Marjorie's Gifts To Me

Marjorie (from this point on known as Mom) became my Mom when I was eighteen years old. It is no exaggeration to say that she is responsible for the woman I am today because she taught me all about love and how to live my life.

 

My natural parents were seriously lacking in parenting skills, and I had never been told by them that I was loved, cherished, or wanted.  I knew my mother loved me, but she was fighting her own demons, which she conquered by taking her life. The less said about my father the better.

 

Around the time that my mother died, Mom's three sons were leaving home for college, the military, and a new home. Mom had always wanted a daughter, and I, though I didn't know it at the time, wanted, and even more needed, a mom. We clicked immediately. One of her sons, my friend Cliff, asked me if I'd stop by to visit his mom now and then after he left for college, and I did, bringing cookies I had baked with me. That was Mom's and my first laugh together. My baking skills are minimal at best, while Mom's baking skills were the best. Gracious as always, Mom thanked me for the cookies and even ate them! Without a word said, I knew without a doubt that Mom loved me.

Over the next eighteen years, Mom and I spent hours talking about everything under the sun. She gave me advice, whether I wanted it or not. She worried about me. She nagged me. She praised me. She tried to teach me to cook and sew, with little success, and she listened to classical music and watched foreign films with me, though she wasn't a fan of either. By words and actions, Mom loved me, and I loved her. 

 

But even more than words and actions, Mom taught me by example. Mom had a serious health problem, but she didn't complain. After my marriage, when I moved four hundred miles away, Mom would pack up her medications and fly to visit me, suitcase and boxes of medicine and equipment in tow. She was determined to spend time with me and her granddaughter and grandson.  Such love is a blessing, and I treasure it still.

 

I also treasure the life lessons that Mom taught me. Mom was divorced, but she refused to stay angry or say bad things about her ex-husband, remaining close to him until she died.  He was, after all, the father of her children, and her children are what ultimately mattered most to her.

The divorce left Mom in financial difficulties, but she never complained. She had a small alimony, and her sons helped her with everything she needed. When she would get a few extra dollars, Mom would spend them on her children or grandchildren. She made us clothes and dolls; she baked us cookies and treats. Her generous spirit inspires me on those days when I want to feel sorry for myself.

Mom grew up during the depression. She knew what it meant to be hungry. Mom often told me about living in a boarding house, and how everyone would contribute to a giant stew or soup, just like in the story "Stone Soup." Mom said that sometimes they didn't have quite enough to eat, but they always had something because they co-operated together.

 

Mom also loved a good thrift shop. She took me to many and taught me the joy of finding the perfect blouse or jacket or plate or whatever for a fraction of the cost of something new.

And Mom was honest with me always. Once, when I had a few hours to visit her, but she was already planning on seeing one of her sons and his family, she told me, "Honey, I love you as my own, but you aren't really my own, my sons are, and they must come first, so I can't see you today. But you are second after my sons. You understand, don't you?" And, while it hurt a bit, I truly did understand, and that is how I feel about my own children today--they come first, and everyone else is second.

When Mom came to visit when my daughter was two and my eldest son just eight months old, Mom noticed that my daughter did everything to keep me from my son. She demanded attention every waking moment. Mom knew this was wrong, so she had a talk with Amy, and she took her for a walk, while I taught my son to roll a ball back and forth. When Amy and Mom got back from their walk, Gavin and I were rolling the ball back and forth and laughing together. Amy started to get angry, but Mom told Amy to sit down and roll the ball to Gavin. My wise Mom taught her granddaughter that she didn't lose her mom when she shared her with her interloper brother; rather, Amy learned that she gained a companion brother. 

 

Mom's been gone almost twenty-four years now, and I miss her everyday. I miss her voice, her hug, her saying "I love you, Honey," her kumquat juice, her sewing materials. I miss getting KFC with her. I even miss her smoking. Most of all, I miss the love that she gave me for eighteen years, the love that helped heal the wounds from my childhood, the love that made it possible for me to know how to love my own children. 

 

I hope that the love I gave to Mom made her as happy and fulfilled as the love she gave to me.

 

Love you, Mom. Miss you so much.

