The Phantom

I remember a night back in August at Jim Thompson’s rehab when dad, mom, and I watched the Phantom of the Opera, mom’s favorite movie. On occasion, I’d sit back and watch mom and dad hold hands as they squinted at the screen. She was absently buzzing the volume control on the side of the machine, making the volume dip and rise. I remember smiling and crying silently, willing myself never to forget that moment. Another 'Phantom' day aslo stands out. All six of us were in her hospital room chatting about everyday stuff while the Phantom played in the distance. We brought a stereo in to play some of her favorite big-brass tunes, like Herbie Hancock and others. Mom was flat on her back humming along to the music. At one point, she raised her hands as if she was conducting, and then as quickly, she put her hands over her face and began to cry, just for a spell. She then raised her hands to the music again, and continued her conducting. People have always described our family as ‘strong’. I now know where we get that strength. You can catch it in her humor, in the way she replies to questions like ‘how are you feeling’ with a simple ‘with my fingers’, in the subtle sway of her arms as she dances quietly to her favorite song. She’s still conducting her orchestra, despite it all. We stood by her when she received her diagnosis – all of us there to share in her strength. We stand by her still, ever ready to fight fiercely and take on whatever’s ahead. That, I suppose, is what you can call strength. -- J