Last Day of Being My Mother

I was sixteen the day my Mother left me, and there are not many days I can remember as vividly as that day; every detail etched in my mind.

When all of her training about the early 1900's and nursing was complete, she received her letter from the board. The letter stated when and where she was to report and whom she was to replace when stepped into the room that she would never come out of alive. The next week, a package showed up outside our room in the compound and inside was a simple white dress that she was to wear the next day for her transport. I don't remember her saying much that night; she just sat on her bed staring emotionless at her letter for most of the evening. When I finally said to her that I was going to bed, her response was the same as any other night, "Alright, I will see you in the morning." I did not sleep for hours. I spent most of the night watching my Mother's shadow on the floor and hoping that she would refuse to go. When she turned off the light, I attempted to sleep without any luck; it was interrupted by dreams that turned into nightmares waking me. Thoughts of my Mother and me living outside the compound where the only "goodbye" we would have to face would be when I left for school or her for work, an ordinary life.

I have never felt as powerless as I did that night.

When morning came, I woke to my mother barefoot, in her white dress that fell on her knees, her brown hair draped over her shoulders. The rest of her skin was bare, even her left ring finger that up this point held a simple gold wedding ring. You are not allowed to have anything in your hair, or anything other than the clothing provided or it may interfere with the time transporter. So I guess that also meant her wedding band that now joined it larger match of my father's ring that was on her dressing table. I got dressed with silence as my only companion and the knowledge that in a few hours, I would be an orphan and would be starting my own training. The quiet was interrupted by a knock on the door; I open the door to see two men ready to take us down to the transport room. I held the door for my Mother then closed is behind myself before starting our walk down the brightly lit hallways. I fell in line behind the two men and my Mother, who all walked without a word being exchanged. I never knew that silence could be so deafening. I wanted to scream, grab my Mom to tell her she still could refuse, even then, there was nothing I could say or do, in her head, she no longer belonged to this time. Maybe she was right, with all the training; your mind is more part of the past than the present.

After we had made a series of turns that led from one long hallway to the next, we passed through a few locked doors that were opened by our escorts' keycards. When we finally stopped, we were standing at a door that was different from all from the rest. Once again, one of the escorts stepped forward, this time he had to use the key card and enter a passcode on a keypad on the wall. As you would expect, they do not want just anyone walking into this room, so the passcode changes every time the door is opened by sending new code to a computer on the other side of the compound only to be known by the next set of escorts. When the door clicked unlocked, we all stepped inside. The room that was small and scarcely lit; a dark gray covered the walls and floor that made my mother stand out in her white dress. One of the men walked over to the control panel and started getting ready for the transport while the other walked over, to what looked to be an old bank vault door. As the machine began to come alive, he turned the wheel to pull the door open; when it opened, the white walls and lights that were hidden inside blinded me. After a moment, the escort by the control panel nodded to the one that stood by the door who motioned to my mother so that she would step into the transporter. She slowly stepped towards the door; then she stepped forward for a moment with her head down, she turned to face me, and our eyes met. We held our silence for one long moment then she broke it with a few words, " Please remember, if you don't stand for something then you may just fall for anything." She turned back around and stepped into the vault. I did not see her eyes again. All I saw was her standing in the room of light, in her white dress, bare feet, and long brown hair lying on her back. As they closed her in, with a twist of the wheel on the door, the humming of the transporter begin to grow louder.

Now this is where my memories start to fade into a dream- like a haze. Just as quick as the silence was gone, it was back once more. The machine turned off, and the room was still. The man at the door opened it once more finding a motionless body on the floor; eyes rolled back in her head and her hair no longer entirely in its place but scattered over her face. I remember standing there, looking at my mother when the escort by the control panel started to come towards me. I took a step back, but he still continued coming towards me saying something, but my head was spinning too much for me to understand a word he said. The next thing I do remember was that my hand was throbbing when I was running down the hallways, away for the dark room, away from the reality that it held within it.

I later learned the reason my hand was hurting; it was because I had punched the man that walked towards me and broke his jaw. The next day, I was moved into a new single room in the compound and the feeling that I was alone grew stronger. A week after my Mother's death, my training began. Even if I did hated the fact that I was just another tool for the people who sealed the fate of both of my parents now had the same power over me, I welcomed the distraction that the training provided. Ever aspected of my training was focused on World War I and World War II, on all sides, German, Japanese, French, Jew, and American. I spent all my time studying textbooks, going to classes, and going back in time as an observer or "ghost" to learn and see every moment. I have seen every gruesome death of D- day and heart-wrenching moment of a mother holding her child as they walked into a gas chamber. I have watched people in hiding, afraid for their lives. I have experienced the speeches that were given to the Germans that justified everything they did. I understand why everything happened the way it did, no matter if it was right or wrong. The bitterness was familiar to me. I have experienced loss and been what everyone else wants me to be because "I was born for it." I was living a life I hated.