The Dreaming Tree

Dying was a lot harder than I thought...

In the beginning, I wasn't ready. After three months of this excruciating experience, I almost yearn for the finality. An end. Death was the only way the suffering would end.

But why did I have to put so much work into it? I'm so tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally tired. Not the "I need to go rest" feeling of being worn out and weary. The kind of exhausted that overwhelms you. It has taken the form of a black weight and crushes me a little more each day.

My family, friends, even the nursing staff see it now. It's reflected in their eyes when they looked at me. I know they want to help, but they are only grasping at smoke. There’s no way for them to get a good grip.

Teddy is the only one who could make the darkness go away.

The clock on the hospital wall reads 6:30 pm, that means they’re late. A small swell of panic fallowed the thought.

What if they don't come?

They always come.

What if something happened?

Nothing happened.

My mind enjoys playing these tricks on me more frequently these days.

Before I could get too far down that rabbit hole, the door opened. A bouncing head of brown curls entered the room, and I felt the sun on my face. My mother waved Teddy in, gestured a hello and shut the door. She liked to give the two of us some time alone.

Teddy.

He was the only thing I'd leave this world that was worth a damn. Giving his waste of a father any credit pained me, but we did make a beautiful child. Luckily, he got all of his dad's looks and none of his heart.

Flopping into bed beside me, Teddy began to give a rambled recap of the days events. He stopped, and got a certain look in his eye.

"What is it honey?"

I knew that look, he had a question and was nervous to ask.

"Momma, what happens when someone dies? Martha said her Grandma died and was in a better place. What place? Can I still visit you if you die?"

"Well I-uh..."

The questions overwhelmed me. What did happen when someone died? "No one really knows", that was a bad answer. It felt like a question for someone a lot smarter than me. Maybe a priest? I'd never been religious before, now might be a good time to start.

I Googled it once. "How to tell your child about death." the search came up with a step-by-step guide on parents.com. But the guide was for after... I wasn't going to be there after.

"How about I read you a story?"

Fortunately, Teddy was seven and very easily distracted. I'll explain it to him later, when I have a better answer.

"Can we do The Dreaming Tree?"

He did it again, the darkness that surrounded me got a little smaller. The Dreaming Tree was my first gift to him, a story I had written before he was born.

"Oh course, that one is my favorite." Smiling, I kissed his head.

When the story began wrapping up, Teddy was fast asleep on my shoulder. Reaching over, I place the notebook on the bedside table. I hand wrote all of my stories and had about 300 little notebooks full of them. Stuffing them into a laptop made them feel less personal to me.

"What happens when Someone dies?"

The question seemed to linger in the silent room. I can recall vividly my first encounter with death. Was that the only way to truly understand, experience? I'm not sure words would be enough.

When we were both around Teddys age, my sister had a hamster named Murphy. The poor fellow never seemed to be content with his glass house. My sister had engineered it from an old fish tank. His last escape attempt would be his undoing. That little chunky body managed to be small enough to squeeze into the drain pipe, but not small enough to get him out.

The stench still haunts my nostrils. As does the memory of my father wrangling with the drain and my sister's mournful screams.

That was death I guess, wrestling with the after math and dealing with your emotions in any way you can.

My sons first experience would be different. I don't know how to prepare him. I thought I'd have more time, but the treatments stopped working. My body was giving up and I couldn't blame it. We were tired.

The hospital door gave a small complaint as it was forced open.

"Is he asleep?" My mother said softly as she strode over to join us by the bed. I nodded in response.

I had envied my mother my whole life. She had the softest aura about her and her willowy figure allowed her to almost dance instead of walk places. Well into her late fifties, Lynn Millar could easily pass for ten years younger. This was all heightened by the contrast that was me, clumsy, stocky, and ill mannered.

Those years of jealousy seemed so stupid now, wasted time and wasted effort. I would live my life as a bridge troll now, if it meant spending a healthy life with Teddy.

"I don't know how to prepare him, mom." The weight was back, my eyes grew hot.

"Let us take care of it, Regina."

She took my hand into hers. Her and my dad were amazing parents. The kind that made other kids jealous and other parents resentful. They were getting old though, they should be enjoying the second half of their lives toddler free.

"I wish there was more I could leave for him, I should be able to take care of him."

The warm tears were starting to turn into sobs. I took a deep breath, the body convulsions might wake Teddy.

"Your father and I will take care of him, you just worry about getting better dear."

They were comforting words, but my parents had gone bankrupt in 2020 after losing their restaurant during the pandemic. They were barley making ends meet.

I had nothing to leave my son. Nothing but Student loans and old notebooks full of stories. Anxiety coursed through me.

"Mom, could you hand me one of my journals? I think the black one is still empty."

My sister had bought me five new Moleskin journals when my hospital visits turned into a hospital home. As gingerly as possible, I shifted my arm out from under Teddy's slumbering body and began to write.

Ten years later

My Dearest Teddy,

Theodor Millar read that line more times than he could count. The journal was worn from use. Tears stained the first page, making a network of rivers, weaving in, out and over his mothers words.

There is so much I want to say to you. I wish I could cram a lifetime of lessons, love and support into this little notebook. Above all, know that I love you more than I could write down in words and leaving you will be the hardest thing I ever do. You are my sun, my light, and the one truly good thing I left this world.

I leave you this journal so we can always be together. Every word you write in here, I will read. Please, don't leave a single detail out, I want to hear all of it.

The time we spent together will never feel like long enough. We were robbed of time, but don't let this experience turn your heart bitter. This life is a beautiful one, and I am so grateful that I got to spend mine with you. Enjoy it, and leave this place with no regrets.

You will do amazing things, and I cannot wait for you to tell me all about them.

I love you with all my heart, forever and always,

Mom

At first, he never forgot to write. She would want to know all of it, every point he scored in soccer, every time he fell in love, every good grade. He laughed fondly when he remembered lying about his repot card one year. As if his mother might come back from the grave and scold him for not studying.

After two years, he had to buy a new notebook, same one every time; all black, Moleskin brand. That felt important to him. Now, the book shelf that sat behind him was full of little black notebooks, organized by date.

The newest notebook sat next to the original, both open to the first page. Theodor had been waiting a month to write this entry. His excitement left him with writers block. Where should he begin?

Mom,

Sorry I wont be able to chat for too long, I'm meeting Jenni and Lucas for dinner tonight. Mackenzie is going to be there and you knoooow I've been trying to find the right time to ask her out. Don't worry, I'll be respectful.

Anyway, that's not why I'm writing. Do you remember that contest I told you about in March? The one grandma entered The Dreaming Tree into? Well, you won mom! Your story won the contest. Not only are they going to publish it, but they are giving us a check for $20,000! How cool is that?

I tried to convince grandma and grandpa to let me buy a new car with the money, but they said you would want me to use it to pay for college. So I'll spend it responsibly, promise.

I just wanted to say thanks mom, I know you're still looking out for us. Also, keep your fingers crossed, I should find out if I got into OSU this week! Ok, I have to run or I'll be late.

Love you and still miss you every day,

Teddy