Remember The Moon (14 page)

“OK, Calder, the firefighter replied. “We’re going to help you. Where does it hurt?”

“My shoulder.”

“OK. We’ll be careful then.” The firefighter eased Calder’s helmet off his head to more moans and felt the back of his head and neck. “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”

Calder complied and Maya breathed a sigh of relief.

“You may have broken your collar bone, Calder, but we’ll get you to the hospital so they can take some X-rays. Sound good?”

Calder nodded, his expression serious, and I could tell he was on the verge of tears. As the firefighter checked Calder’s vitals he asked, “So how’d you get yourself into this mess? Your mom says you tried to skateboard all the way down that ramp?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Maya was crouched down beside the firefighter. “Why would you do that, Calder? You know it’s dangerous. And I’ve forbidden you to skateboard here. You could have died,” she said.

“I wanted to die.” Calder looked at her, his expression hard.

“Hey, hey now. Why would you want to die?” the firefighter asked.

“So I could go and see my dad.” The firefighter looked up at Maya, surprised. Maya looked stricken and then started to cry. Only then did I realize how serious things with Calder had become.

Later that night I visited Calder as he drifted off to a medicated sleep.

Calder?

Mmm.

Quite a day.

Yeah.

Not a brilliant move, dude.

Maybe not.

Did you really want to die?

I don’t know. Kind of. I want to be with you.

It’s not your time yet, Beano.

Why not? It wasn’t your time yet, was it?

Good point. I didn’t think so, but it’s not something any of us have any control over. For some reason, it was my time.

I hate my life.

It will get better. My dad died when I was young too, remember. I should know. If you die now, think of all the good stuff you’d miss.

Like dumb school?

No. Like fishing in the summer with grampa or growing up and getting married and having a baby.

I don’t like girls. They’re gross.

They won’t always be gross. Someday you’ll want to kiss one.

Eeww.

Haha. See all the great stuff you’d miss if you died?

But I’d be with you.

You’ll be with me soon enough. Take your time buddy and enjoy this life.

I don’t know how.

That therapist can help with that.

No.

You need to try and stick with it.

Why?

Because talking about my death will help.

It’s stupid. It doesn’t help at all.
Under his eyelids, Calder's eyes were dancing their REM dance. His brain waves were in a Theta state, that state of consciousness that makes a human mind most accessible to the spirit realm.

I used to think the same thing. But now I wish I had stuck with it.

You do?

Yeah. If I had, I think I would have been a better dad to you. I wouldn’t have tried to push away the sadness I had when my dad died.

I don’t want to be sad. I want to be a happy person.

I know, buddy. We all do. I did too. But sometimes you have to let yourself be sad. It’s OK. You won’t break.

Are you sad that you died?

Of course. It was a stupid accident. And I miss you and your mom. But things here aren’t so bad.

Did it hurt to die?

I didn’t feel it. It was fast.

That’s good.

It’s so different over here. How I died doesn’t really matter anymore. We’re still growing and changing.

Do you have a body?
Calder's breathing deepened as he slipped into a Delta wave state of sleep consciousness.

No. Not really.

What do you do there?

I’m growing up still. I’m learning how to be a better father to you.

But you’re dead. How can you still be my dad?

In lots of ways. Like talking to you the way I am now. I love you,

Beano.

I love you too, Daddy.

“The therapist wants to put Calder on meds,” Maya said, twisting a curl of hair around her finger and biting her lip, waiting for the reaction of the others. She was at Molly’s house, another widowed mom in the grief support group that met once a month in each other’s homes. The women gathered around Molly’s living room – Maya on the couch, Molly, dwarfed by her oversized denim-covered chair, Kristie in a wicker rocker dragged in from the porch, and Chelsea on her knees near the coffee table, her back warmed by a fire in the fireplace that warded off a late November chill, with her cup of tea perched near a large plate of homemade peanut butter cookies. Of course, unbeknown to our wives, us dead husbands were there with them. Participating in these groups had become a habit for all of us, the dead and the living. When the group of widows began meeting, the husbands remained in the distance, held off by a strange mixture of regret and sadness. But the energy this group of women exuded as they talked drew us in. We became more substantive in our presence. I was able to make out a few of the human features of each husband and we developed a sort of camaraderie between us. I sat beside Maya on the couch.

“Really? He seems so young. Do you think it’ll help?”

Chelsea asked, looking concerned. “Are things really that bad with him?”

“Temper tantrums, throwing things, breaking his toys, then the skateboarding accident.”

“How’s he doing after that?” Kristie asked.

“Oh, he’s fine. He spent a few days lying around the house, but now he just wears the brace around his shoulder and he’s fine. He’s back at school.”

“That must have been so scary!” Molly said.

“Yeah. He actually told the fireman that he wanted to die,” Maya said, her eyes filling with tears.

“Oh God!” Molly said.

“Yeah. He keeps saying how much he hates his life. It’s awful. I can’t leave him with a babysitter without him freaking out and he’s obsessed about me not being late to pick him up at school.” Maya swallowed back her tears, took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Wow! Sounds intense,” Chelsea said. “Tatiana can be difficult, but nothing like that.”

“I know. It’s a little extreme for an eight-year-old, right? I always thought people who put their kids on meds were copping out or something, but I’m starting to get it,” Maya said as she bit her lip.

“It’s not copping out. Not at all, honey,” Kristie said.

“So you think I should try the meds?” Maya looked around at her friends, imploring them to help her with the decision.

I get it Lenie, but try and find another way. Meds aren’t the answer!
How could the woman who made her own baby food want to put our child on anti-depressants?

“It can’t hurt to try, can it?” Molly interjected.