 

Take care,

 

Kate

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Meaningful Glances Connect Us

Those of us who are sighted obtain much (I would even venture to say most) of our meaningful communication (emphasis on meaningful) through exchanged glances; in other words, our eyes talk to each other, whether we be family, friends, lovers, strangers, or enemies. In fact, though we may chatter away to one another, I submit that we convey far more to one another with our eyes than we do with our words. While our words provide facts, our eyes supply the meaning behind the facts. For instance, all lovers know that while they are catching up on each other's life with words, their eyes are undressing each other in a foreplay of glances. Formalities often precede essence.

 

And how many among us have caught someone's glance across a crowded room and known immediately what was meant? I would wager all of us. We can see love, lust, anger, boredom, playfulness, and much more--all without a translator. We rely on glances to connect us to one another, but many of us take these glances so much for granted that we don't even know how much we rely upon exchanged glances until they are gone.

 

My husband's dementia took away our exchange of meaningful glances. His eyes look at the world with a lack of connection. He looks and sees the world as a series of facts, but his emotional connection to these facts is gone. There is no look of love on our anniversary, no look of pride when one of our children graduates, no look of sorrow about our child's schizophrenia, no look of concern when something goes wrong, no look that shares anything!

 

This absence of meaningful glances makes me sad, and it also scares me. If sharing meaningful glances connects us as human beings, what does it mean when one can no longer meaningfully glance?  Because my husband no longer connects with his eyes, I find myself, when talking to him, looking anywhere but at his eyes because I cannot bear the emotional emptiness that is in them.

As we all know, nature abhors a vacuum, so I find myself looking for opportunities to connect to others by exchanging meaningful glances to make up for the absence of them in my marriage. The best are meaningful glances exchanged between my children and me and my friends and me, but I am finding that there is also great joy in exchanging meaningful glances with my fellow humans in checkout lines, on the road, in a park, across a crowded room. Though these shared glances do not fill the void left by my husband's dementia, they do take away a bit of the sting.

So, when you catch someone's glance, please take the time to smile, nod, or comment. But whatever you do, never take meaningful glances for granted because you never know when they will disappear forever.

Take care,

 

Kate

 

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24 Minutes or 90 Years--Never Enough

December saw one birth and two deaths in my circle of friends. Sadly, one of the deaths occurred 24 minutes after the birth. The tiny coffin at the funeral was heart-breaking to see, leaving not a single dry eye in the church. While undeniably sad, the funeral also celebrated 24 minutes of life. There had been a strong chance that young Chris would not be born alive, so the parents' one hope was that Chris would be born alive so that they could hold him and tell him they loved him. This hope was realized and was cause for joy in the midst of imminent sorrow. Chris may have lived only 24 minutes, but he was well loved every single second.

Frank, on the other hand, lived 90 years. He was a vitally alive, engaged person up to his death. He amazed me all the time. While Frank needed some physical help--a walker and oxygen, his mind was agile, fertile, and creative. He was always setting challenges for himself. Recently, he finished a book with no form of the verb to be. What a feat that was! If anyone would live to see 100 years old, it was Frank, or so he and we, his friends and family, believed without a doubt. Alas, an embolism, post hip surgery, brought that hope to an end. Frank's death left many bereft. His friends cannot believe he is gone. His wife is not ready to be a widow.

What did Frank and Chris have in common? Both died well loved, and both are deeply missed. Perhaps the secret to a live well lived, whether one's life lasts 24 minutes or 90 years or somewhere inbetween, is to die well loved and missed by those who love you. All the other silly things we pursue--financial wealth, awards, material goodies--are just that in the end--silly. No one cares about those things when facing death because what we all want, when it comes right down to it, is not one more dollar or one more car, but one more hug and one more chat. And, whether you live 24 minutes or 90 years, it never seems like enough to loved ones left behind.

Take care,

Kate

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Age Disappears When Like Minds Meet

Today I spent three hours with my friend, Jesus. We talked and laughed, and the time flew by. Jesus is more than thirty years younger than I, but you'd never know it when we are talking together. Age disappears when like minds meet.

Three weeks ago, my friend, Frank, died. We could talk for hours about this topic and that and not grow the least bit bored or weary. At age 90, Frank was thirty years older than I, but you'd never know it when we were talking together. Age disappears when like minds meet.

Throughout my sixty years, I've been blessed to have friends of all ages. They make my life richer with their friendship, of course, but they also make my life richer by giving me different perspectives from their generations. These different perspectives allow me to see more of the wonder and complexity of the world than I would see on my own.

