It will be the first time I've seen Francis since he fell into the pond, and I'm worried about what he will look like, how he might have changed. Everyone says he "almost drowned", and that's scary because I don't really know what that Means. So far, it feels to me like when you first lose a tooth... the tooth isn't in my mouth anymore but my tongue misses it and keeps going to check to see if it's really gone. I know that my tooth is still around, it's just that I put it somewhere else (it's under my pillow until the tooth fairy finds it), but I have to keep going back to check under my pillow to make sure it's still there. That's Francis - he's not at home and I keep noticing he's missing - from beside me on the bench at the kitchen table, when we're playing outside, at bedtime - only I can't go and check to make sure he's over there at the hospital. I'm worried that God will go and get him, like the tooth fairy takes my tooth from under my pillow, but I won't know for SURE until I can go to check. I know it must be even harder for John, so I try to play with him and keep him company when I'm not at school. He's pretty quiet about it all and hasn't said much about it; I don't ask him because I don't want to make him sad.
Francis almost drowned. At school, I repeat it often as I try to make sense of it. "My little brother almost drowned," I say to my teacher, to my friends, in the hope of getting an answer back that somehow explains it all. My teacher, Mrs. Crewe, is extra nice to me and lets me erase the blackboards and clean the chalk brushes, a job that everyone wants because you get to leave the class early and go outside to do it. That's nice, but it doesn't really help. My friends want to know more about what it was like, but I wasn't there and I don't know. "Did he turn blue?" "Was he all heavy and waterlogged like a stick?" Not hearing anything from me, some of the kids tell me what they know about it, which is far worse than I could ever have imagined on my own. I pretend it is helping but it doesn't, it just makes me even more worried.
At home Saturday morning, we're all dressing up like we're going to church. Mom inspects us as we head outside to the station wagon to make sure faces are washed and teeth are brushed. We all tumble into the car and settle in - John's on Mom's knee; Paul beat me into the front seat between Mom and Dad, so I'm on Tom's knee in the back seat with everyone else. As we pull out of the driveway, I look back through the car window at the house and wonder if the house misses us when we're not there? Can it tell that someone is missing? I think it does because there has been a different feeling in the house lately.
In the car on the long ride to the hospital, Mom and Dad tell us all that the hospital is full of very sick people and we must do our best to be very quiet as we go to see Francis. I've never been in there as far as I can remember. Hospitals are for bringing babies home from, and when that happens, we kids just wait in the car; its a happy time. Mom and Dad say that we're not going to be able to bring Francis home with us this time, we're just going for a visit. Now my tummy is really full of butterflies and I don't feel very good.
Dad parks the car and we all pile out. I hold tight to my Dad's hand as we cross the parking lot. Mom is carrying John who is quiet, but Paul and Philip have raced ahead to the big hospital doors. The doors here are like the new doors at the grocery store - you step on the mat and they open! That is just the greatest thing, and I let go of my Dad's hand to try them out with Paul and Phil. The older kids are rolling their eyes at us, but that's okay, I can tell we're not doing anything bad, and we're still being very quiet.
As they go in through the doors, I notice Mom's purse as it bumps against her hip, the straps looping around her elbow and both hands holding John on her other hip. I've peeked into her purse before and it's full of kleenex. Mom and Dad go over and stand in front of some doors - can it really be an Elevator? I've only seen those on TV - the Get Smart show, where there are so many elevator doors and at the end the doors close on Agent 99's nose! Sure enough, a little bell rings and the doors open, and we all get inside. Dad presses the 4 and as the doors close, everyone is quiet; I look up at everyone, and I think it's not just me with a butterfly tummy.
When the doors open, we follow closely behind Mom and Dad, the older kids farther behind. It's all very bright, and white, and clean, and it smells funny. Then, suddenly, in a room with a glass wall and a television and toys, there is Francis! In his pajamas! He sees us and breaks into his big smile and dimples, and in a second he's up in Dad's arms, then in Mom's along with John. I am so happy to see him too, but I wonder, why is he still in his pajamas? Don't they know it's almost lunchtime? We're not allowed to keep them on at home... oh right, unless we're sick. Now that I've figured THAT out, I notice that the boys have found some good stuff in the play room so in I go to join them.
