A Part Of Me:

by Karin Aharon

  While Jonathan went to speak with Gabi, I passed by Tommy’s room. I was jealous of his ability to sleep so peacefully.

  Then I went to mom’s bedroom and opened the glass door to their large walk-in closet. Most shelves had mom’s clothes, naturally, but what shocked me most, was the smell. It was her smell. When Jonathan and Maya walked in, they found me sitting on the floor and crying, surrounded by empty trash bags scattered around.

  “Would you like us to come in later?” Maya asked gently as Jonathan started opening the draws to see how much work we had ahead of us.

  “No, let’s start.” I picked myself off the floor and as I cried, I started filling up the bags. The entire day, as well as the following days, we used every moment in which there weren’t any visitors, to go over her things. I didn’t know mom had so much jewellery and scarves.

  Every evening, I would come back home with a car filled with clothes and other items I just couldn’t give to anyone else.

  “I think we’re going to need another closet,” Michael said smilingly, as he helped me carry all the things into the house. But I didn’t feel like talking or smiling. I just wanted this hard week to be over.

  Chapter 68

  On the last evening of the Shiva, I sat in the living room in front of a pile of albums and spoke with Julie. She told me stories about her and mom’s childhood in Romania. Jonathan sat with Maya and a group of friends on the balcony so they could smoke. Tommy was in his room with Dan and some other guys I have never met. This week was exhausting, but obviously, things would be harder after the Shiva was over.

  And then I saw Lisa walk in with a young woman I didn’t know. She had long curly blond hair.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Lisa said and hugged me one long warm hug, one that only someone who understood and had been through it herself could give.

  “Thank you,” I replied as we hugged.

  “This is Grace, who you’ve spoken with recently, remember?” Grace approached me and hugged me as if we had known each other for years.

  “Nice to meet you. It’s so sad that we’re meeting under these circumstances. Come, let’s sit outside.” We made our way to the balcony, and they followed me. I found a spot outside in the corner where we could speak privately.

  “I have a date for the surgery,” I told them as we grabbed three chairs, “October 20th.”

  “That’s great,” Lisa sat down beside me and Grace sat on my other side. I felt surrounded by carriers. I was glad to be with women who understood me, I could see it in their eyes.

  “How long ago did you have the surgery?” I turned to Grace. She really was a beautiful and confidant woman.

  “Almost three months ago,” she proudly answered.

  “Are you still in pain?”

  “Not anymore. I was in pain at the beginning but now I’m completely fine.”

  “That’s very encouraging to hear. I’m very scared of this surgery.”

  Although the whole topic of being a carrier has been pushed aside this week, it still stressed me out. On the one hand, I wanted it to be over, and on the other, I was very scared of it. I didn’t know how I would feel after, if I’d feel anything at all. I was afraid I wouldn’t feel like a woman, that I wouldn’t feel sensual ever again. I was scared I wouldn’t be able lie on my belly and that the scars might not heal well. My head was filled with fears, but none was greater than the fear of the disease itself.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  “I hope.” Although Natalie promised to help me, I knew I would still have to take care of the kids on my own from time to time, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. Even the simplest things, such as tucking Romy in her bed, would be a serious challenge.

  “Would you like to see them?” Grace surprised me.

  “Are you serious?” I was shocked by her proposal.

  “Sure, it would make you feel better. I went to see other women before I had the surgery. Everyone does it.”

  “OK,” I was still shocked but I went with it.

  “Do you have a quiet room?” Grace stood up and waited for me to take her inside.

  “Come,” I told her and we walked quietly among the people who gathered around the table and contemplated which pastry they would have next. We went into mom’s bedroom and I shut the door.

  “Look,” Grace said and lifted her shirt, she also moved her bra a bit so I could see the results, “see? It’s completely fine.”

  “Right,” except for her nipples, or actually the lack there of, everything seemed fine. Where the nipples used to be there were two dark red lines. It gave me the shivers, but I tried to look past it.

  “The scars will disappear in time,” she explained as if reading my mind.” It can take a year or so.”

  “That’s reassuring, doesn’t it hurt?” I asked again to make sure.

  “Not at all. Except for breastfeeding, you can do everything. I started running again, and exercising, just like before.” Grace put down her shirt and we went back to the busy Shiva.

  “And how did you handle the children?” that was my second concern, after the pain.

  “Look, it wasn’t simple. My father and mother in-law helped a lot, they even slept over at the beginning.” Grace pulled out her phone and showed me pictures of her children.

  “Cute,” I said, and thought how lucky I was to have Natalie.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of tips before the surgery and you’ll be done in no time.” Grace sounded like a motivation personal trainer.

  “Sure,” said Lisa, who joined us by the pastry table.

  “I hope, thank you for everything.” Perhaps it had something to do with our intimate moment in the room before, but I felt close to Grace and knew that we would stay in touch. Now all I had to do was wait for the surgery and have it done. It was time that I saved myself.

