My Dad’s Urgent Call Left Us Stunned – Something Was Wrong with Mom

My Dad Urgently Called My Brother and Me: ‘Something Strange Is Happening to Your Mom — Come Save Her’

“Your mother is experiencing an odd circumstance. You must save her. Kimberley rushes to her childhood home after receiving an urgent call from her father. She is terrified as her thoughts race through terrifying possibilities, but nothing can prepare her for the startling reality that lies within.

My gut turned to knots when I saw Dad’s name flash across my phone screen.

Dad never called me directly; Mom had always been in charge of that. I sensed immediately that something was off. Totally incorrect.

“Kimberly…” Dad’s voice faltered in fear, “You must collect your brother and come right away! Your mother is experiencing an odd circumstance. You must save her.

Before I could ask him any questions, he hung up. Dread took hold of me as I sat at my desk and stared at my phone. Regardless of the challenges she faced, Mom was a Wonder Woman who could accomplish anything. Right now…

I was now unable to stop wondering if I had just received the call that everyone fears.

Mom, what had happened? A heart attack? Had a stroke? Vehicle collision? I jumped to my feet and grabbed my purse. As I hurried out of my office, I screamed a voice command into my phone to call my brother Matthew.

The phone kept ringing before going to voicemail.

I rushed to my car after telling my employer I had to go. Finally, when I turned on the engine, Matt answered.

“There’s a problem with Mom, Matt. Dad is going crazy. Come over to their place with me.”

He answered, “On my way,” with a tone of urgency in place of his customary casualness.

As I crossed town, time seemed to drag on forever. An eternity passed between each red light. All of the sluggish drivers ahead of me could have been parked.

In the twenty-five minutes it took to go to my suburban boyhood home, I swear I aged ten years. My keys jangled tunelessly as I turned off the ignition, my hands shaking.

Even though I was here now, there was a part of me that couldn’t bear to go through the front door and confront Mom about whatever had happened.

But I was powerless.

I rushed in the front door, almost slamming into the welcome mat with my heel.

“Dad? Mom?” I made a call.

I was struck first by the stench of stale takeaway and then by the sight of complete disarray. Like a game of Jenga in the kitchen, dirty dishes towered in the sink. The sofa table was covered in empty Chinese food cartons. My father was sitting there, crying, in the midst of everything.

My father was crying, and I’ll say it again because it still feels unreal. It was the first time I had seen Dad cry in forty years.

Matthew came up behind me, panting a little. “Hey Kim! Mom, where are you? What took place?

When he too saw our father crying, he came to a complete halt. We shared a gaze that spoke more about our common horror than words could possibly express.

“Dad?” I walked over to the sofa and stepped over takeout cartons. “What took place? Is Mom in the hospital?

Dad’s face was blotchy and crimson as he glanced up at me.

“Hospital? No, your mom has lost her mind.

Matthew and I looked at one other bewildered. We were both probably wondering if Dad had finally lost it.

My brother answered cautiously, “Crazy how?” in the same tone he used when his toddler threw a fit.

Dad made wild gestures at the chaos surrounding him. “She left after packing her stuff! Alongside Janet! “On vacation!”

The ensuing hush was deafening. You might have heard a dust bunny sneeze, and considering the condition of the house, there were most likely a lot of them there.

As comprehension emerged, my pounding pulse gradually calmed. Would it be improper to chuckle? Because all of a sudden I wanted to.

I spoke slowly and deliberately, “So…” “she’s not in the hospital?” I said.

“No!”

“She’s not in danger?”

“No!”

Dad sprung to his feet and began to pace the messy living room like a tame beast. However, this isn’t typical! She is always present! cooking, cleaning, and general maintenance. She doesn’t simply walk away. She’s not like this. She is behaving irrationally.

Then something clicked inside me—not really fury, but a quick, lucid realization. When everything just makes sense, do you know what I mean? When will the disparate parts you’ve been observing for years come together to make a whole picture?

