. Maybe it was time to ask for one of her Xanax she took PRN .
But Lillian changed her mind. She didn’t need pills; she need inner peace. Lillian closed her eyes, and said a silent prayer, Lord, bless me with courage and fluent words to tell my family some of the untold stories I have kept to myself.
The last couple of days in Springfield, and at Grandma’s ranch. Clara felt the urge to vent her guilty feelings. She reached for a notepad and a pencil.
§§§§§§§§§§
Lillian was excited. That would be her first day going out since she had come to the nursing home. She was glad to see that her medical condition had continued to improve, and now she was allowed to go on a "therapeutic outing." After the nurse had made some recommendations, Lillian was ready to have lunch with her family at a local restaurant. She would be gone for about two hours. A feeling of happiness embraced her–Pure joy filled her soul.
Lillian and her children and granddaughters met at an Italian restaurant. The smell of pasta and creamy sauces filled the air.
“Nice place,” Lillian commented, scrutinizing the Tuscan paintings gracing the walls.
While waiting for the food order, Allison and Scott were occupied in a conversation about chores to be completed in the ranch once Allison and the girls leave for Oklahoma. The next day they would be back home.
Clara and Sabrina sat at Lillian’s sides. Clara unzipped a small backpack she carried with her, and produced a paper sheet, folded twice into a small square. She discreetly gave it to her Grandma. Lillian frowned, extended her delicate hand and reached the paper.
"What’s this, sweetie?" Lillian whispered.
“Something I wrote for you to read,” Clara said, in a bashful tone.
“A story?” Lillian asked, flashing a smile.
“Not really, Grandma. Read it when you go back to the nursing home.” Clara asked, blinking, as if wanted to say more. But she said nothing else, and gently rested her head on her Grandma’s arm.
Read it alone, Grandma, when no one is around, Clara hoped.
Photo source
Clara skimmed through some of the pictures: young and old people, one of a little boy, one of a family of parents and one young girl, and several of a man. She wondered who the people in the pictures were. She didn’t recognize any of them. Clara’s eyes fixed on the man who was in several of the pictures. A tall, dark-haired, handsome guy, sporting a broad smile. In one picture he was playing a guitar. Other pictures were of buildings, old cars and the ocean. There was also a post card, “La Catedral, Habana” was printed on the top. Clara turned the card over and on the back she noticed cursive writing that was illegible to her. The only word she could read was, “Leonardo,” the card sender’s signature.
Clara continued to search through the box, and at the bottom she found a folded document. She opened it carefully, the paper was thin and delicate, nearly as if it were going to disintegrate. The words “Order of Adoption” stood out in Clara’s eyes, and by now, she was started to feeling dizzy.
I gotta go!
She quickly placed everything back in the box, clearly not in the same order, but by now, Clara just wanted to get out of the basement. She closed the box. The missing tape would obviously show signs that the box had been tampered with.
Ugh! Clara felt ashamed.
She knew she had spied on her Grandma’s treasured heirlooms—perhaps part of a past Grandma wanted to keep buried in her remote memories. Or maybe items very dear to her that she may had already planned to share with her and Sabrina someday.
Clara placed the box back on the shelf. The photos... the adoption document... The adventure had turned into a bewildering enigma. Who is that man? Who was adopted?
Oh my God! What have I done? Clara sensed she was in trouble.
Clara’s legs felt shaky, as if they were going to give out on her. Yet she continued walking downstairs until she entered the basement. She turned the light switch on, and headed to the shelf where she knew the Havana box lay.
Clara extended her arm, and reached out for the box. She noticed fingerprints on the layer of dust on top of the box. She recognized those were her own fingerprints from recent days when she discovered the box.
Clara dusted off the box with her t-shirt. The dust bothered her, but her curiosity was stronger than the annoyance. She stayed focused on her mission of finding out what was inside. She quickly ripped off the tape that sealed the box. The tape was too old, and it didn’t take much effort to tear it off.
Clara’s hands trembled as she started to open the box. She turned to her right to reach an old table where she placed the box. She sneaked a peek of the contents in the box.
Old black-and-white photos, and fading yellow papers!
Allison felt happy. She cherished every minute she spent with her mother, and, especially, observing her improvement. Lillian was now able to carry on a conversation with less difficulty recalling words. Her meals were upgraded to a regular diet.
No more of that ground up food! Lillian had expressed with excitement when she got the news about her new diet. Lillian’s feeding tube was no longer being used. However, there would be a prudential time to wait before the physician would definitely determine that the feeding tube could be removed.
Lillian was bothered seeing the tube inserted into her skin. But there was nothing she could do about it at this time. So, she tried to ignore it... and cover it from her, and her family’s sight.
“Mother, if you need to go to the restroom, I can help you,” Allison offered. “Because you’re using the walker, it’s easier for me to assist you, instead of bothering the aide. She may have other patients in really bad shape, needing her help.”
“Okay, just move my walker closer to me. I can walk fine,” Lillian said, placing her hands on the recliner, and pushing down as she stood up.
Allison closed the room door, drew the walker closer to her mother, and opened the restroom door.
Lillian walked in and as she was undressing, Allison noticed something with the corner of her eye: Her mother had a tattoo on the right side of her hip.
Allison’s jaw dropped.
I never knew Mother had a tattoo! Suddenly, Allison felt the urge to ask about it—but she quickly remembered how private her mother was.
“What’s wrong?” Lillian asked, noticing Allison’s startled expression.
Allison turned her head away. “Nothing, Mother. I need to go and check on Sabrina. She went to help in an arts crafting activity.”
Oh! She saw the mockingbird tattoo! Lillian opened her eyes widely.