We are having a great time at the hospital, there are so many toys, and big windows to see the lake and trees and the parking lot from so high up. Our car looks like a big bug on the pavement. We forget where we are a little and a nurse tells Paul and me to stop running in the hallway, which makes me feel Very Embarrassed. We give up that game and head back into the playroom where my family has taken over - not that anyone else is around. I think to myself that Francis is SO LUCKY to have this big, beautiful playroom all to himself! I bet the television in here has even more channels than just CBC, and no-one to tell you to turn it off and go play outside.
The next thing I know, it's time for us to go. The big kids are already waiting over by the elevators, and Paul has pushed the button. But it's not good, Francis is crying, really crying, and we have to leave him there. I see him in the doorway; a nurse is holding him now, but he's holding his arms out to all of us as he sobs. I look up at Mom and Dad and they are smiling, saying "We'll see you again, soon! Be Good!" as they slowly walk away, and I'm holding my Dad's hand again but I can't take my eyes off of Francis. I don't understand why he has to stay "just a little bit longer". In the elevator, John is crying too and I'm staring at the floor. I feel like we are so MEAN to visit him and leave again. When I look up, everyone else has tears in their eyes too. Mom pulls a kleenex from her purse.
As we cross the parking lot the sun is really shining and I skip a little. I can see some dandelions coming out between the cracks in the pavement and that makes me feel a little better. I suppose that "almost drowned" is like being sick, really, really sick so you have to go somewhere else to get taken care of. Dad tells us that it will just be a few more days and then Francis will be well enough to come back home. I look back up at the hospital, at those big windows that look out over the lake, and wonder if Francis can see us. I give a little wave, just in case, and then race to get a spot in the front seat.
It's a funny thing, being in a big family. I never get to be alone but I want to be; I feel lonely when everyone is around but I don't want to be. I think about my tooth back at home, under my pillow, and I know that Francis is NOT like a tooth. I've already started feeling my newer, bigger tooth coming in, but there's no-one that could EVER replace Francis. I think that maybe mom can help me and John to make some cookies for when Francis comes home, or maybe even some cinnamon rolls. Something Special, just for Francis.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
John & Francis - Part I
It's spring and we can finally put away our skidoo boots. The closet at the front door, so packed all winter of coats, mitts, boots, hats and scarves that we can hardly get inside the house sometimes, seems to breathe a little easier now that Mom has gone through everything and stashed things away, after a good washing and airing on the clothesline. We're encouraged to spend more time outside again; not that we need the encouragement - it is so amazing to watch the earth wake up again after a long winter. The days are getting longer and there is a smell in the air that promises warmer weather.
When I get home from school, John and Francis are playing outside in the yard. They are busy making little dams with the water as it flows all around the driveway and the yard. I stop to watch them and see what the game is. They've already got a system worked out and have connected all of the puddles so that quite a lot of water is being held, and they are busy repairing dams to see how long they can keep the water there. Even though they aren't talking much, I can see that they are working together and have a system worked out. I know I need to be careful and not just jump in to "help", because they have already worked out the "rules" and I need to watch for a while in order to learn what they are.
John and Francis are just a year apart, and I am a little jealous of them. They always have each other around to play with. They don't always get along (who does?) but they seem to have a kind of understanding that I can't explain. If I approach them right then I can usually work my way into their game, or start a new one, but I know that sometimes they just won't let me in.
Mom steps outside the house to throw some crumbs for the birds.
"Monik, come into the house and put your play clothes on!"
I leave them to their work and go inside to change.
Today when I come home from school, the yard is empty. The puddles are drier today, but this morning when I went to catch the bus I stepped on the ice in each one just to hear the ice crunch under my feet. It's still cold at night, but there is no snow left anywhere and there is heat in the sunshine. The birds are back and the tree branches are changing colour as they start to breathe in the spring air.
