Learning to Like Yellow: Lessons from My Mother

By Karen E. Wass

No human being is a blank slate. We all have a story, a past, and a shared history. Lolo is the matriarch of a large family struggling to exist in a harsh world while protecting a potentially damning secret. This is a captivating story about an extraordinary woman who lived with resolution and who died without fear.
When Lolos death becomes imminent, she knows that she must not only deal with dying but also with the unfinished business between her and her daughter. Secrets in a family are never a good thing. Will the daughters secret keep Lolo from doing what she needs to do? After years of struggle, might truth and understanding come just in time for both mother and daughter?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491722121

Karen E. Wass

K. E. Wass is retired. She taught high school before entering the real estate business. She was a leader in real estate for thirty years before selling her firm to an international company. She has a master’s degree in psychology, with an emphasis on death and dying. She and her husband live in rural Southern California with their Jack Russell terriers, Chase and Toby.

Book preview

Beth’s Story, Part One, 1994

My hand moved from under the covers and instinctively hit the alarm’s stop button, but the insistent chiming continued. It took awhile for my brain to engage and realize that it was my cell phone ringing, not the alarm clock buzzing. Suddenly, understanding was replaced by fear. I began to tremble.

Nothing good ever comes from the shrill ringing of a phone breaking through the quiet fog that occurs between sleep and waking. Friends do not call with invitations; family, with concerns about your absence from a recent gathering; or coworkers, with office chatter. No, calls at this time, just before the light, are from hospital staff, emergency personnel, or others—and they never have good news.

The person on the other end of the line who interrupted this morning’s quiet was my sister. Mom is asking for you to come now. Can you hurry?

I barely took time to think as I muttered, Be there as soon as I can.

Even in my stupor, I knew not to question my sister’s sense of urgency. As I coaxed my body from the warmth of my bed, my head began to spin—and then it ached like it was shattering. This is it, girl. Time to pay the piper, was all I could think. Zombielike, I grabbed clothing from my closet and stuffed my unwilling body parts into what I hoped were the correct openings. It was easy to choose what to wear, as my closet was filled with mostly blue, my favorite color. I perfunctorily kissed my still-sleeping husband and threw myself into the car for the drive to my childhood home.

Mom had been ill for several months, her body slowly breaking away from her mind after years of giving those around her all she could. Progressing from organ to organ, the breakdown moved with precision through what had once been a vibrant and dynamic body. The asthma that plagued Mom throughout her life and the medication she had taken to treat it initiated her body’s breakdown. Now, the damage was so extensive that it was beyond the ability of modern medical practices to halt. While the physical deterioration was tragic in and of itself, it was made even worse because my mother’s mind was as acute as ever.

As I drove, I began to pray what became an almost mindless mantra. Let me be strong enough fell from my lips and kept time with the tears falling down my face. I knew I would need all the strength God could give me to do what would be asked of me. It would require facing my own demons as well as facing the considerable opposition from my father and my siblings. I reached over and turned off my cell phone. I wanted no interruptions to what I hoped would be a successful attempt to harness a courage I wasn’t sure I possessed.

I have often asked myself, in the years since that day, why I was thrust into the role I had played in the last days of my mother’s life. I was the disjointed, different one. I had very little sense of being a member of the clan, nor had I any relationships inside the family circle that made me heir apparent to Mom as the provider of strength in difficult times. I wasn’t even the oldest. As a child, I had spent my days on the outside, immersed in a book in my room, out with friends, or—especially in later years—buried in my work. I never saw my behavior as a choice. I saw it as a necessity. It was necessary to protect the secret that, if accidentally disclosed, might destroy my relationships with all of those closest to me.

Memories of my mother flooded over me as I drove. Some caused me to smile; some made the tears to fall even harder. I only wished I knew her better. She was not one to talk about herself, and I had always thought she held many stories that she chose not to share. The time I spent with her after she became gravely ill gave me the opportunity to ask her about certain things, but I never mustered the courage. So what remained was what I could remember or what others told me.

Suddenly, from the innermost depths of my memory, a thought struck. During my high school years, I read everything I could. Ernest Hemingway became one of my favorite writers. I had placed a line from his A Farewell to Arms in my diary for further consideration. The line reads, The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. Was God offering me a chance to be strong in my personal broken place, among my family? Only time would tell.

Lolo’s Story, Part One, 1938

Lolo was a bright, round-faced, blue-eyed college girl. She had the type of full figure that was favored in the late 1930s, and she always wore her hair in soft curls that enhanced her face. Popular with her peers, she was likely to attend most of the social events held on or off of the small Kansas college’s campus. People considered her to be pretty. She always dressed in the latest fashion and usually wore blue to match her eyes. Her ability to sing placed her in the limelight. She kept busy performing at town events, either as part of the choir or solo. Her parents both came from families who held education in high regard; they supported her activities as much as they could. Her father, a salesman, was on the road much of the time, so Lolo’s relationship with her mother was the primary one. Methodist, Democrat, and looking to move up the social ladder, hers was the epitome of a 1930s-era urban family.

Jay was of solid German stock, from a large family living on a wheat farm in central Kansas. Handsome, a talented mechanic, and popular with his peers in the closest town, he represented the hardworking dirt farmer. Catholic, Republican, and content with their lot, his was the epitome of a rural family. Living from crop to crop, praying for rain, and depending on nature for success, they played the hand they had been dealt with little hope of changing the eventual outcome. Leaving the farm to work as a mechanic in town gave him the opportunity to receive a steady paycheck, which set him apart from many around him.

