The Half Life of a Nuclear Family

It was just breaking dawn as I drove down the coastal highway. I could smell the ocean, hear the waves. I had to take a break, a night of driving and despair had taken it's toll on me. I pulled over at a parking area and walked out toward the beach. I was reminded of all those good summers together, well, when the family was together. It felt like a lifetime ago.

10 years ago, the last summer together, was magical. The kids played during the day in the sand. Walks to the Jetty and along the long, large boulders, out to the ocean. The younger kids held hands and navigated the rocks slowly while the older ones skipped along like Billy goats. Then when everyone reached the end, there would be the traditional scream in the manner of James Cagney in White Heat, "Top of the World Mom"!!!

We would all come back, and then just rest and stare at the waves reading books, drinking beers and just being together as one collective. Our final night's tradition was to make a chocolate cake, with everyone contributing to the effort. We would then bring the cake out to the beach and place it on a table and then each, with our hands grab and eat some, finally having a family frenzy of a cake fight and then jump in the ocean as a kind of cleansing and rebirth! Yeah, it was weird, people stared, but it was ours!

The surf comes and goes, like memories in my mind, the deceptions, the money deals, the lies. The smaller things like a slight against someone’s partner, an insult to a spoiled child. The small strokes of emotional water, eroding the sandcastle of the family, eventually ending up with everything drifting apart. Goddamn, it was so slow that by the time anyone paid attention, it was too late. Do the specifics matter, nope, just the bonds breaking.

I get back in the car, I need to get there, I need to say goodbye. It’s the last and least I can do. After all these years.

I pull back out onto the highway and I notice my Sister had texted.

"I know you don't want to see or talk to us, but I wanted you to know that Mom does not have much time left, so if you want to say goodbye, you need to hurry and get here"

My Mom was diagnosed with late stage pancreatic cancer 2 months ago and began to deteriorate quickly. The last time I spoke to her was 3 years ago, it was not pretty. Dad had died the year before and everyone was fighting over the will, most convinced I deserved nothing because I ran out on the family. I told them I didn't care, but they just thought I was playing them, especially my Mom, but then she always listened to my siblings and never to me.

I drive on through the day. Flying was not an option because of Covid and Mom was in Hospice which had slightly more liberal visiting rules.

I arrived at the Hospice facility around 5PM. They let me in and brought me to her room. She was not conscious and had not been aware of anything as they told me as they have just been "keeping her comfortable". I leaned over and kissed her forehead and told her, "I'm sorry we did not talk, that we wasted time over stupid things, that I would try and re-connect with my brother and sister, that I loved her".

I then opened the cooler I was carrying and placed the slice of chocolate cake on her night table. Just a little reminder of better times when the nuclear family was whole and not the broken down version it had become.

I got up and left. I got back in my car and drove back out towards the ocean. I'm going to jump in and try to cleanse myself of the hate and anger and see if better days lie ahead.