I go straight into the house to find everyone.
"Mom! Mom?"
There is no answer. This is not right - there is ALWAYS someone home. The kitchen seems so empty, although it looks like it usually does - clean and cluttered - lived in. I walk through the house to see if Mom and the boys are resting - mom is expecting a new baby this summer (I hope she's a girl!) so maybe that's it, but I can't find anyone - not even John and Francis.
My big brothers come in from the bus too and don't seem very concerned. I am worried though - it has been a long day at school for me and I need my mom's presence.... I decide to go to see if she is visiting at the neighbours.
"I'm going to check at McInnes's," I announce, and head out the door.
I arrive at the house next door, go through their dark porch and knock on the big wooden door. As soon as Mrs. McInnes answers the door, I know that my Mom isn't there.
"Do you know where my Mom is?" I ask her.
Mrs. McInnes invites me in and I take off my boots and go into the house. The house is very different than ours; I notice it is darker inside, probably because of all the trees around and close to the house, but it is very cozy. Mrs. McInnes gives me a cookie and asks if I'd like some juice, too. "Yes, please," I say, remembering my manners.
I eat my cookie and drink my juice quietly, while my mind is wandering, wondering, what happened? Mrs. McInnes assures me that my parents must have been "out" and been "delayed" somewhere, but it just doesn't sound right to me. It seems to me that Mrs. McInnes looks worried, too.
I thank her for the cookie and juice, and run back home to my brothers. By this time, the high-school bus has dropped off all the big kids and my older brothers and sister are home now, too. Just then my Dad's car pulls up to the house, and he gets out, carrying John in his arms, with a look on his face that I've not seen before.
"Francis is in the hospital, and your mom is with him," he announces to all of us. I am feeling very small as I sit there in the kitchen listening to this news; I don't really understand, and there's so much going on that I can't take it all in. Everyone is asking questions, and Dad is answering, and all I know is that Something Very Bad has happened, something is wrong with Francis, and Mom isn't home.
***
Two doors down the road from our house, our neighbours have a fish pond way at the back of their yard. John and Francis had wandered over there as they were playing, probably following the neighbour's dog "Punkin" - a black and orange dog that always seems so full of woodticks that we don't really want to pat him too much, but friendly enough. They must have been playing too close to the edge of the pond; Francis had slipped right in and disappeared under the mucky water. John had wasted no time at all in running back home, as fast as his little legs could carry him, to tell mom what had happened... mom ran back following John while Dad got the car. Mom didn't even hesitate but jumped right into the freezing cold water and felt for Francis. She had to try more than once because the water was dark and thick, but finally, the second time, she felt him. She pulled him out and jumped into the car, and they sped away to a neighbour's house, Mrs. Penner, a nurse, before continuing on to the hospital. Mrs. Penner gave Francis mouth-to-mouth all the way to Alkay's store before Francis started breathing on his own. Dr. King met them at the hospital.
***
That night as we say the rosary after dinner I know that everyone is thinking about Francis. We don't know what will happen next, but we know that there is nothing that any of us can do now. John has done all that could have been done, and Dad says a special prayer of thanks, just for John - "p'tit Jean".
As far as I am concerned, John is a Hero. At the tender age of 3, he saved his little brother's life. He was so brave; I can imagine him in his bare feet running all that way and being so worried... yes, he is a Hero. I am so proud of him, mon petit frere Jean.
When I get home from school, John and Francis are playing outside in the yard. They are busy making little dams with the water as it flows all around the driveway and the yard. I stop to watch them and see what the game is. They've already got a system worked out and have connected all of the puddles so that quite a lot of water is being held, and they are busy repairing dams to see how long they can keep the water there. Even though they aren't talking much, I can see that they are working together and have a system worked out. I know I need to be careful and not just jump in to "help", because they have already worked out the "rules" and I need to watch for a while in order to learn what they are.
