driving

Vain Train

Posted on by Christine

In 2019, I was in a dark place. Looking back, I think various circumstances triggered this, including the separation between my parents and myself. At the time, they lived about five minutes from me. Both were deteriorating, and it was pretty apparent that they should not have been living in their home independently. Neither of them would surrender their post. In 2018, my dad had lost his privilege to drive.

Months before his driving exam ordered by the doctor, he had told me that he would move out of their home and into an assisted living if he failed the test. He promised me beyond a doubt that he would do this. My mom gave up her license without a fight because, on some level, she realized she couldn’t manage this skill. At that point, he was running out doing errands every day for the two of them.

The day of the test came, and he was confident he would get through it with flying colors. I didn’t because he had taken me on a hair-raising scary ride just before that. He kept confusing the gas pedal for the brake. And as I suspected, he failed every single component. I felt terrible when he arrived back home looking defeated.

The sympathetic side decided I would help him out until they moved into a new, safe environment. After all, he had told me that he would not continue to live like they were if he didn’t pass. I had told him to call me if he needed something, and I agreed to get him to the stores he liked to frequent. I rearranged my work schedule to make this possible. So began my job as his chauffeur, and when I asked about moving out, the conversation went from looking into it to an absolute no.

When I realized he wasn’t going to give in and make some changes, I began the hunt for a driving service he could use. Interestingly, my daughter discovered GO GO Grandparent, a company specifically designed for those who need rides, especially older adults. There was much grumbling about this at first, but then I started getting the texts he didn’t know I signed up for, indicating he was calling for assistance. That seemed to be going along well, coupled with my help for shopping trips.

The months were slipping by, and there was still no indication that either one of them was going to give up their stance and find other living arrangements. During this, I made a stop at my credit union. The teller greeted me and said,

“Oh, I just saw your dad.”

“He must have called for a ride,” I said.

I pulled out my phone and saw no alert that a car had been summoned. When I looked back up, her lips were twisted into a strange shape. The song by Fleetwood Mac, Tell Me Lies, Tell Me, Sweet Little Lies, began to play on the overhead speaker above me. Coincidence? I think not.

“Uh, well….”

“Did you see a driver pull up, or did he drive his car?”

“UH…” Again with the face contortions. She knew he was not to be driving as I had told her this previously. The bank was a daily stop for him, and the staff all knew him quite well. At that moment, I realized I was being played. He had told me over and over he had not been driving. I believed him and hadn’t had the heart to remove the car so soon.

I just nodded at her and glanced over at my daughter. Back in the car, a tracking device was purchased online. I decided not to accuse him and hear more of his deceit, but I would catch him in the act. I called the police department to ask if this was illegal, and I was told it wasn’t technically okay, but if it were being done to stop harm to the community, it could be overlooked.

He had been asking me to take his vehicle on our trips out together, so the next day, I told him we would do that. His first request was to stop at a hardware store. My daughter stayed back and placed the device in the backseat. We finished up our outing and returned home to watch the app on her phone. His conscience must have been bothering him because I got a text requesting a driver. I started to wonder if I had jumped to the wrong conclusion. I hadn’t.

A few days later, a notification came up showing his location. Feeling anger like I hadn’t ever felt before, I got in my car and parked right next to his at a store. We always went out on Fridays together, so why was he doing this on a Thursday? What was so important that he needed a day before going with me?

I found him in an aisle, and I pretended we had stumbled into each other. I wanted to see how far he would keep up the act.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in total surprise. “I thought you were babysitting on Thursdays.”

Wow. He had even planned this according to the schedule he thought I had.

“I had to come to pick up something. How did you get here?”

“I called for a ride.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you did. I am parked by your car. You drove here, and you aren’t supposed to be driving.”

This was when he tried to get past me in his motorized cart. He was done listening or talking to me. Not moving out of his way, I said,

“You lost your license to drive. The doctor took it away. If you come home with me, I won’t call the police if you agree never to do this again. Otherwise, I am reporting you.”

I was so hopeful that he would cooperate, but that’s not how it went. He told me to get out of his life, and I called the local police station.

Before the officer arrived, my dad was back at his car with me standing guard next to it. He wanted me to move so he could drive away, and I told him no. Then, he was willing to let me take him home now that he saw he had pushed past the point of no return. I stood my ground all the more and told him we would let a third party decide what to do.

To my horror, his license was run through the system, and it showed it was still valid. The physician had not taken the time to revoke it through the state. All I could do was stand there while he smiled at me to indicate he had won. I walked away from him and didn’t look back for a year and a half.

