Waves

Joanne Parker was pronounced dead several hours ago, early morning on 11th October 1990.

But this isn't a story about Joanne, no. This story is about Stanley Parker, her youngest son.

Some people who barely knew her at Chatham would say she was an angelic soul. His grandpa would say she was an amazing daughter. His father would say she was a free-spirited wife. His sister would say she was a permissive and carefree mother.

But Stan saw her for exactly who she was - an imperfect and flawed human being and an even more flawed mother.

Stan's first memory of his mom was at Chatham's famous beach. She would take him there every day, the town being a coastal town, and let him run around in the sand and get his hands dirty and his feet wet. The waves would come crashing, dragging along with them the fierce winds.

Ideally, it was supposed to scare a little five-year-old boy, but it delighted him. His mom had always told him ''Listen to the winds telling a story and the waves dancing along the shoreline."

She put on his blue sun hat and allowed him to get accustomed to the beach. He loved the beach dearly, as much as he loved her.

He believed it would last forever. Those calm and peaceful moments, her echoing laughter along with his excited ones and the wet footprints on the sand. He was wrong.

When Stanley turned 7, his mom began helping him get accustomed to surfing, giving him regular lessons and exposing him to all kinds of waves. She taught him to balance on his blue and white shark board and tricks like cutback, punt, duck dive, and barreling.

She was right, He was a natural surfer and he glided through the waves like a pro. He was only 8 and he was already bagging 2 annual great lakes surf fests for 6-12 and 3 surf pro events. His family was so proud of him and he was proud of it himself.

He was interviewed for the local news channels many times and appeared in newspapers and was called the 'Surf prodigy'. His mom cut out each of the articles, framed them, and hung them over the fireplace. It was the Parker family's pride and joy.

He considered making it a career, his passion for surfing making him never miss out on a day in practice. His mom being the fun-loving free spirit she was, spurred his interests on. She replaced his Surfboards with new and professional ones as he got older, and with every injury at practice, she told him "It's just the ocean sweetheart, It could never truly hurt you. Love it and it will love you back."

When Stan was 10, his mother decided to pack her bags and leave his dad, him, and his sister alone at Chatham. She had decided that her life of adventure and spirit were more important than her duties to her family.

Stan cried terribly and begged for her to stay, but his cries fell on deaf ears. She left him there, her auburn eyes smiling pitifully at him from under her sunglasses.

His dad said nothing because he knew that nothing would stop her. She had chosen her path and she would stubbornly follow it.

With his mom giving up on him, for who knew what reasons, Stan felt the world around him turn gray and shatter into pathetic pieces. Everything he once knew, his sense of comfort, his only happy place, everything ripped away from him.

His dad started drinking one too many drinks, His sister became more irritable and condescending and his grandpa went quiet and distant.

Stan knew that the absence of his mother would affect his entire family direly, but he would be affected the most. He knew that too.

He was reminded of it too, quite painfully you could say, at every parent-teacher meeting, every mother-son movie, every little joke, every mention of her name. Sometimes it was the little things too, like the smell of sunshine, randomly walking into her room, whenever his dad cooked pancakes - her favorite food.

But over time, it became a part of his life, a missing piece that was gathering dust, but somehow he was okay with that. He had made his peace with it and intended on living with this until he died.