{"id":1915,"date":"2014-09-11T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2014-09-11T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/?p=1915"},"modified":"2020-09-05T04:22:01","modified_gmt":"2020-09-05T09:22:01","slug":"the-roar-of-the-elephant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/the-roar-of-the-elephant\/","title":{"rendered":"The Roar of the Elephant"},"content":{"rendered":"
Fiction by<\/h5>\n

Linda Breeden<\/a><\/h3>\n
\n

L<\/span> ife happens and then it just stops. The \u201chappens\u201d part, with all the starts and pauses, joys and disappointments, make up modern family life. My family consisted of my parents, my son and his wife, and my precocious granddaughter. The modern label is the \u201cclub-sandwich\u201d generation; here, in the South, we just call it family. Life, too, is full of obvious truths that in any family are either ignored or unaddressed. It\u2019s called \u201cthe elephant in the room.\u201d
\n<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Now, obviously, a real elephant in any room would be impossible to ignore.\u00a0This is when life teaches us that pretending something doesn\u2019t exist is merely choosing to not deal with issues that overwhelm us. And so the elephant stomps or snorts, rumbles or roars, and its presence can no longer be ignored. We have to pay attention to this four-ton creature in the room, no matter how much we might want to pretend it\u2019s not really there.<\/p>\n

I was born late in life to parents who had been assured they could never have children. It was the 1950s, and Mama was a \u201cLeave It to Beaver\u201d stay-at-home mother, complete with pearls and high heels. Come to think of it, I never, ever saw her mop a floor.\u00a0Daddy was the president of our community bank, head of the chamber of commerce, and lay speaker at church.In the South, summers were hot, humid, and lazy. Days were endless except for the month we spent at the beach with Mama teaching me to swim and Daddy making sure I could hit a mean tennis serve.<\/p>\n

Fall always came too soon, bringing with it a new school year. Mama was always at school, which embarrassed me. Not only was she room mother every single year of my student life, she was president of the PTA. She knew every teacher and every mother of every friend I ever had. Sometimes I was tempted to get in trouble just to see if she would find out, but the fear of seeing her eyes lose their sparkle, as they had the year her sister died, kept me from giving into that temptation.<\/p>\n

Daddy knew everything about all things. People would drop by just to ask for his advice or help. I once asked him how he knew so much and he said, \u201cWell, when you survive the Great Depression you learn a great many things.\u201d\u00a0 I kind of got that, but it seemed to me that this Great Depression was a nebulous concept found\u00a0in history books, like the Louisiana Purchase, memorized for a test and then forgotten.<\/p>\n

I once told him, \u201cMy friends\u2019 fathers also survived the Great Depression, but they don\u2019t know everything or they wouldn\u2019t always be asking you.\u201dHe chuckled, rubbed his chin and called me \u201clittle darlin\u201d in his soft Southern drawl, which embarrassed me since I was thirteen. I just avoided the subject altogether after that.<\/p>\n

Somewhere along the way I started taking him for granted and expected all men to be like him. When I finally did marry, it didn\u2019t last long because no one measured up to him.\u00a0The ensuing years of being both mother and father as a single parent brought with it the realization that it\u2019s easy to have a \u201chero measuring stick,\u201d when you can\u2019t see what\u2019s right in front of you.<\/p>\n

The elephant remained an immobile presence in the room, reminding me it was too late to change that ending.<\/em><\/p>\n

During my teen years, there had been an undercurrent of unease at home.\u00a0Daddy worked long hours and Mama stayed in her room much of the time. I began helping out as much as I could, hoping it would ease the tension, even learning to cook.\u00a0Even today, I avoid cooking because it reminds me of that unpleasant time.Eventually the rebellious Sixties gave us all the freedom to challenge our lives and to accept the consequences of that challenge.\u00a0Weary of the roar that wouldn\u2019t go away, I finally asked my parents about that period in our lives.\u00a0They looked at each other for a long time as if they were communicating telepathically, which made me feel excluded.<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes,\u201d Mama said finally, \u201cpeople get so busy doing what they think<\/em> will make the other person happy, that they lose sight of being happy themselves, which is really all that the other person wants.\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant entered the room, roaring, \u201cDidn\u2019t your happiness matter at all?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

My parents had always been there and I assumed always would be. I just hadn\u2019t counted on their loving, beautiful minds failing long before their bodies did. Mama became increasingly forgetful, which initially was amusing, then irritating, and ultimately frightening.<\/p>\n

The elephant, ever present in the room during this time, gently reminded me, \u201cThorns in life are hard because sometimes they are things you can\u2019t fix.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

The tipping point occurred one fall day when my phone rang; the caller ID showed the name of my parents\u2019 next-door neighbor. My hand hovered over the phone. I dreaded picking up the receiver.<\/p>\n