When I was a child, my best friend was Jane (and we are still friends after finding each other again in our early 30's). We met in 4th grade. We were both readers, and that was our initial connection. In each other, we found someone who understood us and our love for books. We spent one summer, when we were eleven years old, eagerly searching for Narnia together, and that summer search still stands as my ideal for an excellent summer adventure, even though we did not find Narnia.

It is natural to form friendships with your peers because, for the most part, you are going through the same stages of life at the same time, and your peers can understand and share your interests and concerns. But if your friends are only your peers, you lose out on the depth and breadth, the layered richness of life. 

When I was 19, I made my first older friend, Claire, who is twenty-eight years my senior. We bonded in a class. We sat by each other and talked and talked about every subject under the sun. We've shared forty years of friendship. Claire came for a visit last April, and once again we talked about everything under the sun. At almost 89 years old, she is my inspiration. Claire grabs the world in her hands and doesn't let go until she has squeezed every drop of experience out of it. And her example encourages me to do the same.

Then, in 1979 by sheer serendipity, I met John, my best friend. He is twenty-four years older than I, with the loveliest wife and the most delightful daughter. He was a history professor before he retired, and I have only a small interest in history, but we discovered within minutes of talking with each other that both of us thrilled to George Herbert's poems and loved Roger Whittaker's singing--what an unlikely combination that is, but that shared interest began the deepest of friendships that lasts to this day.

As I grew older, I thought the time for making new friends was past, but I was happily wrong. I began teaching at a community college, and before I knew it, I began making friends much younger than I, some of them the same age as my children, but these individuals see me as a person, as a friend, not as a mom. What a treat, what a delight! I learn so much from them--it's like seeing the world through fresh eyes, and what a lovely world it is indeed.

What is the secret to friendship? A simple answer would be shared interests, but friendship is SO much more, or perhaps other, than just shared interests. Perhaps a shared search, journey, or conviction would be a better way to define friendship. But the more I think of it, the more I believe that my favorite author, C.S. Lewis, described friendship best when he writes:

     "Friendship arises out of mere Companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest or even taste which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure. The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, "What? You too? I thought I was the only one."...The man who agrees with us that some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance can be our friend. He need not agree with us about the answer."

With a full, grateful heart, I celebrate all of my friends who are ageless when we are together because age disappears when our like minds meet.

Take care,

Kate

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You Just Never Know Which Moment Will Change Your Life

Thirty-one years ago this month, I told Gordon that I loved him. I never meant to say it aloud. I had loved him secretly for five years and did not believe for one minute that he loved me too. I feared if I told him that I loved him, he would reject me flat out, and I didn't think I could handle that. No, better to be silent and take my secret love to my grave (one can be so dramatic when young).

However, my friend, Debbie, thought otherwise. She believed that I should tell Gordon and find out, once and for all, what his feelings were for me. Debbie never thought Gordon cared for me because, if he had, wouldn't he have said something during the previous five years? Debbie reasoned that after professing my love to Gordon and being rejected, I would then be able to go forward in my life without any foolish fantasy. She said I could weep and then let go of the idea of Gordon and find someone to love who would love me back. Debbie was very matter-of-fact about it and helped me plan the moment to tell Gordon.

Well, the moment started out well. I steeled my nerves and went up to Gordon.  I blurted out that I loved him. He smiled and said he felt the same way. Confused, I replied that I loved him like a man not just a friend, and he said he knew just what I meant and that he loved me too. He then made it quite clear with a kiss that made all the movie kisses seem pale by comparison.

Wow, not what I had expected at all! I had planned for every sort of rejection, but that Gordon loved me too never crossed my mind. Well, as I said, that was thirty-one years ago. Sadly, Gordon no longer celebrates the moment with me. His dementia has robbed us of that pleasure. Instead, our grown children and I celebrate the moment together each year because that moment not only changed my life forever, but it also was the catalyst for my four loves, my four blessings, my four children being born. That crazy, foolish, risky moment changed the world forever. I cannot imagine the world without these four lovely individuals in it, and each of them is extremely glad that their mom found the courage to risk being rejected that moment so long ago.

You just never know which moment will change your life forever.

Take care, 

Kate

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