What is wrong with our wives?
I looked at Declan, Molly’s husband, for backup.

Don’t look at me. I agree with them. What’s the harm?

I just think there are alternatives to putting a kid on medication for something like grief.

But isn’t this a little more than just grief? The kid tried to kill himself on a skateboard. Maybe the grief is a precursor to depression. Your son seems to be having a pretty rough time. Have you forgotten that he also pulled a knife out of a drawer and asked his mom to kill him? If that’s not a cry for help, I don’t know what is. I think it’s more than just grief.
Declan had a point.

You can’t blame the kid for wanting to be with his dad. Seems like a pretty normal kid thing to me. I don’t think it means he’s suicidal. I’m actually impressed by his creativity and touched that he wants to be with me so badly.

A little human of you, don’t you think, Jay?
Ben’s thought was clear. Ben, Kristie’s husband, had been here the longest. He seemed to get a kick out of pointing out one’s human traits, which I found hypocritical, given that it seemed like a pretty human thing to do. In life, Ben had been an extreme athlete and very particular about taking care of his body. Despite his healthy lifestyle, he dropped dead of a heart attack during a marathon. Even the kind of diligence that keeps a human body healthy is no guarantee that a body will last you through old age. I could understand his resentment towards one’s humanness.

Human? Do you mean egotistical? It may be, but I think it’s human nature for a child to want to be with his father,
I replied.

You seem pretty convinced that Maya is wrong about this,
Declan said.

I just don’t like the idea of my son having his brain chemistry altered.

Fair enough, but don’t you think your wife deserves your support?
Ben asked.

Yeah, of course I want to support Maya, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with her, does it?

Ben seemed to shrug.

“God, this is hard. I wish I weren’t doing it alone.” Maya sighed as she spoke.

“Yeah, the alone part sucks,” Kristie said.

Ben looked at his wife. His light blue aura dulled somewhat by her comment, but I read no thoughts from him.
I wish they could see what we see.
Ben’s thought permeated the air around us.

What can we see?
I responded. I sort of knew what he meant, but I wanted to hear it from him.

That the experiences we have on Earth are what shape us, the hard experiences in particular. This culture of medicating is unnecessary.
Ben sounded resolute.

But there are cases where medication is helpful and can positively change neurological synapses in the brain to influence behavior. If the technology is there...
Declan, the scientist, threw in his two cents.

I was no doubt emotionally invested in my son’s wellbeing, but it seemed to me that Calder would emerge from this period of troubling behavior and turn out to be perfectly normal. Without meds.

But what about the toll that would take? On your son, on Maya?
Declan asked.
What if the meds could just be for a little while, to help Calder over his black moods and to help him know what being happy feels like? He can always go off them if it doesn’t seem to be working.

Yeah, but having those chemicals passing through Calder's brain concerns me. We’ve all seen the effects of drugs on the human body. Drug addicts lose their connection to this realm completely. They become so immersed in their human bodies that they can’t retain any spiritual resonance at all,
I said.

Do they? Or are addicts trying to escape their human bodies, maybe trying to find their way here through drugs? What is it? Are you frightened of losing your connection with your son if he goes onto meds?
Declan asked.

I could see my own aura glow with truth. Impossible to hide one’s truth in this realm. Was my concern for Calder's brain really my objection to the meds? Or the fear that I would lose my late night talks with Calder, that meds would block his mind from me?

I’m with you, Jay.
Declan’s thought exuded warmth.
You don’t know the effect those meds will have on Calder's mind, but you might not be able to dissuade Maya from taking this step. She’s trying to help Calder and she’s a desperate mom. You might need to simply support her.

Yeah. I see your point. I guess I can try.

“Thanks guys,” Maya said, smiling. “I feel a little better knowing I have your support. I’m so glad for this group.”

“Me too!” Molly said as she got up from her chair. “Does anyone want a glass of ‘widow juice’?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She disappeared into the kitchen. The women were quiet as they listened to the fridge opening and glasses being pulled from the cupboard. Kristie stood up to help. Maya kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her, settling into her thoughts.

The glasses clinked as they were carried out on a tray. With wine, the women all seemed to relax. Chelsea spoke suddenly, breaking the silence:

“I put a profile on
Match.com
... I’ve decided I want to see what’s out there.”

“Wow!” Maya said.

“I know it’s only been two years since Charlie died, but I think I’m ready.”

I looked at Charlie, whose normally cool blue aura glowed, the only apparent response to his wife’s declaration. He seemed to shrug. “
I know, I know. I’m cool with it. She needs to move on, you know?
”

“Chelsea, that’s great. That’s a huge step.” Kristie smiled. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“No, not at all!” The women all spoke the same words at the same time.

“So?” Maya asked, her lips curled into a sly smile. “Any takers?”

Molly looked shocked for a moment and then laughed.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I’ve had quite a few responses,” Chelsea said. “I’ve been surprised actually. I didn’t think anyone would be interested in a frumpy old mom of a five and eight-year-old who spends most of her weekends on a soccer field. Certainly, a lot of older men responded, a couple of creepos. But one I found interesting... we’re going on a date next week.”

“No way!” Molly said.

“He seems really nice. A professor at Puget Sound University. Something to do with business ethics or some such thing. His name is Ken.”

“Kids?” Maya asked.

“Nope. Married, but no kids. He’s been divorced for about six years.” Chelsea grabbed a cookie from the plate beside her.

“That’s awesome, Chels. I’m proud of you. That’s a huge step,” Kristie said, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess I just felt ready. I’m sick of sitting around every night watching
Sex and the City
reruns. What about you guys? Are you ready?” Chelsea asked as she looked around the room.