I would see him driving from time to time, and I found out that no matter how often his doctor was told about this, she failed to follow through. He told family members he was taking ‘back roads’ to be safe. I saw him on more than one occasion speeding down a heavily trafficked road during rush hour. When I would hear sirens in the neighborhood, I would wonder if he had caused an accident, and I silently vowed to testify against him in court. At the same time, I worried that I was an awful daughter.

This anger and depression combined created hopelessness in me. I had internalized my parents’ behavior as a sign that they never really loved me at all. Their unwillingness to trust my judgment revealed years of stubborn thinking and hard-heartedness. Then I began to think of all the times I had allowed so many people to treat me like this. I started to convince myself that life had no meaning, which led me to have thoughts of not wanting to be here anymore. I would ask God to send a train to hit my car as I crossed the tracks while driving home from work every day. I couldn’t bring myself to take myself out, but I knew He could do it.

In May of 2019, my mom went into the hospital unresponsive. She ended up in hospice at home. (The repair of my relationship with both of them began then, and that’s another story for another day.) While lying with her eyes closed, I saw her stirring. I walked over and leaned down close to let her know I was there.

She opened her eyes, and they focused directly on mine.

“Are you here in vain?”

The tone was not her voice. It penetrated my entire chest and felt like a physical blow. I heard what she had said, but I leaned in more and said,

“What did you say?”

Very physically weak but determined, she emphatically said,

“Are. You. Here. In. Vain?”

These dark, black eyes were looking for an answer. I felt myself swallow hard as I was faced with an ugly truth.

Somehow my thoughts of wanting to end my existence were being exposed. My big secret was coming out to confront me. How could that be when I hadn’t told anyone?

Quickly, I said, “No.”

She put her head back down on the pillow, closed her eyes, and quietly said,

“Good.” And back off to sleep she went.

In that split second, I realized that I didn’t want to have an attitude of living just for myself. If I no longer existed, what would I miss out on? What future person could I not go on to bless if I wasn’t around? I didn’t want to carry on my parent’s legacy of selfishness. I realized I was still here for a reason, and I was only accountable to God.

Romans 14 states: It’s God we are answerable to-all the way from life to death and everything in between-not each other. (Message)

I let my parents’ poor, selfish decision-making make me feel unworthy, and my reaction was to turn inward to self in a different way. Keep God the focus of your life, listen to the leading of that still small voice and do what it says. This will keep you from buying a ticket to ride the vain train.

The train tracks I crossed daily…

Driving You Crazy

Posted on by Christine

Teaching your child to drive isn’t mentally easy.  Images from days gone by have a tendency to flash across the mind while she clutches the steering wheel for the first time and you sit like a slug in the passenger seat.  For instance, you  quickly recall when she could barely stumble across the room while hanging onto the edge of the couch or used an end table to support her wobbly legs.  Other mental scenes emerge of her unable to use a spoon or suck liquid through a straw. How was I supposed to let her drive my vehicle up and down streets where potential hazards awaited us at every turn? I would have rather put myself on a roller coaster to be flipped upside down non-stop for an hour. Yet, I had to maintain my composure because all good parents want to see their children succeed and mature into independence.  I wanted to remain calm, I really did.  I didn’t want to repeat the experience I had with my dad when I was learning how to drive.

It would begin before we left the garage.  His discomfort was evident as I turned the key and a battery of instructions and inquiry would follow before we even budged.

“Did you check the mirror?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your permit?”

“Yes.”

“Is there gas in the car?”

“Yes.”

After satisfying all of his questions, I would barely move into reverse when he would say,

“Keep your foot on the brake! I don’t want to go flying down the driveway.”

I would go at snail speed and it was still too fast for him.

One day, before I got the key into the ignition, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I am not driving with you!” I said defiantly.

My mom and I had gone out that afternoon to practice, and I noticed a remarkable difference.  She let me start the car, back out, and barely said one word except,

“Oh, look at that beautiful bird in that tree!”

As we drove through the familiar streets of our town, she would say occasionally,

“I wonder what they are building over there.”

For her it was a chance to get out of the house away from cooking, cleaning and laundry.  Once in awhile she would say,

“Why don’t we turn left up at the stoplight?  I haven’t been down that road in a long time.”

It became a sightseeing tour for her, and I just drove the car without worrying over every maneuver I made.

If I took a right when she said to go left her response was,

“Oh, well, you will get it next time.”

My experience with him was a sharp contrast, and his nerves were getting on my nerves, so my outburst was to make the negativity stop.  He said quietly,

“Let’s go.  Just start the car.”

It wasn’t said in an angry tone but one of realization that he was not helping the situation with his worry.

I began our nightly trek to a place where we could practice parallel parking and how to park on a hill.  We tried to get it all in before the sun set on that pre-summer night.  There wasn’t much traffic as I made my way back toward our home.