The invitation to visit her cousin Betty was exactly what Lolo needed. Her mother was not feeling well again, and her father was not expected to return home until the holiday since sales had slowed and he needed to make some more calls.

Gee, that will be swell. Mother can take me to the bus if you can pick me up. Try to plan a party, as I would love to see some of the old high school pals, she wrote in response to the invitation.

Sure. Mother always enjoys having a group, so I’m okay with your plan, replied Betty.

Lolo hugged Betty once she got off the bus, and the two walked the few blocks to the house, chattering like jaybirds about the goings-on in their lives since they had last seen each other. They were like sisters, each coming from a family made up mostly of boys. They shared all their secrets in full trust.

I have quite a swell group coming tonight and a new radio for entertainment. I know we will have a gay old time with our friends, announced Betty when they arrived at the house.

The parlor was full of chairs, and lemonade and fresh-baked cookies were displayed on the dining room table when the guests started to arrive. Hugs and happy greetings filled the room, along with music from the radio.

Dave, Betty’s brother, was there with a friend whom Lolo had never met. His name was Jay. Dave told Lolo that Jay wasn’t much for parties but that it would be good for him to socialize a bit. Dave also told Lolo that Jay worked too much. The two had become friends when Jay repaired Dave’s car, timely and affordably, on several occasions.

Lolo saw him the minute he entered the room and was struck by his thick brown hair, his brown eyes, and his mischievous smile. He wore a fedora, which was cocked slightly to the side, giving him a carefree look that she found attractive. As she looked his way, her eyes caught his. His direct gaze caught her off guard. Interpreting his look as an invitation, she walked over to where he stood. Dave stepped between them and, putting his arm around Lolo, introduced them—not seeming to realize that they were oblivious to his existence. Finally, Lolo and Jay nervously touched hands in greeting, and then Dave moved on to mingle with other guests. Jay did not drop Lolo’s hand, seemingly frozen by her ice-blue eyes.

They stood for several minutes until she finally spoke. Let’s step out to the porch. The stars are bright tonight and the swing is most comfortable.

He followed her. They dropped to the swing as sounds from the party inside filled the air around them. She snuck sidelong glances at him as they talked. He was so handsome! Again, she was taken by his soft brown eyes, his smile, and the deep warmth in his voice. He was trim and muscled from the physical work he did. His physique afforded him an air of effortless strength and confidence. She particularly noticed his hands, which looked strong and capable—not only fitting for his work but also instilling confidence.

Beginning the pattern that would come to define their next years together, Lolo took the lead, telling Jay about her life and her family. Then she peppered him with questions about how he knew Dave, where he worked, and his family. They talked until the radio music ended and the guests began their slow exit.

Jay rose to leave and asked Lolo to walk with him to his car. As they walked, he offered to drive her home the following day so she did not have to ride the bus, which would save her a significant amount of money. She gratefully accepted. The two made arrangements for him to pick her up after church the next day.

Lolo returned to the house and was almost attacked by Betty, who wanted to know what she was thinking spending her entire evening outside and ignoring her friends. Lolo smiled and thanked Betty for her concern, but Betty could tell that something had changed Lolo tonight—something had begun that was beyond anyone’s ability to stop.

He’s really charming, and he has a car of his own. He works at the gasoline station, so he has his own money too. He’s going to drive me home tomorrow so I can save the bus fare. Isn’t that grand? Lolo gushed to Betty.

Oh, Lolo, your mother is going to have a fit. He is not a college guy, and Dave says he has to return to the farm at harvest. You better be careful, dear.

I plan to, but he seems so nice and thoughtful. I know he’s older, but I can handle it. Don’t worry about Mother. She can be difficult, but I’ll convince her.

Lolo barely slept that night as the anticipation of seeing Jay again grew in her mind. How to handle the situation wasn’t going to be quite as simple as she had told Betty. Still, Lolo could not change the way she already felt.

Rising early the next morning, Lolo bounced out to the porch and sat on the swing until she heard Jay’s car coming down the tree-lined street. She gazed at autumn’s full foliage. The leaves fluttered in the chilly morning air, but their fluttering was nothing in comparison to Lolo’s pulse, which was racing so hard that it felt as if her heart would push through her sweater. She had dressed in her best baby-blue matching set and hoped that her hair would stay curled. Trying to appear nonchalant, she picked up her tattered suitcase and stepped to the edge of the street. The car had barely stopped before Jay had swung around, grabbed her suitcase, and opened the passenger door. Their hands touched briefly, and Lolo was again struck by the intensity of the feeling.

I’m glad you are ready, said Jay as he gunned the car and started down the street. It’s supposed to storm this afternoon, so I want to get you home before the road becomes impassable.

I wanted to be ready, as I so much appreciate your taking me so I don’t have to get the bus, she replied softly.

They rode on in silence for many miles, each unsure about where to start but certain of where they were going. He drove without taking his eyes off the wheel; if he did, he would lose control of more than the car. She sat with her hands in her lap and looking straight ahead until they got to the edge of Salina. He slowed the car, since traffic in town was heavier, and finally looked in her direction.

Would you be willing to go to the show with me if I can get off work early next weekend? he asked cautiously. My sister and her guy could go with us. It would be a hoot.

I need to check with my mother. She has been ill, but if she is continuing to feel better, I am sure it would be okay. Can I write you and let you know? If I mail a letter tomorrow, you will know in time.

Great. I’ll plan to pick you up at four on Saturday unless your letter changes our plan.

The letter arrived, the plan was executed, and the four had a marvelous time that entire weekend. Jay spent the night with a cousin and picked up Lolo on