John and Francis are just a year apart, and I am a little jealous of them. They always have each other around to play with. They don't always get along (who does?) but they seem to have a kind of understanding that I can't explain. If I approach them right then I can usually work my way into their game, or start a new one, but I know that sometimes they just won't let me in.
Mom steps outside the house to throw some crumbs for the birds.
"Monik, come into the house and put your play clothes on!"
I leave them to their work and go inside to change.
Today when I come home from school, the yard is empty. The puddles are drier today, but this morning when I went to catch the bus I stepped on the ice in each one just to hear the ice crunch under my feet. It's still cold at night, but there is no snow left anywhere and there is heat in the sunshine. The birds are back and the tree branches are changing colour as they start to breathe in the spring air.
I go straight into the house to find everyone.
"Mom! Mom?"
There is no answer. This is not right - there is ALWAYS someone home. The kitchen seems so empty, although it looks like it usually does - clean and cluttered - lived in. I walk through the house to see if Mom and the boys are resting - mom is expecting a new baby this summer (I hope she's a girl!) so maybe that's it, but I can't find anyone - not even John and Francis.
My big brothers come in from the bus too and don't seem very concerned. I am worried though - it has been a long day at school for me and I need my mom's presence.... I decide to go to see if she is visiting at the neighbours.
"I'm going to check at McInnes's," I announce, and head out the door.
I arrive at the house next door, go through their dark porch and knock on the big wooden door. As soon as Mrs. McInnes answers the door, I know that my Mom isn't there.
"Do you know where my Mom is?" I ask her.
Mrs. McInnes invites me in and I take off my boots and go into the house. The house is very different than ours; I notice it is darker inside, probably because of all the trees around and close to the house, but it is very cozy. Mrs. McInnes gives me a cookie and asks if I'd like some juice, too. "Yes, please," I say, remembering my manners.
I eat my cookie and drink my juice quietly, while my mind is wandering, wondering, what happened? Mrs. McInnes assures me that my parents must have been "out" and been "delayed" somewhere, but it just doesn't sound right to me. It seems to me that Mrs. McInnes looks worried, too.
I thank her for the cookie and juice, and run back home to my brothers. By this time, the high-school bus has dropped off all the big kids and my older brothers and sister are home now, too. Just then my Dad's car pulls up to the house, and he gets out, carrying John in his arms, with a look on his face that I've not seen before.
"Francis is in the hospital, and your mom is with him," he announces to all of us. I am feeling very small as I sit there in the kitchen listening to this news; I don't really understand, and there's so much going on that I can't take it all in. Everyone is asking questions, and Dad is answering, and all I know is that Something Very Bad has happened, something is wrong with Francis, and Mom isn't home.
***
Two doors down the road from our house, our neighbours have a fish pond way at the back of their yard. John and Francis had wandered over there as they were playing, probably following the neighbour's dog "Punkin" - a black and orange dog that always seems so full of woodticks that we don't really want to pat him too much, but friendly enough. They must have been playing too close to the edge of the pond; Francis had slipped right in and disappeared under the mucky water. John had wasted no time at all in running back home, as fast as his little legs could carry him, to tell mom what had happened... mom ran back following John while Dad got the car. Mom didn't even hesitate but jumped right into the freezing cold water and felt for Francis. She had to try more than once because the water was dark and thick, but finally, the second time, she felt him. She pulled him out and jumped into the car, and they sped away to a neighbour's house, Mrs. Penner, a nurse, before continuing on to the hospital. Mrs. Penner gave Francis mouth-to-mouth all the way to Alkay's store before Francis started breathing on his own. Dr. King met them at the hospital.
***
That night as we say the rosary after dinner I know that everyone is thinking about Francis. We don't know what will happen next, but we know that there is nothing that any of us can do now. John has done all that could have been done, and Dad says a special prayer of thanks, just for John - "p'tit Jean".
As far as I am concerned, John is a Hero. At the tender age of 3, he saved his little brother's life. He was so brave; I can imagine him in his bare feet running all that way and being so worried... yes, he is a Hero. I am so proud of him, mon petit frere Jean.
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