Eleanor's Love | survivethewalkingdead.com


I was looking at my red face, blue eyes all red and pouring the tears down my cheeks. My blonde hair which usually I had so much pride of, was horribly messed up, as if it had not been taken care of for weeks. What I saw was a picture of despair and rebellion against myself, the world, and everything else in and around it. I tried to regain some composure, done on my service uniform and started walking towards the Commandant's office, the letter on my hand.

The next morning I was put on a plane to the US. Some 12 hours later a cab dropped me in front of my house at 12456 West Lake Rd. at my home in Cleveland, OH. I climbed the three steps to the front porch and rang the door bell. Looking around I noticed everything looked kind of neglected.Even my mom's beautiful rose garden was overgrown with weeds.

After ringing the bell again and getting no answer I started digging frenetically in my bag, looking for my spare key. Fortunately I found it, unlocked the door and walked in. The living room was in the worse shape I have ever seen it before. "Mom, …" I Yelled. "Dad, …" I shouted louder. No answer. I climbed the stairs up to the main bedroom. No one. Went in all other bedrooms, nobody there either. I started to get really frenetic. Went back downstairs and looked everywhere. No one home. I began to fear that something real bad had happened .. I ran back out of the house like a mad woman and headed for the next door neighbor's house. Mrs. Sinclair must had noticed my arrival as just when I was getting ready to knock on the door it opened. Mrs. Sinclair was standing there, speechless, like she was frozen. After a few terrible seconds she stepped forward and hugged me so very tight I felt breathless. Her chest trembling, tears rolling down her face.

She managed to control her hard crying for a while and told me my mom had passed away of a massive heart attack six months back. More uncontrollable crying, now I had joined her and the both of us were hugging and crying as if our world had crumbled down on us. It really had, on me. She said my dad had changed from a nice, intelligent man into kind of a zombie who took long walks, spoke to no one anymore and lost a lot of weight very quickly. She said one day, about two months ago he didn't come back home in the afternoon like he usually did, so she called the police and told them about it. Cleveland police organized a wide search in all of the western suburbs and with the description and picture of him they finally found him one evening, sitting at a bench in the Metropolitan Park next to the Zoo. He wouldn't know his name or where he lived, so they took him to a County Rest Home. Mrs. Sinclair gave me the places' address and phone number. I thanked her warmly for her great help and headed to the house.

The following morning I called the Rest Home and explained the situation and who I was and said I was going there right away. I arrived at the Home about twenty minutes later. A nurse was expecting me and lead me to the garden on the back of the building and pointed to a tall, slender old man sitting on a white garden chair. He was motionless, staring at a small wooded area in front of him. The nurse grabbed my hand and started to walk, almost pulling me so that I'd keep step with her. We walked around and stood right in front of him. He moved his face in our direction and just stared at me silent. The nurse told him that I was Eleanor. "Eleanor? He said in a muffled, tired voice; who is Eleanor?" He asked. I couldn't believe he didn't recognize me. I had sent him a recent picture of myself in my last letter. The nurse said: "Mr. Sumter, Eleanor is your daughter!"

I ran to him and hugged him very hard and kissed his face repeatedly, tears running down my face. "It's me, daddy!" I cried. "I came to take care of you. No one will separate us anymore. I'll be by your side every day of my life." I kept hugging and kissing him. The nurse said she would leave us alone and asked me to call her if I needed her. She walked away and sat at a swing bench, by the front door of the Home. I grabbed a white, plastic chair a few steps away and dragged it over right in front of dad. I sat on it and grabbed dad's hands. I started to talked about our lives, and of how much fun we had together, and all the beautiful holydays we had spent happy together. Daddy just looked at me. For a while there, he seemed to have a spark of memory. He said: "You are my Eleanor, the joy of my life?" "Yes, daddy, … and I jumped to his arms," ​​… Yes! I am your Eleanor and I love you so much "…

I asked his doctor next morning about dad's illness. He said that my father was very different from other patients with the same illness, and he seemed to have a good potential of a small regeneration and that with the right kind of love and stimulus he could lead a near normal life for a good while yet . He said also that my father had fell into that deep lethargy due to the loss of his beloved wife and also by not having me around at the same time.

The next day I had the house cleaned and straightened up and also I hired a gardening contractor to redo the garden and made sure they would take extra care with mom's rose garden.

I quit the Army and cashed in on my pension to make sure daddy and I would have a good, happy and comfortable life for as long as God would want us to. I also hired a nice, clean and devoted private nurse to help me take care of dad.

The following week I took daddy to the cemetery to visit mom's tomb. We walked, arm in arm, until we got to it. There was a picture of my mom, Judith, on the tombstone and the inscription said: RIP

Judith M. Sumter * 12-24-1930 – + 1-06-1990 – Beloved wife of Wilhelm Sumter and Mother of Eleanor Sumter. – "Come on dad, let's sit here", I said leading him gently to set on the stone and asked: "Daddy, will you do me a favor? … Will you read to me what's written on the tombstone? He proceeded In a low, trembling voice, reading slowly what was written on it. After he finished, I said on a low, loving tone of voice: "See, daddy? Judith M. Sumter was your wife and she was my mom and I am your daughter. After a few seconds he answered slowly: "I know Judith was, no, she is my wife and I am her husband and you are our daughter." I hugged and kissed him on the cheeks again an again. "Yes, daddy, you are absolutely right! And no one shall ever separate us ever, ever again!"

He slid over closer to the inscription, rubbed his right hand slowly and tenderly on Judith's name and said: "Did you hear our daughter my love? Yes, you heard that right. We will take good care of each other and we will love each other ". And then he kissed her picture gently and long. Then I got up and did the same. I said to dad: "Daddy, from now on we'll come an visit mom every week, at least once a week. Is that alright with you?" I'm with you all the way, my sweet daughter ".

My dad improved a lot. He was able to remember lots of things. He seemed very happy and he even put on weight. We kept his treatment at home. His doctor came to see him once in a while and he was amazed on how much my dad improved. Once he said that he knew my father could improve but he said he did not expect him to improve that much.

I guess love has a fantastic healing power.



Source by Gerson C. Borges

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