  Chapter 69

  When the Shiva was over, so was the summer vacation, and Adam was very excited to start the first grade. Romy was very excited to start going to Tammy’s daycare, and Ariel started preschool. It was a time of new beginnings, and mom had missed them all.

  Michael and I took Adam on his first day, and attended the ceremony they had prepared for the new children. I cried throughout the entire thing, both with excitement, but also because I felt I had missed the chance to share this experience with my mom. Every incident such as this would end with me calling her and sending her photos. Now she wasn’t here anymore, and I needed to adjust.

  And I missed her. Oh, how I missed her. I missed our calls on my way home from the office. I would call her when I stepped out of the elevator, and sometimes, we would talk until I arrived home or to daycare. I was used to keeping her up to date about everything that happened. I still had Gabi, of course, but he had little patience for my stories. He was devastated, and tried to get back to some kind of routine, just as the rest of us did. But for him it was even harder since he was now living alone.

  If I could, I would have told her that all the exams for the surgery came out fine. That I bought the special bras I heard about, and that I had prepared a detailed schedule for Michael and Natalie for each day I was supposed to be at the hospital. I made all the necessary preparations with the insurance company. I even booked a private room at the hospital. Everything was ready.

  After the extra days off I had taken to help the children adjust to their new school and daycares, I went back to the office. It was weird. I felt as if I had taken a load off. I spent more time at home, and mostly didn’t spend my time at any hospitals or in traffic on my way to one. But I was overwhelmed by sadness. I tried smiling to the children, and spending more time with them, but every second I was alone, a broken dam of tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheeks. I would cry in the shower, and while driving. Every song on the radio was about mom, as if written
for me. I behaved like a teenage girl with a broken heart, and cried from every little thing.

  With all these things I was going through, I did actually find some time for work. I went back to my cases and clients after having been away for almost one month. Everyone was very supportive and understanding. They even waited a few more days before gently sending emails, “how are you?” and “when can we see you?” The routine was stronger than sorrow.

  And then came Rosh Hashanah. Our first holiday without mom. We have never been a family who devoutly celebrated the holidays, but meeting the family was an inseparable part. Eric and Ruth invited us over, and it was nice seeing everyone. However, mom not being there, made the whole event painful. I didn’t really want to see grandmothers with their grandchildren, even if they were my relatives. It was just unfair, aggravating, but mostly painful. As if I had reopened a wound that had yet to fully heal.

  Going back to the office wasn’t simple either. It was hard hearing stories about mothers who would pick up their grandchildren from daycare, or cook, or in fact do anything that a mother would. The moment one of the girls started complaining about their mother, I would leave the kitchen under some silly excuse. But in Ali’s case, I couldn’t hold it in.

  “Never mind all this nonsense about the candy. You have a mother? She’s healthy? Let her give them all the candy she wants.” The girls immediately fell silent, and Anna stood behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders. Everyone quietly went back to their salad and pasta takeout boxes. No one looked at me.

  “Sorry,” I said, and left the kitchen, heading to my office. Anna followed me and closed the door.

  “Are you OK?” she asked with caution.

  “No, actually, not at all. I can’t sleep and I keep thinking about my mom all the time. What would she say, what would she have thought? I can’t let it go.” I sat in my chair with despair.

  “It takes time. It’s called ‘The Year-long Mourning’ for a good reason. It doesn’t end with the Shiva.”

  “I know. But I’m just so sad all the time. If it weren’t for the children, I wouldn’t have smiled at all. I keep trying just for them,” I said through the tears.

  “And it’s good that you keep trying. You’ll see, it’ll get better,” Anna stood next to me and hugged me. At that moment, I couldn’t believe I would ever feel better. I couldn’t believe I would ever feel truly happy. I couldn’t believe things could be any worse. But I was wrong.

  Chapter 70

  The date of the surgery was approaching. A week before, Michael and I went over the instructions from Dr. Kaspi, the anaesthesiologist Dr. Katzman’s recommended. Indeed, he seemed very professional and pleasant. During our meeting, he asked me a lot of questions in his South American accent and checked all the documents I brought with me.

  “Any family illnesses?” he asked when he opened the red file that had a sticker with my name.

  “Does cancer count?” I asked with a smile.

  “Yes, but I’m referring to any heart conditions, heart attacks, etc.”

  “Not that I know of. Perhaps a heart condition on my father’s side. I know that my grandfather had a heart attack, but he lived to be 90 years old, so it probably wasn’t that bad.”

  “Good. I see that your blood clotting test results are good,” he mumbled to himself, “good EKG. Good blood count. Good chest x-ray. So that’s it. Don’t forget to fast like I told you – from 9 A.M. and until after the surgery. In the morning you should only have a light breakfast. An omelet, some Greek yogurt, a snack pack.” I was uncomfortable telling him that other than the omelet, there wasn’t any chance I would eat any of the other things he had mentioned.

  “OK, is that it?” I collected the documents into the folder I had received from Dr. Katzman.

  “Yes, I’ll see you right before the surgery.” Dr. Kaspi looked up at me, but I kept sitting there. I felt as if I had other questions to ask, but couldn’t think of any.

