If I won the lottery, depending on how much money it was, I would pay off my house, my mom’s house, my sister’s house, give each of my grown daughters 50K, put the rest in the bank, and quit my job so I could spend more time with my family, and more time writing….

I just finished my first ever 2500+ word fiction short story. I have to give credit to one of the bloggers I follow, Darryl B, of My little corner of the world, at neptunesky.com, for inspiring it. He wrote a short story titled “Christine” for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday for 1/16/2025, at thebeginningatlast9.com.

I read “Christine” to my husband and told him about NTT. He got a little excited and said he and I should find a picture on the internet to send to each other for us each to write a story about. So, we did.

Joe sent two images to me to choose from. Then I sent him three images to choose from. It has taken a few weeks longer than we both anticipated this would take, but we had Christmas, New Year’s, lots of family time and a funeral thrown in there. Plus, I work full-time and can only work on writing in the evenings and on the weekends.

But last night, we finished writing our stories. Mine is not the caliber of my husband’s writing ability or Darryl B’s, but I want to share it anyway.

The picture is an important part of the story. My photo is from Shutterstock here:

https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/elderly-couple-love-on-picnic-enjoying-2387216369

Go look at the image. With the image in mind, read the story. Seeing the picture will bring the story to life.

It’s ok to critique my story, but remember it is my first one, so be gentle. 😉 It does have an unexpected ending. 

Here goes:

The following story is copyrighted 2025 by ChatterLei Expressions….

Song of Silence

“How can I do this, Lisa?”

“It won’t be easy, but I can’t think of anyone better to speak those words” Lisa said, pointing to the folder of typed pages in CarrieAnn’s hands. “They come from your heart and will pierce the hearts of every person who is fortunate enough to be within hearing distance when you speak.”

“Lisa, thank you for the vote of confidence…and for being there for me during one of the worst moments…if not the worst moment of my life.”

“You are welcome, CarrieAnn. I am grateful for you. You’ve got this,” Lisa said as she gave her cousin a hug before heading to their cars in the parking lot of the restaurant.

“Thanks for meeting me here,” CarrieAnn said as she hugged her.

“Give Aunt Jackie a hug from me and give her my love.”

Walking back to her car, she couldn’t help but make a mental note of the colorful beauty of the flowers in the overgrown August flower beds. She caught a glance of a butterfly, gently landing on the delicate yellow rose petal. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she couldn’t help but think of her mom in that fleeting moment.
______________

Her legs felt weak and her body was shaking as she nervously stood at the pulpit. Lisa’s words floated through her mind in a faint whisper, “You’ve got this.”

I took a deep breath and slowly and deliberately let it out while I surveyed the chapel filled with family and friends who were here to pay their respects and show their love and support to us on this difficult day. Somehow, I could feel Mom’s supportive encouragement as I began to speak.

My mother, Margaret “Maggie” Jane Anderson, was born on a hot summer afternoon at Memorial Hospital in Winterset, Iowa, July 17, 1945. She was the oldest of six children, followed by a sister, two brothers, and one more girl – “our little caboose,” as she was lovingly called.

Mom was a kind-hearted, caring, responsible older sister. She was one of those sweet girls who was as kind and genuine as she could possibly be. She and her siblings had the normal sibling rivalry, but it never got out of hand, most often thanks to Mom’s calming demeanor.

Mom did well in school and had many friends. She graduated number two in her graduating high school class of 25 in 1963. She went on to college at Iowa State University, where she met my dad. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship and marriage. They were married in the summer of ‘65. They just knew they were a perfect match. Their goals in life were similar. He was a great communicator, and she was very patient and supportive of his driven nature.

I was born in the summer of 1966, Jack in January of 1968, and Jennifer in the spring of 1970. Mom did not finish college with a degree. She quit early to stay home to care for her family with Dad while he finished dental school at the University of Georgia. After dad finished school, they moved their family of five back to Iowa, where Dad opened his dental practice… John D Anderson, DDS.

Dad was active and involved in the community. He and mom were respected and well-liked. Mom was right there supporting his desire to care for the poor and needy in their town. Dad and Mom hosted a few fundraisers and food drives throughout the years. Mom was always right there with beautiful decor and a spread of food for whatever sized crowd showed up for whatever gathering was taking place to raise funds or food for our community foodbank. 

