If Walls Could Talk

If walls could talk, I was born in 1993 in a dark hallway that was filled with arguments and anger. During this time, I had my stomach ripped out twice by the husband during a fit of rage. They had me filled back up with spackle, but I haven’t felt whole since. It wasn’t a big home during this time it felt even smaller.

Until in 1995 after the husband was arrested for domestic violence and the wife moved out. An elder couple in their early 70s moved in. I didn’t think would be here long, but I knew that I could use to the quiet and the light. Two older Italians trying to live out their remaining years in a happy place. They came from a city not far from here.

The woman, Carmella, was not much of a reminiscer. She enjoyed being on the go and did most of the housework. She enjoyed having the family over and loved her grandchildren. She had a beautiful garden filled with tomatoes, cucumber, zucchini, eggplant, and basil. She made her sauce and macaroni every week for her family gathering. She played cards with all her grandchildren and had the type of kindness in her heart that only a grandmother could have. The man, Pasquale, was more of a brute. He was in WWII and was at least gentler with me. He made me realize that what we have on this earth is our stories. He was the definition of becoming his story. He too enjoyed have the grandchildren over but was more in touch with the sports side of taking them to the driving range or throwing the ball around (any kind too).

When they were in their 80s, they lost a grandchild, Sonny, at the age of 28 to cancer. It was the first time that I felt true loss in this house. I cried when they cried, my state of mind was foggy, and I didn’t know how to help. Sometimes you don’t have the answer you just keep living. At times that feels impossible.

Soon after that Pasquale stopped driving. Carmella never learned how to drive so this made the two very dependent on their family. This was about the time where most of their grandchildren were all able to drive. She still wanted to be independent but realized that there was nothing she could do at this point. Pasquale would lose his train of thought very easily and the day before he was no longer allowed to drive, he almost hit me. That was a scary day. Almost as scary as the time I had these weird bugs (termites) coming out of me. Pasquale was very good with his hands and was able to rebuild me and prevent that from ever happening again.

The smells in this home were happy and vibrant and when they lost their grandchild, they became sad with the realization that I may not have this kind of joy again. The grandchildren are getting older and visiting less and the fun that would take place was diminishing. the games that were played in the basement, golf, the balloon game, hide and go seek and the hockey game, played dangerously with a golf ball and golf clubs and the goal set by needing to score between the legs of an old ottoman with a 1930s tv on top of it. I would tell you what a happy place it was filled with life. Now it felt like there was a piece of us missing again.

When Carmella fell for the first time in 2013, we were told by the doctor that it was her equilibrium. By the time it was 2015 she was falling more often to the point where I was getting bumped into quite often, I was very worried for her as Pasquale was getting around less and could barely hear. Sometimes it was comedic how the interpretation of what she, a soft-spoken woman, was trying to speak to a man that could not hear. Then it became quite sad as they couldn’t really talk to each other much. One day Carmella thought that she would be able to fix the light bulb and decided to go up on the ladder. Pasquale saying, “don’t lean backwards I have the ladder.” Next thing you know she lost her balance fell butt first into Pasquale and Pasquale hit me hard. He had to call up his children to come get him off the floor because “hardheaded Carmella” didn’t want to call in the first place just to change a light bulb.

There was less movement in the home, a lot more staying and watching television in their 70s they would take weekly trips to the Atlantic City, now they are being picked up by their children driving on the front lawn, so they don’t have to walk as far. When the lights came on at night, I used to be excited to see them come home, now I get nervous that someone needs to go to the hospital. I used to listen to voices from the grandchildren singing and dancing and now I hear Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy and then Everybody Loves Raymond in that order every night until Carmella goes to bed. Pasquale would stay up most nights until 3 a. m. and would sleep until 1 pm. His blood thinners beginning to always make him colder he began to always raise the heat, and I would sweat on a nightly basis. He was no longer able to stand the cold while Carmella could no longer stand the heat.

During the war he was able to go through some of the most torturous prison of war camps and survive now he needs to hold onto his walker to get from his kitchen to his bedroom 12 feet away. He was whittled down to his stories, the kind where now he tells them, and his children and grandchildren are no longer listening. They went from being so attentive to being on their phones constantly. They went from these flip phones to these kinds where they can see their friends faces on them and they can nonstop talk to one another. Even when they were around, they just felt distant. They didn’t care anymore even when Pasquale would tell his stories.

In 2016, both 94, Carmella while she was doing her housework, had another fall. This time it wasn’t as Pasquale like to call the ladder incident “ass to face.” This time it was much more serious. She fell and hit her head on a metal knob that stuck out of her nightstand, and she began to bleed, some of it got on me. Pasquale had his last great heroics almost like watching him when he first moved in. He ran to her aid when he saw her on the ground, he put a towel under her head and turned her on her side. He used me to help get him down the hallway fast enough to get to the phone. He first called the ambulance then his children. He replaced the towel and washed the one filled with blood in the sink. I was no longer worried about the blood on me, but the blood Carmella was losing waiting for the ambulance. She was losing a lot of blood and was unconscious for 5 minutes before Pasquale found her. If it wasn’t for me, I don’t know if he would have ever known she fell.

While he was in such disarray, he didn’t use the walker once his adrenaline pumping, his blood pressure way up and then the worst happened he had a heart attack. The ambulance arrived thinking it was going to be for one person and ended up being for two. If I could cry, I knew it would be in this instance I didn’t care about the blood that was left on me from where Pasquale had left it, I didn’t know what to do. I knew there was a good chance that I didn’t get to see them ever again.

The next morning when the sun was out no windows or curtains were opened, it was dark. I, much like Pasquale but for different reasons, did not like the dark. I had been in the dark before with people that I didn’t like and didn’t like me, this was the first home I was truly apart of. Pasquale didn’t like the dark because that was the worst time for torture while in the prison camp, he always wanted to be able to see and always slept with a light on. I liked that a lot.

Five days had passed from the last I saw them, yes, they were moving slow and the times we had were dwindling, the fun, excitement was gone for a few years now, but I missed them, I could only be patient and wait until their return. I could only hope that the last time I saw them wasn’t in that way. I didn’t want it to be left like that where I had nothing left to offer. I didn’t want the bloodied hand of Pasquale to be the last time I was able to feel them. He had such big hands but for a larger-than-life man who worked in construction and played golf he had these smooth caressing hands. I missed his touch and his jokes sometimes they were told too often for his grandchildren or children to the point where they stopped listening sometimes, he would add something to it to see if they were paying him any mind and they wouldn’t even look up from their new devices. They might have heard it a thousand times but for him it was like he was telling it for the first time since his memory was slipping. He never lost the enthusiasm behind the story, but he lost the audience.

Then I heard a key!

I was so excited I couldn’t believe it; they were home.

But instead, it was the entire family. What was left of me felt like it had fallen apart, just like the night when their grandson Sonny had passed away the whole family got together in this house which meant one thing, they didn’t make it. But I got to entertain one last time with the family telling stories about their parents, uncle, cousin, grandparent/great grandparent, the family trying to smile one last time while ordering pizza and bringing over desserts and there was family over I hadn’t seen in years.

I don’t know what my next journey will be or who it will be with, but this was a journey I will never forget. I got to spend it with people who loved being around each other and their family showed me what happiness really looks like and how to live out their remaining years can be such a blessing when surrounded by the right people, even if that is just the two of them.

They only had each other in the end, but they always made the most of it. I can only hope that the next people that call me home can make me feel as full as they did. I can only hope that this time I can experience that from earlier in a family’s existence and be there to watch them all grow, and this time hopefully not grow apart. I hope the next family doesn’t put me back in the dark, I can only hope.