“Turn left up here,” he instructed.

I was feeling so much better about our time together now that I was sensing he wasn’t so anxious.  I had relaxed and he seemed much more at ease as well.  Unless he was faking it, and I couldn’t tell the difference.

As usual, I turned right instead of turning left.

“This is right, Chris.  I said left.”

“Oh, well,” I said parroting what I had heard my mom say.  “I will figure out a way to turn around.”

It wasn’t as easy as that.  I had turned on a road that was leading us forward with no option of a U-turn. We found ourselves slowly creeping along what appeared to be a private road not meant for the usual drive through.  There were beautiful manicured lawns surrounding us on both sides.  I took notice of this and other details because the speed limit sign had clearly stated we could only go 10 miles per hour.   It became quite evident where we had landed when we both saw a large green sign with white lettering.

STATE HOSPITAL

“What?  We are at the state hospital?”  Now a whole new type of fear descended upon him.

“We are?”

“Yes.  You have driven us right into the looney bin!”

I had a hard time not controlling my laughter at his reaction.  He has a tendency to lose all decorum and ability to be politically correct when terror strikes.

The road slowly wound around to the front of the facility where a few people milled about the grounds while orderlies stood by in white outfits.

“Lock the doors!  Roll up the windows!” he ordered.

This was back during the time before our cars mechanically did all of these things for us.

I glanced over to see his eyes wide as he kept them trained on all the residents roaming.

As if on cue, a tall male began walking alongside the passenger side of the car which brought my dad’s mood to a full tilt panic. The car door seemed like a paper thin barrier between him and this stranger.

“Hurry up and get us out of here!!” he yelled.  “This guy is racing us!”

“I am driving what the speed limit says, ” I retorted.  After all, I didn’t want to break the law by speeding, for heaven’s sake. And, I wasn’t the least bit afraid.  I was not going to allow my speedometer to go one inch over the 10 mile per hour mark.

We came to a crosswalk where there was a stop sign.  All of my new training was kicking in. There was no way I was running through it, and a complete stop was what I was taught to abide by.

The guy walking near the car stopped with us and peered in the window at my dad.

“Get us out of here!” he said again.

“I am!”

“It is getting dark!  We need to get out of here!”

There was another man standing by the curb who appeared to want to cross in front of us.   I sat waiting for him to make a move.  But he remained frozen.  Just staring straight at us.  His eyes looked glassy and fatigued.

“Is he going to cross the road?” I asked more to myself than to my passenger.

“He looks like he wants to kill us!  JUST go!”

“What if he steps in front of me?  I might hit him!”

A few seconds went by with all four of us glancing at each other.  Through gritted teeth, my dad made his final plea,

“Go!  Right now!  Just go!”

I slowly edged forward as the two residents watched us glide by.  Neither moved a muscle.

“Keep going to the left!”

I did what he said and soon we found ourselves driving out the exit and back into his comfort zone.  He stayed quiet the entire ride home as I tried not to giggle.

When we walked in the door, my mom asked,

“So, how did she do?”

He opened the palm of his hand and said,

“She did just fine but I lost a tooth.”  He had been clutching on to it the whole way home.

“What?!”

“I bit down so hard while she was driving that I broke my tooth.”

My mother and I looked at each other and started to laugh uncontrollably.

“She drove me to the state hospital!” he said coming to his own defense.

“She should have left you there!” my mom said.  “Why do you worry so much?”

Now that I have had my time sitting in the seat of the car to be the instructor, I do understand his fear so much more.  Isn’t this true when we go through situations in life?  We become more understanding and compassionate when we have the experience for ourselves.  My dad had been taught how to worry somewhere along the way.  We aren’t born in that state, but it is a learned response. The bad news is that it is highly contagious.  The last thing I want is for my daughters to live life from a weakened mental place instead of a bold and courageous stance, so I am aware of it and try to correct myself immediately.

I decided recently to take a drive to where this event occurred. Most of the buildings stand empty with windows boarded up. Long gone are the men and women who walked the halls with whatever was afflicting them.  It struck me how something that once seemed so ominous had now become obsolete. A place that brought my dad such a nightmare moment no longer would illicit such a reaction.

So what bothers you today that may not even exist tomorrow?  What are you fretting over that may not even be a threat at all?  A famous passage tells us that the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, can guard our hearts and minds if we allow it.  It’s really up to you whether you want to live a life of calm or one of torment.  Heaven isn’t withholding it from you.

In this day and age,with stress running at an all time high, it is imperative to know that God loves you and is always ready to help when life is driving you crazy.

 

 

(One of the original empty cottages at the state hospital)

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