They purchased their first and only home on 5 acres. Mom loved living the country life. All three of us kids were in 4-H. We showed pigs, sheep, chickens, and horses at the fair over the years. One year, Mom even let us buy a goat to show and sell. That goat had ADHD, I swear! We could not keep her in one place for more than a couple of minutes, and her attention span was shorter than that. The family who finally bought her was excited to have fresh goat’s milk every day. It was my belief that they were going to have unsweetened milk shakes every day, instead!

Mom won several ribbons over the years for her canned vegetables and homemade pies. Her creamy pumpkin pies were the best ever. My favorite! Jennifer and I got our love of baking from helping mom in the kitchen when we were kids. Jack was lucky enough to be our taste tester. It’s a wonder he does not weigh over 500 lbs as an adult. We fed him well!

“Remember the rhubarb pie, Jack?” I asked, looking up to find him sitting on the front row with the family.

“You were probably about 7 years old and decided you wanted to make a rhubarb pie. You took Mom’s kitchen scissors out to the back yard to Mom’s rhubarb patch. I remember we named that patch ‘Spike’ after the hack job you and those scissors did to her rhubarb. Mom was not very pleased. But, she never did yell at us kids. She simply taught us a better way.”

The rhubarb pie was delicious, by the way. With Mom’s loving guidance, it could not help but be delicious.

Anyway, Mom also instilled a love of music in us. She taught piano lessons to almost all of the children in the area, including us three kids. It was required that we learn the piano before being allowed to play any other instrument. We did not always appreciate our practice time, but as adults, we are grateful for this gift she gave us.

Mom was very industrious. She could sew clothing, quilt, preserve anything, bake, cook, teach piano lessons, and have time to teach us kids about all of those 4-H animals. To us, she was a superwoman. She continued teaching many of those skills to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We were lucky to have her as our mother. Our father was lucky to have her as his wife.

Mom gathered many friends over the years. She was a good listener. She was also a natural teacher. She and her friends spent hours canning, quilting, or making bread or rolls while we kids were in school. These friends became like family. I have more “aunts” than most everyone I know. Most of them attend the same Lutheran church that Mom attends. Mom and Dad are both Lutheran, but Dad did not attend. Mom took us kids every Sunday.

After Dad retired, he and Mom loved traveling together. They took one big trip each year where they would spend two to three weeks in an exotic location, taking in the sights and sounds of the area and getting to know the people there. Sometimes, they would travel across the country from state to state, learning the history of each state and photographing as they went. Mom has bookcases loaded with books she created with photos and stories from each trip they took.

Speaking of books. Mom also created a book for each of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. These books are filled with family history, stories, and photos of them over the years. These are a treasure for our children and grandchildren.

Mom was a good example of loving and serving her family and friends. She loved our dad, which showed in all she did for him. He loved and appreciated everything about her. We are blessed to be their children and to have reached more than half a century of life with them.

I hope someday I can be half the woman our mom is.

I am holding on to this quote that Mom shared with me years ago. It is by Helen Keller: “So much has been given me I have no time to ponder over that which has been denied.”

We love you, Mom, and will miss you forever.
_________

The adrenaline-induced anxiety had completely drained out of my system as I sat with my legs criss-crossed on the couch holding my favorite Sharpie pen and my tan leather journal. I did not retreat to my room to record my thoughts. All of our family and friends had gone home or to wherever they were staying tonight. I wanted to spend the time with my siblings, but I did not want to let the day slip by without journaling my feelings and observations from such an important day, the day our mom was buried.

The day had been lovely. A warm sunny day, perfect for our mother who loved being outside in the sunshine. It is no wonder she loved the color yellow. It matched her love of the sun and her bright personality.

I still cannot believe it is true. It was not her time. Why? Why did it have to happen? It didn’t! It did NOT have to happen….

“Jack, I thought “Amazing Grace” on your sax was extra amazing. Mom loved that song. She would have been so proud and grateful to you for playing for her today. She never shied away from praising your musical ability and the you could make that saxophone sing. Just as much as she loved it when Dad would play the guitar for her. She could listen for hours.”