\u201cLinny, it\u2019s Bobbi Jean,\u201d the neighbor said. \u201cYour mother went out for a walk this morning and hasn\u2019t been seen since. I called the sheriff\u2019s office and they just got here. You need to come right away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMissing!\u00a0 Where\u2019s my father?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s here.\u201d She hesitated. \u201cBut he\u2019s not handling this well.\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant\u2019s rumblings came from outside the room: \u201cThis morning!\u00a0That was hours ago. Why are they calling you just now?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Emergency vehicles covered the driveway and lined the curb in front of my parents\u2019 house. I stopped my car in the street and with a pounding heart seized the sheriff\u2019s arm with trembling hands. \u201cWhere\u2019s Mama?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t know,\u201d he responded slowly, his steady gaze holding my own.\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019ve been searching the area for the past hour. It\u2019ll be dark soon so I\u2019ve called in the county helicopter to search with a spotlight down around the lake. The brush there\u2019s pretty thick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Darkness came quickly and the helicopters\u2019 searchlights shone over the wooded areas. My fear mounted until I heard a shout, \u201cThere she is!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mama descended from the cab of an RV parked in Bobbi Jean\u2019s driveway. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Mama asked.\u00a0\u201cWhat\u2019s that thing up there?\u201d She pointed to the searchlights above.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama, why were you in Bobbi Jean\u2019s RV?\u201d I asked, the pain from my fingernails digging into my fisted hands keeping me from shouting.<\/p>\n

\u201cWaiting for your Daddy to come drive me over to see Mary, but just like always, he\u2019s late.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I gathered my sweet mama into my arms, alternately rubbing and patting her back, more to comfort myself than her.<\/p>\n

Mama was diagnosed with Alzheimer\u2019s. Not wanting my parents to live apart, I moved them both into an assisted living center with a memory unit. The doctors assured me it was the best thing for their safety and welfare, but the change seemed to exaggerate Mama\u2019s confusion. Every time I visited, Mama had taken all of her clothes from the closet and folded them on her bed for packing.<\/p>\n

She greeted me by announcing, \u201cI\u2019m almost ready.\u00a0When are we leaving, Linny?\u201d She leaned over, whispering confidentially, \u201cYou know this place really isn\u2019t all that nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

After I reminded her that she had already moved, Mama grew very quiet, gazing into space; not talking as I hung her clothes back in the closet.\u00a0Then, on the next visit, the scene would replay, until one day I snapped and shouted, \u201cMama!\u00a0Listen to me!\u00a0You have moved and you are not to take your clothes out again!\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant roared, \u201cYour mama has Alzheimer\u2019s and you must accept that she will never be the same.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Looking into Mama\u2019s stricken face, I began to cry and then to sob as her arms encircled me. She began to rock me back and forth saying, \u201cNow Linny, you\u2019ve got three weeks before the prom.\u00a0Dry those tears, wash your face, put on some lipstick, and you just flirt your way into getting that nice Smith boy to ask you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our eyes met, and we laughed and hugged through our tears.<\/p>\n

On my next visit, her clothes were still in the closet.\u00a0However, on the bed were two boxes; one contained her books and family pictures, the other her shoes. She greeted me with \u201cWhat time are we leaving?\u201d<\/p>\n

This time I took Mama and the boxes to my car, drove around the block, and took her back to her room. \u201cNow this<\/em> is a much nicer place,\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cThat other place was dullsville!\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant quieted as I entered Mama\u2019s reality, finally accepting that I could not change it.<\/em><\/p>\n

Each evening at twilight, Mama cried and begged for her baby, until the nurses gave her a life-size doll. With my own eyes, I could see how she must have cherished me as an infant.\u00a0It made me realize that, in raising my own children, I never seemed to have the time for that level of tenderness.\u00a0 The demands of being a single mother, working full time, preparing dinner, cleaning up and trying to finish one more load of laundry, exhausted my time and energy.<\/p>\n

The elephant stood still as I suffered my regret.<\/em><\/p>\n

Gradually, Mama stopped talking.\u00a0She developed pneumonia and was sent to ICU, which, ironically, was the old labor and maternity ward of the hospital where I was born. Late one night, as I held my bedside vigil, I saw her eyes were open and she was looking at me.\u00a0I gently took her face in my hands and asked, \u201cMama, do you know who I am?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes blinked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama, I\u2019m Linny, your daughter, and I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without hesitation she responded, \u201cAnd I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mama died that night.<\/p>\n

The elephant bowed its head in silence, as I cherished the final memories.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n

Daddy was inconsolable after Mama\u2019s death.\u00a0He searched endlessly for her; asking nurses, entering the rooms of the other residents, and becoming agitated when he thought she was hiding from him.The elephant stepped back into the room saying, \u201cHis reality is altered.\u00a0It\u2019s time to find out why.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

We sat in the last two available chairs in the waiting room of the doctor\u2019s office.\u00a0Immediately, Daddy began singing in his best baritone stage voice:<\/p>\n

