Postcards from the Edge

My son went with me to the Post Office today for the first time.

He had carefully and purposefully made some adorable artwork for his Nonnie.

We placed it in a beautiful envelope, waited in line and he gave the money to the clerk and asked for a stamp as I had coached him.

He seemed confused, and had a tear in his eye when I gave the letter to the mail clerk and turned to leave.

"They take it to your Nonnie's house for us, and she will get it in a few days and be so happy."

Without skipping a beat, he ran back and asked the clerk to put a stamp on him so they could send him to his Nonnie's house too.

Slave Labor

My son is obsessed with all things "Why."

Of course I knew this day would come, and frankly, I love it.

"Mama has to go to work today"

"Why?"

"So I can make some money"

"Why?"

"So I can buy groceries and clothes for us"

And the 'why's' continue until bedtime, but I don't mind because I know his mind is a sponge, and the memory of an elephant.

Today he woke up, grabbed a quarter from his piggy bank and brought it to me while I was making breakfast.

"Mama, can I have some cereal?"

Wow, he did make the connection.

I am so impressed that I run to call his Granny and tell her that she has a brilliant grandson.

Her reaction convinced me that either I am already starting to give my son money issues, or I am running a sweat shop in my own home.

Nice.

Horse Whisperer

Whispering Generation to Generation

 Leo and his Grandpa

 Leo and Isaac

It's hard to say goodbye

I traveled to see a very wise woman today. 

As I drove, my mind wandered, thinking of all the matriarchs before her and the ones yet to step into that role.  The strength of her generation, the doors that their words and actions opened, and all the families they have kept together through their wisdom and gentle reminders of what is truly important.

86 years is a long time, and hers has been an amazing life filled with funny stories, obstacles, blessings, a strong faith, and an incredible legacy.

As we all sat surrounding Alice, we grappled with the impending loss. 

It was bittersweet reminiscing about family histories, learning more about each other, and though we all supported her decision to end dialysis treatment and go with the grace she always wore on her sleeve, the silent moments still gave way to unease, and the inner struggle to find the right words became glaringly more apparent with each moment.

How do you say goodbye to someone knowing it will be the last time, at least in this realm, that you will see them?

Sure you say “I love you,” but often that is just to comfort yourself.

What words can give them comfort?

“How are YOU?”  I asked half knowing it was a ridiculous question, but still wanting to deal with the elephant that was not only in the room, but riding me piggy back.

“I am good,” Alice said and then looked deeper into my eyes knowing that it was safe to share more.

“I am at peace with my decision. . . I know where I am going.”

Though part of me wanted to probe further, I didn’t. 

Again, the thought of more questions, felt selfish.

I asked about her favorite bible passage, knowing that my knowledge of it was minimal.

She made a reference to that fact that in the end, we are all connected, and there are no divisions in heaven.

Knowing that this concept exists in most religions, and spiritual teachings, I wondered why the fight here has to be so contentious.  In the end, the rhetoric gets stripped away, and we all see the blaring similarities and underlying truths that unite us all.

As I stood to leave, she showered me with loving compliments, and said “see you later.”

“When you feel it is your time to go, don’t let us hold you back, and please send us a sign to let us know that you are ok,” I said, hoping that she would receive my words with the spirit I intended.

I have no doubt that we will communicate again, though I know it will be in different ways than we have in the past.

And I know that again, in her grace, a big part of her decision is based on saving her family from knowing her any other way.

 

 

Don't look at her with those eyes

I will never forget the stillness in my mothers voice warning that bad news was coming.

"Honey, I have to tell you something. . .

Everything is ok. . .

. . . but I was just diagnosed with C-A-N-C-E-R . . ."

Always the consummate protective mother, she was trying to downplay even this news so I did not worry.

But still, as the words drifted from her mouth, entered my ears and bounced around in my head for several seconds, all I can remember is going numb.

My eyes scanned her face for any trace of emotion, but seeing none, and realizing that she was waiting for my response before reacting, I gathered myself together quickly- maybe too quickly.

Words failed me, but something inside of me said DO NOT look at her with THOSE EYES.  

You know the eyes I am referring to- the ones covered with apologies, pity, and sorrow.

The 'poor you eyes', and the 'I am so sorry eyes' that everyone wears when they know you are ill.

If I could do nothing else to ease the moment and the challenges ahead, I made a personal promise to myself that day that I would never look at her through or with those eyes.

Instead, let me be the one to shield, and protect her from hearing the whispers, seeing the fingers pointed her way, and stop them from simply turning her into 'that person with cancer.'  She was and would always be so much more than that no matter what happened.

In the waiting room, I wondered what the doctors would tell me.  I felt sick to my stomach, but optimistically hopeful- whether that was wishful thinking or not, my mother always taught me; Don't worry until you have to.

As I sat listening to her doctors tell me that my mother had - at best- three years to live, almost with the same inflection and interest someone tells you what they had for dinner, I was enraged.

How could they be so callous, so matter of fact, so compassionless?  (And no, I don't buy that they have to be detached, objective, and all the other counter-intuitive teachings many physicians learn in med school).

How could they dare attempt to predict when someone's life would end, and say it outloud so that it may become self-fulfilling? 

Most importantly how could they choose to deliver such news with my mother sitting by my side? 

How did they think that might affect her psyche, her day to day choices, her mind, body and most importantly, her spirit and strength needed to fight against this insideous disease?

As my the knot in my stomach grew, I heard my son's laughter, and was jolted back into reality remembered that this flashback had began while I was watching my mother and son playing together.

I turned, joyfully to see that my mom had managed to find the magic spot under my son's chin that sends him into the most intoxicating laugh that can melt the heart of a 50 year old man who doesn't even like kids.

I smiled watching my mom. . . enjoying her grandson. . . 8 years after our doctor's visit.  With 5 years of additional blessings that were not supposed to be hers, and 2 1/2 of those years spent enjoying her only grandchild.

I smiled and thanked all the powers that be by every name I have heard others invoke. 

Maybe sometimes people need to have something to fight against, or remind them to appreciate every day, to be good to others, and to always marvel at the little things.

Or since that is who my mother was already, maybe that is the reason that she has been able to surpass everyone's expectations throughout her life. . . and not just her doctor's.

 

Jewish Mothers

I went to visit one of my many Jewish mothers this weekend for my brother's wedding.

Yes, I am blessed to have two Jewish Mothers - one my adopted mother (for lack of a better term I have yet to coin), one my birthmother- (also needing a newer pen name), one Jewish Mother-in-law from Russia, and one step-mother- Jewish in spirit  (since she was married twice to Jewish men, the last, and current one being my father.)

So naturally when I saw these on the counter in the room I was staying in, I had to wonder;

1) Where these a proclamation to or against me?

2) What kind of person must I have been in past lives to have so many Jewish Mother's this time around?