“And, Jennifer, your piano rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings” was heavenly. Mom was always proud of your piano playing abilities. She loved to play duets with you any chance she got. Mom and Dad instilled a love of music in each of us, which is something I am grateful for. We may not be great speakers, but we can surely sing a song or two, hoping the music will reach Mom in heaven.”

“CarrieAnn, you can definitely speak. That was a beautifully written and spoken tribute you gave at Mom’s funeral today. You did her proud, don’t you think, Jennifer?” Jack said, looking Jennifer’s way.

“ Yes, I know Mom was watching down and feeling pleased that you took to heart her favorite saying that we can do hard things,” Jennifer replied, closing the funeral program and gently setting it down on the end table next to her at the other end of the couch.

CarrieAnn leaned over to give Jennifer a hug. “I feel so relieved that the funeral is over, but I am not looking forward to tomorrow.”

Jack reminded CarrieAnn that she will not be alone. He and Jennifer will be right by her side.
_________

As it turned out, neither Jack nor Jennifer were able to go with CarrieAnn the next day. She was alone when she walked through the doorway of her father’s room at the mental hospital, where he was confined for now. The room was small with one twin-sized bed against the wall, one chair, and a desk. It was painted steril white. Dad was sitting in the chair near the table, rocking back and forth. He was wearing a white short-sleeved v-neck top and drawstring pants that matched the top. The slip-on shoes he had been wearing for several weeks were not as white as the clothing he had on.

“Hi Dad.”

He responded, “Hello. Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I came to see you today. How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting down on the foot of the bed near his chair, placing my journal and pen next to me. Had it only been a week and a half since he was removed from home? Arrested? Brought here?

I am surprised but grateful every time I am allowed inside to see my dad. I expected security to be tighter. Although, I could see through the window in the door, the security guard walking back and forth in front of the door. Maybe that was enough.

The medication they were giving Dad at the mental hospital definitely calmed Dad’s normal agitated ways. The rocking must be a side effect.

I am too old for this, nearing retirement myself. My emotions are all over the place. I am not quite sure how to feel. I am trying to sort my feelings out as I journal them. I love my dad. At the same time, I hate him for taking away my mother, my kids’ grandma. I hate myself even more for not knowing there was another gun in the house that Dad was able to get to. It was under his bed of all places.

Intellectually, I know my dad was not in his right mind when he picked up the gun and shot our mother. He had become more agitated over the last few months. And, more paranoid. No amount of medication seemed to help the paranoia. We removed all of his guns, knives, and bow and arrows because he was threatening to use them on the “intruders.” (Sometimes it was my siblings or me. Other times, it was the grandchildren). We thought we removed all of the weapons. We missed the one under his bed. Of all the places for us to forget to look!

As I opened my journal to start writing, the picture of Mom and Dad fell out. I forgot I had put it in there before the funeral. It was a happy day captured a few years ago before Dad’s Alzheimers got so bad. Mom hired her photographer friend to take some pictures of her and Dad out near the garden. The basket of vegetables that mom picked earlier in the day became the perfect photo “prop” on the blanket they spread out near the tree. Dad played a few of Mom’s favorite songs on his guitar. I love this photo of the two of them. I can see how genuinely happy they are and how deep their love is for one another.

Showing the photograph to my dad, I asked, “Dad, do you recognize the people in his picture?” He just rocked and stared emotionless at it. It was at this moment that I realized our lives will never be the same.

Our lives had already begun to change because of Dad’s Alzheimers. Now, it has an added dimension of painful emotions.

Alzheimers is a thief! It has taken our dad’s healthy brain. Now, our mom is gone. Dad is going to be locked in this mental hospital probably for the few years of life he has remaining.

I closed my journal after slipping the photo back inside between the pages, not able to express my thoughts at the moment. I stared at my dad, not knowing what to do. I feel so lost. I don’t want to leave him. I want to hug him. Yet, my dad isn’t really in there. Not really. I hugged him anyway. He was a little startled and stopped rocking for a moment. Then he started again.

As I walked out the door, I glanced longingly back over my shoulder and thought, I don’t know what his future holds, but I know my future is going to be a little less joyful. A little less sunny.

However, today, as I walked past the guard and down the long corridor to the outside door, I finally realized… I don’t hate my dad. What I do hate is Alzheimers! In a strange way, that brings me a sense of peace.