\u201cOOOOk-lahoma, where the wind comes sweepin\u2019 down the plain,
\nAnd when we say
\nYeeow! Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
\nWe\u2019re only sayin\u2019
\nYou\u2019re doin\u2019 fine, Oklahoma! Oklahoma O.K.!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy,\u201d I whispered,\u00a0\u201cShhhh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d he said, \u201cSorry.\u201d\u00a0Then he began singing,
\n\u201cHey Hey, good-lookin’
\nSay, what’s cookin’?
\nDo you feel like bookin’
\nSome fun tonight?”<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy! Stop singing that song.\u201d<\/p>\n

A look of confusion crossed his face. \u201cWell, what song would you like me to sing?\u201d Looking around the room at the smiling faces I shrugged and entered his world, \u201cYou pick.\u201dDelighted, he warmed up his voice: \u201cMe me me me me meeee.\u201d Fortunately, the nurse called his name. The entire waiting room cheered and clapped as he happily exited with high fives and thumbs up from his fans. Once in the exam room, Daddy asked the nurse, \u201cWell, now pretty lady, have we met before?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s just too bad,\u201d he responded with his most debonair leer.<\/p>\n

\u201cSheesh, Daddy,\u201d I groaned.<\/p>\n

The nurse beamed with a becoming blush, leaned toward him and in her sexiest voice said, \u201cIt certainly is.\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant was rumbling so I kept the \u201csheesh\u201d to myself this time.<\/em><\/p>\n

Daddy had Alzheimer\u2019s.\u00a0How could this happen to both of my brilliant parents?\u00a0But, Daddy remained cheerful as he continued to sing his show tunes over and over as the doctor delivered the news. Not unexpectedly, he declined quickly and soon stopped eating.\u00a0I stopped by to feed him, with the same process, every day:\u201cDaddy open your mouth.\u201d\u00a0He opened his mouth and I put the food in.\u201cClose.\u201d\u00a0He closed.\u201cChew.\u201d\u00a0He chewed.\u201cSwallow.\u201d\u00a0He swallowed.And so it went, each meal, each day. My father, who knew how to do everything,\u00a0had forgotten how to eat.<\/p>\n

The elephant cleared its throat and asked, \u201cHas he?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

My parents\u2019 funerals, three months apart, left me with a loneliness so painful I didn\u2019t think I could survive.\u00a0To do so, I became numb. My son hovered over me, waiting for this pause in life to pass.<\/p>\n

My granddaughter was the one who called out the elephant in the room.\u00a0\u201cI miss Granny and Granddaddy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded, unable to speak, avoiding the elephant\u2019s \u201ctold you so<\/em>\u201d presence.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re in heaven you know,\u201d she said with all the confidence of a four-year-old.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf there is a heaven,\u201d I mumbled.<\/p>\n

The elephant trumpeted his condemnation.<\/em><\/p>\n

My granddaughter smiled, \u201cWell, if there\u2019s not, they\u2019re gonna be soooo<\/em> mad.\u201d Then as she considered that possibility, she quickly assured me, \u201cDon\u2019t worry, Nana, if there\u2019s not, they\u2019ll make one for us.\u201d\u00a0In her gaze, I saw my mother\u2019s sparkling eyes looking back at me.<\/p>\n

I lifted my granddaughter into my arms and rocked her side to side humming, \u201cThere\u2019s No Business Like Show Business.\u201d<\/p>\n

The elephant quietly left the room.<\/em><\/p>\n

 \n<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\nLinda Breeden<\/strong> holds a B.S. in Business and a Master’s degree in Human Resources. She recently retired, choosing to \u201clive life in reverse\u201d–doing all those things she intended to get around to including painting, golf and gardening while working as an inspiring writer who views the world through optimistic, rose-colored glasses. She chooses to write about the way life can be, not necessarily the way it sometimes happens.Her true stories have appeared in local publications in Atlanta, Georgia, SimpleJoy, Angels on Earth<\/em> (a Guideposts publication), Chicken Soup for the Soul: Stories of Encouragement, Redbook’s Cup of Comfort<\/em> 2009 Silver Linings national contest winner,\u00a0and various professional journals. She was a finalist in Southern Writers Magazine 2013<\/em> Short Story Contest and writes book review blogs for Family Christian.<\/em>\u00a0She is currently working on her first book. Her blog Sparklers: Lights of Grace<\/em> is at Breedenlin.wordpress.com<\/a>.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In the “club sandwich” drama of family, some things can't be ignored. Listening to the roar of that undeniable elephant in the room, we learn life lessons, in this moving short story by Linda Breeden.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,1],"tags":[110,95,100,129,25],"class_list":["post-1915","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-uncategorized","tag-acceptance","tag-dying","tag-family","tag-illness","tag-short-story"],"yoast_head":"\nThe Roar of the Elephant | Faith Hope & Fiction<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/the-roar-of-the-elephant\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Roar of the Elephant | Faith Hope & Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"In the "club sandwich" drama of family, some things can&apos;t be ignored. 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