Love story 33 – Inna’s last week
So, once again, I left the farm, Inna, Anthony, the oranges, little dogs, Inna’s golden-haired grandchildren. And I left my mother, with my two younger, growing-up brothers, in a house that was, for me, dark with the absence of my father, and I went to Perth to pursue my nursing career.
While I waited for the nursing course to begin I worked in a nursing home and lived with friends of friends. One day, I felt very weird and nearly fainted at handover and was sent home. In the evening, I rang Anthony and he said Inna was in hospital again. He was very gruff on the phone but I was too worried about Inna to care. I then rang the hospital and was put through to Inna who sounded different, not herself.
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I can’t remember how I got the week off from the nursing home where I was working, but I did. I can’t even remember how I got from Perth to the hospital where Inna was, 200 kms away, because I didn’t have a car at the time. All I do remember is the eight days I sat with Inna, all day and into the evenings. And on the morning of the ninth day, Inna let out a huge gasp and died.
Love story 34 – Promise to Inna
During the week before Inna died, she fluctuated a lot. Sometimes she would want me to light her a cigarette, sometimes she would want to leap out of bed and go home but, eventually, by about the fourth day in hospital, she lapsed in a semi-comatosed state. Just before she did so, though – and these were her last coherent words to me – she said, “Promise me, darling, that you will look after Anthony?” and her tired eyes twinkled with a mixture of hope and mischief.
“I promise,” I said, squeezing her hand, and she went to sleep. She slept quite peacefully then for the next few days before she died.
Love story 35 – Inna’s death
I wasn’t sure if Inna had died. Well, I was sure in one way but, as I had never seen this before, I got a bit panicky and ran out of her hospital room into the corridor to find a nurse or a nun or someone. I held my sobbing inside me like a scratchy rock until one of the nuns came back with me into Inna’s room, saw that she had died, and gently touched her eyelids to make sure they were closed.
It was only when this lovely nun nodded to me that I realized for sure and I let the scratchy rock out of my throat and wept, not sure if I could touch Inna’s hand again or not. But when the nun went away to call Anthony, I grabbed Inna’s limp hand and held it to my chest and sobbed.
By the time Anthony and his brother arrived I had calmed down a bit so I left Inna’s room so they could have some privacy with their mother. A little while later, they joined me in an adjacent waiting room where I was, once again, crying but neither of them had a hanky or a tissue, and the nun had left us to it, so my tears just fell, unhindered, onto the blue carpet.
Inna was gone.
Love story 36 – Growing up
The years after Inna’s death are a bit of a blur to me now so, once again, I will resort to point form:
- I began my nursing training in Perth with my father’s and Inna’s deaths fresh in my head;
- I missed the farm and Anthony (Husband-to-be) intensely;
- I missed my mother and my brothers;
- I was a good trainee-nurse in the sense that I cared so much about patients;
- I was a hopeless trainee-nurse in the sense that I could never figure our how to do the autoclave thing and I was fearful of any equipment that seemed complicated;
- During my first few weeks working at the hospital, I watched a young boy die gradually in agony from spinal cancer and his screams still haunt me;
- I was given the job of tending to this boy – his ablutions etc. and this was a massive shock to me because he was bedridden and always screaming and I remember thinking how wrong this was;
- I wanted Anthony to bring me home again;
- I wanted my mother to bring me home again;
- When the boy died, I was so happy for him;
- I would ring Anthony occasionally but he was always a bit cagey (maybe when the girlfriend was there);
- I would ring Anthony occasionally and he would shout “JULES!” into the phone and, one time, before I knew what I was going to say, I said it anyway – “I love you, Anthony”;
- He said he had to go and feed the calves;
- I said I was sorry.
At the time, I still hadn’t reached the milestone of 21 and Anthony was 44.
Love story 37 – Inna’s dress 1
Before Inna died, she was always trying to influence the way I dressed. My earlier attire of thongs, batik skirts and t-shirts had been replaced by jeans, collared shirts and sandals (easier on the bicycle) but regardless of what I wore, Inna always disapproved. She herself always wore frocks, stockings and court shoes.
One day, she looked at my jeans and said, “Darling, we really need to do something with you. Let’s have a look and see if I have something,” and with that she opened her wardrobe to an array of dresses and picked out two to give me – and made me try one on.
The horror! I mean, for a teenage girl, I was unusually indifferent to fashion trends but I did know for sure that I didn’t want to wear dresses made for old ladies.
And who should walk into the house while Inna was parading me in front of the hallway mirror?
Love story 38 – Inna’s dress 2
When Anthony saw me in his mother’s dress in front of the hallway mirror, his expression was both perplexed and amused.
“Mum,” she shouted to Inna, who was, of course, standing next to me, “are you insane? What are you doing to her? She looks ridiculous!”
Inna was abashed, but only slightly. “It’s a vast improvement,” she said to her son.
“No, it’s not, Mum – she’s a kid, not an old lady!”
As they tossed their dispute around the hallway, I scurried into Inna’s room and took her dress off and threw my own clothes on hurriedly, terrified they would follow me. Once I was dressed as ‘me’ again, I hung the dress back in the wardrobe and listened at the door until I heard Anthony stomp out of the house. Then I waited.
A few seconds later, Inna opened the door, looked at me for a long moment and then said, “Would you like a cup of tea, darling. The kettle’s just boiled.”
jmgoyder 
i always hate it when i see the comment section, because i know my reading has come to an end.
That’s a lovely thing to say – thanks!
Lovely stories. Even the last few days spent with Inna. Many young people are kept from experiences like that, and it was a blessing to her to have you there when she passed.
I sometimes have to relive events backwards, too. So many memories, and it’s hard to keep them in time perspective. I wish now I had journalled my days with Dad just to keep that timeline, so I think I’ll do that with Mom.
Good idea – recording past events in whatever order is difficult but recording present events can be useful I guess. I feel for you re your ma.
Life (and that includes death) can be tough.
So right.
enthralling
Thanks! I’ve written several more mini-chapters so will keep plonking them back onto this blog. When I put the love story posts into their own blog they kind of petered out alas!
I wish I had been smart enough to discover them – love them – you have quite a story to tell.
It began to get a bit stale in its own blog so I’m glad to put it back here – thanks!
glad you did
Wow. Just wow.
I’ve enjoyed reading your love story, especially in the context of current life. But I’ve missed one important bit of information. why were you always at Inna’s farm and so attached to her? I suspect it’s important to he whole picture.
Good point – probably in some previous chapter but I was employed by the family to look after Inna.
Thank you, that helps. What a sweet way for Inna to pick her future daughter-in-law!
Too bad she died before we got married.
Yes, it is. But somehow, I’m pretty sure she knew what she’d set in motion and was well aware (and celebrating) when you and Anthony married.
I think you are right!
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I remember each one of these. It’s nice to see them together.
They are all over the place in terms of time – do you think that’s okay – this lack of coherence?
It’s never bothered me because the theme and tone hold it together. It’s not so much about time as experiences, and that works for me.
phew!
Ah, the roller coaster of life. You’ve got to love Inna for trying to dress you like an old lady and arguing with her son about it. What a funny situation!
The definition of awkward!
It’s still the best part of this story to me that Inna gave her blessing by asking you to look after Anthony.
Coming soon to your local cinema!
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