  “What’s the matter? Are you nervous about the surgery?” he asked as he put the documents back in the drawer and his stamp into his bag.

  “A little. Yes, I think I am.” This was my first surgery and I didn’t know what to expect.

  “I’ll give you something to calm you down before the surgery,” he opened the bag and scribbled something with his unclear doctor handwriting, “don’t worry. You’ll come to the surgery relaxed.”

  “Thank you very much. I’ll see you next week.” I stood up and left. I hoped that his ‘something’ would do the trick. It was too bad that a cocktail was out of the question. It could have been very relaxing.

  On my way to the parking lot I had a sad-funny thought. During the surgery, I would sleep better than I had ever since mom had passed away.

  Chapter 71

  It was the day of the surgery. I settled for an omelet with shredded cheese and two slices of bread. I couldn’t believe this tiny meal was supposed to keep me full the entire day. So far, having to fast was the hardest thing about this surgery.

  I was so happy that the wait for the surgery was over. Aside from the constant phone calls, I also received plenty of “good luck” texts, there wasn’t a single quiet moment. It felt like having a birthday, and perhaps, on some level, it really was. Even Tammy the daycare teacher called to wish me luck on behalf of the staff. It really moved me, but Michael wasn’t too happy about it.

  “You’ve told all these people that you’re amputating your breasts?” he asked me after the umpteenth call.

  “Why not? Is it a secret? Should I keep it to myself?”

  “No, but don’t go around telling everyone, either. Why don’t you post a before and after on Facebook?”

  “Let’s not get carried away. I’ll make the posts available for friends only.” But Michael didn’t smile back.

  “Do whatever you want. It’s your body. It seems pointless to me,” he concluded and made himself another cup of coffee.

  “I wanted to discuss something important with you,” I told him as I followed him into the kitchen, “if something were to happen to me, I want you to remarry. Of course, only after having recovered from the pain and shock of my loss. I’m sure you’ll be a very popular widower.”

  Michael gave me an infuriated look, “stop with that nonsense. You won’t die and everything is going to be OK.”

  “Graveyards are full with people who thought everything was going to be OK.”

  “I don’t care about other people. Only about you, and you’re going to be just fine.”

  “OK, but if something were to happen, I want you to find someone who would take good care of the kids. If they stay just with you, they’ll have pizza for dinner every day.”

  “That’s what you’re worried about? Pizzas for dinner?” Michael poured some milk and slowly stirred the coffee.

  “Not just. Everything worries me. And something else, I had almost forgotten. Make sure that they have the genetic test only after they have a steady relationship. Not too early. But they can start having checkups before, around the time they graduate high school.”

  “Shirley,” Michael looked at me with half-scornfully, half-smilingly, “do you also have instructions for the food we’ll serve at your Shiva, or can I make that decision on my own?” he approached me and hugged me tightly.

  “I don’t care about the food as much; it’s your call.” We slowly kissed, and then Michael took his coffee and went back to the computer. He used this morning to work from home.

  We left before daycare was over so I didn’t see the kids again. That morning I said goodbye to them in the calmest way possible. They knew I was going to the hospital, but we were too scared to refer to it as a ‘surgery’. A psychologist we had asked, said we should tell them that this is what the doctors told us to do. Surprisingly enough, the children were calm and the plan was for them to see me the day after the surgery. Assuming every
thing goes well, of course.

  At 3 P.M. we grabbed my bag and left for the hospital.

  ***

  “What a suite,” Sarah said when she walked into my private hospital room on the fifth floor. Her curls grew out since I have last seen her, and they bouncingly followed her into the room.

  “It’s so great that you came!” I hugged her tightly, as long as I was still able to hug.

  “How are you? Nervous?” Sarah hugged Michael, who was happy someone else would now keep me busy, since he wanted to go over his emails.

  “The anaesthesiologist just gave me a sedative, so I’m cool.” I sat smiling on the bed, wearing a ridiculous robe. Sarah sat beside me.

  “This place looks beautiful. Not at all like a normal hospital.”

  “Right, the smell is different too. A normal hospital usually smells like cooked vegetables and disinfectants. There’s a clean smell here. Right, Michael?”

  Michael lifted his eyes from the screen for a second and shrugged. I think he couldn’t wait until they put me out and he could get some quiet. I talked all day, non-stop, it was the stress, I guess.

  “I’m contemplating what I should ask you to get me for dinner,” I told Michael and tried looking out at the restaurants downstairs, “perhaps some pasta. Do they have pasta somewhere around?”

  “Of course they do,” Sarah said and started searching her phone for Italian restaurants nearby.

  A nurse came in and looked at the file on my bed and said an orderly would soon come in to take me downstairs. When she left, Gabi walked in.

  It was then that I was truly happy that I had no memories of mom from this hospital. This was an emotionally neutral place for me. Mom had never been here nor had any of her surgeries here. It was hard finding a hospital that answered these criteria in our area.

  “This is Sarah, a friend of mine from the previous office. She was also at the funeral,” I introduced the blunder of curls that jumped up to hug him.