Memoir / Chapter 7
Dinner was a noisy affair. Our eldest son, Jonathan organized and hosted the whole thing, setting up large tables outside his house. John married Mara, a Kryptonian from the bottle city of Kandor and purchased the old Potter farm. He built onto the house after his third child. He got a late start with his family, but once he did, he made up for lost time, fathering 6 children. Ashley was his youngest. To say that she was a bit of a surprise would be the understatement of the century; John was 60 years old when she was born.
Clark and John talked and cooked at the BBQ. They were engrossed in conversation, absently tossing a ball out to the twins now and again as they talked. They were probably talking about crops and soil rotation. John and his family—the ones that stayed on to be farmers--actually worked the land of our farm, as well as his own.
We named him Jonathan after Clark's father, of course. Clark had read that some cultures would honor their dead by naming the next child in the family after the recently departed. Clark liked the idea, so we adopted it as one of our own.
I watched as they youngest children all played. Over the course of dinner my children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and a variety of 2nd and 3rd generation nieces, nephews and cousins all showered me with kisses and hugs. I can't remember the last time I had so many of my family members around me at one time.
"Hey mom." John sat down next to me and kissed my cheek.
"John, thanks for organizing this 'little' shindig."
"It's my pleasure. How are you feeling?"
"Great. A little tired—but I feel great."
"Ashley came talked to us this afternoon."
"Now, John, you know how emotional she gets. You shou—"
"Mom, listen, you don't need to tell me how emotional Ash can be—I know, believe me. But hear me out, please?"
"Okay. I'll listen. But what makes you think that you can change our minds?"
"I'm not sure that I can change your mind, I just want you to listen with an open mind and think about what I have to say." He was always so intense. He reminded me of my father-in-law in that way.
"O-kay."
"I listened to Ashley recount the conversation that you and dad had with her. I understand your reasons for not wanting anymore transfusions from dad, but what about one of my children? I know that you would be genetically compatible and my children are half Kryptonian from me and full-blooded from Mara. My children don't have the same sensitivity to the effects of Kryptonite because of my blood, and because they are second-generation Kryptonian."
"I'm not sure I follow. What difference does being a second-generation Kryptonian make?"
"Sammy has been studying it, over at Wayne Industries and he's noticed that each successive generation has less sensitivity to the effects of Kryptonite. Maybe it's due to the mixture of human blood."
"Has Sammy been conducting trials to see these specific implications? What if it doesn't work?"
"What if it doesn't? What have you got to lose?"
Well, he had a point there. I didn't have anything to lose. I had lived a full life. If it didn't work, then it didn't work. I was dying anyway.
"There's one more thing I want you to consider."
Oh, no, here it comes—the catch. There's always a catch—a price. There's just no cheating death. What horrible side effect had they discovered?
"If you do decide to do try this, and it doesn't seem like it is working—would you consider cryostasis like Chloe?"
I know that shock must have registered on my face. It had been so long that Chloe had been in stasis that I had almost forgotten. Her daughter Moira had convinced her that it would be a good idea until a cure could be found. That was 70 years ago.
"You don't have to answer. Just think about it. Now, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have a little bit of a selfish motivation, but really I am thinking about dad. Mom, he would absolutely lost without you."
I didn't say anything. What could I say?
"Mom, do you know what humans have that Kryptonians don't?"
Disease? Death? A red sun? A planet of their own? It was an open-ended question. I wasn't sure where his question was leading. My head swam with questions of my own. I was still thinking about Chloe. Was frozen statis such a good idea? Bart was long gone. Would she want to come back if he wasn't here? Soon even her great-grandchildren would be long gone, and her successive descendants wouldn't even know her. I turned my attention back to John. He was saying something extremely important.
"Hope of an afterlife. Think about it. No matter what religion they ascribe to, every religion has a central theme and that is that there will be a next life. Call it evolution, or science, or whatever, but Krypton no longer had religion by the time of its' destruction. Maybe that was its' problem. We'll never know."
I nodded, urging him to continue. I still wasn't sure where he was going with this.
"Men and women on this planet manage to go on with their lives when their partners die because they hope they will see them again. Maybe in their youth their faith isn't strong, but by the time they reach the twilight of their lives, they start believing again—even if it's a thin hope. Dad doesn't have that."
"How can you say that? Your dad—"
"Mom, I don't know how it all works; parallel universes, alternate dimensions, Heaven—any of it. I'm not saying he doesn't have faith in a Higher Being, but he doesn't know how it all works—none of us really do. What I know is that he's never going to die. He can't cling to a hope of seeing you in the next life if he isn't going there."
I was speechless—almost unheard for me. "John." I finally found my voice. "It's a lot to take in. I have a lot to think about."
"I know mom. I know." He hugged me, and kissed my hair. We sat for a long time, wrapped in each others' embrace, outwardly silent. Inside, my conscience screamed with the information download that my son had just laid on me.