“Dad,” I muttered, “Mom isn’t making this ridiculous. Yes, you are. She recently returned from a well-deserved vacation. You know, she’s more than just your unpaid housekeeper.

“What are you talking about?” He paused his pacing to look at me. “She loves taking care of me!”

Matthew took a step forward and spoke in an extremely forceful tone. “No, father. She doesn’t clean up after you because she loves YOU.

Dad’s jaw dropped. “But she never complained!”

“Because she thought she had no choice,” I said, gesturing to my phone. I decided there was only one way to resolve the situation now that I knew exactly what was happening.

I put it on speaker and dialed Mom’s number.

I noticed that Matthew’s eyes mirrored my own conflicted feelings: laughter, worry, and a hint of remorse for taking a bit too much pleasure in this.

I could hear the joy in her voice when she responded on the third ring. “Kimberly! Is the purpose of your call to shout at me? “Is your dad going crazy?”

A smile appeared on my face. “Oh, he’s completely spiraling.”

Mom let out an exhausted sigh, but it wasn’t her typical one. “I thought so.”

I could hear seagulls calling and waves smashing in the distance.

There was a brightness in her voice that I hadn’t heard since childhood. Do you recall how your mother sounded when you were a child, before life burdened her with all of its obligations? She sounded like that now.

“You know what?” I glanced at Matthew, who gave me a sympathetic nod. “I’m paying for another week with Matthew. Remain longer.

“Really?” Mom let out a gasp.

“NO!” sputtered Dad.

Matthew and I both said, “YES,” simultaneously.

The speaker echoed Mom’s laugh—not the courteous laugh she used at church socials, but her genuine laugh. “You kids are my favorites.”

“Mom, enjoy the sunshine. When you return, we’ll see you.

Dad looked at us with a look of betrayal on his face as I hung up. “What did you do?!”

Simply, “We set her free,” I said.

Matthew gave his father a shoulder pat. “Time for you to finally learn how to use a washing machine.”

Have you ever seen someone in their sixties attempt to learn basic life skills? The following two weeks were, to put it mildly, instructive.

Dad’s eggs were burned. In the laundry, he made his white shirts pink. When he tried to reheat leftover spaghetti in a metal container in the microwave, he almost ignited a fire.

Every time he called Mom to ask for assistance, she would reply with a fresh picture of herself—walking on the beach, relaxing by the pool, and holding up a fruity drink with a small umbrella.

She texted, “Figure it out, Tom,” “See you soon.”

Mom’s shoulders were relaxed, her eyes were smiling, and her skin was glowing with a soft tan when she eventually returned home. Dad was standing at the doorway, looking at her as if he had never seen her before. Perhaps he was.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

With a knowing smile on her lips, Mom put down her suitcase. “I missed me too.”

After that, everything was different.

Dad took the effort to clean the floors, wash the dishes, and do the laundry in addition to helping with other household tasks. More significantly, though, he began to view Mom as more than just his caregiver.

The tasks weren’t the only thing involved. It was about gratitude and collaboration. About keeping in mind that his wife was more than simply a support system; she was a whole person.

I’ll leave you with this: My mom served her family for forty years. She discovered on one vacation that she was more than just a wife.

And after a terrible reality check, my dad realized that he had to take care of the house as “the man of the house” as well.

I know there are many of you out there going through this right now, but if you’re the one handling everything, take a break.

And what if you’re the one observing someone else perform all the tasks? A marriage should ultimately be a collaboration, so step up before they step away. A one-woman show, no.

When I come now, I usually find them in the kitchen together, either Mom reading a book while Dad folds clothes or Dad cleaning dishes as Mom shares her day with him.

It’s what marriage ought to have been from the beginning.

What about Mom? She now goes on an annual trip with Janet. Dad has learned to cope, but he still doesn’t love it. After all, he wants Mom to be happy and can now take care of himself.