Brian Levitt's Mom
by Caroline Wolfe
Brian Levitt* played baseball. A centerfielder, he was not the best or the worst player on the team. His mother commented once that she liked my bleacher seat, so I recommended a store where she could buy one. After that, we sat side by side at all the games.
Brian Levitt's mom and I liked to cheer our boys on in the same way. She was full of positive comments and encouraged him to "stay in the game." I liked that. When other parents were groaning about mistakes made on the field, she and I often yelled out things like: "don't give up," and, "the game's not over yet."
Two middle-aged women, comfortable in our padded bleacher adapted stadium seats, we enjoyed the baseball hours for what they were worth. She smiled a lot. I felt calm and peaceful around her. As we watched our boys play, we talked about all sorts of things—the heat, the rain, the way to get teenagers to do the laundry.
"In middle school, each of my kids got a basket and directions for the machines," Brian's mom said with such ease that it made me want to try that too. She was more experienced than I was; with three in college, Brian was her last child at home.
One Saturday, Brian hit a triple. His mom jumped up, and we all yelled for the base runners. It was a fine moment, when a team pulls ahead and everyone feels so happy.
"Too bad his dad isn't here to see that!" I said, smiling at my friend.
When the team settled down and the bleachers quieted, Brian's mom leaned close to me. "Brian's dad died," she whispered.
There was a moment of silence while I registered my surprise, and she realized that yes, she had actually said it out loud.
"How long?" I asked even as I thought I shouldn't have asked.
"Three years ago." She let out a heart-weighted sigh.
I felt I had permission to continue.
"Did he die suddenly, or did you have warning, like with a long illness?" The question felt right.
"Well, that was the hardest part," she said. Then, she told me about his kidney disease and about how he finally got a transplant. After going through dialysis, medical treatments, and finally donation, his body nearly rejected it, but he lived.
"We thought we beat it because he was healthy for five years," she said with a wistful gaze as though remembering those happy years when every moment felt like a gift.
But then, he caught a cold, got pneumonia. "In the end, he went very fast," she said.
Brian was thirteen when his dad died.
I looked at her attractive face, this forty-something woman with a terrific smile. Sitting next to me game after game, who would have known what she had gone through? There was no bitterness in her, no sense of outrage. And there was Brian too, playing ball. How easily he could have given up. It is a testament to them both that he was out there giving his team all he had.
"At first I just followed the daily routine, one foot in front of the other. But ultimately, I just had to show my kids that I could still be happy."
She said she is alone but not lonely and that happiness is a choice.
She said she's grateful for the extra five years, especially for Brian.
"The guy who donated his kidney was devastated," she said. "But I told him, you gave us time."
"Yes," I agreed it must have made a big difference.
"Brian said he feels his dad's presence on the field. He says his dad is with him always."
After she finished her revelation, we sat together in silence. I felt close to her. I wanted to remain her friend even after the season was over, but I knew that probably wouldn't happen. Brian would move up to the next league and she would sit on a different set of bleachers. I knew she would be smiling and spreading good cheer to those around her. For another season, she would simply be "Brian Levitt's mom."
*Note: Brian Levitt is a pseudonym used to protect the privacy of the family.
BIO: Under the pen name CAROLINE WOLFE, the author writes about love, marriage, motherhood, and self-discovery. She earned a MA in Writing and works as a college writing teacher and academic advisor. Her essays also appear at Surewoman.com. She is working on a novel of interlocking short stories that take place over one weekend at a country inn. Contact Caroline at: carolinewolfe@yahoo.com