Take today to jot down five memories that you would like to never forget about 2011.
~ Reverb 11 prompt
- 1 -
The end was near, and yet with every passing hour, it seemed painfully far away. I am not a natural hand-holder, in the metaphysical sense. Quite antithetically to my mother's nature, I don't do well in a setting where I am called upon to nurture and comfort. I am painfully awkward and ill-at-ease in this environment. Uncomfortable and unsettled. But it was my father lying in this hospice bed, the man I loved before any other, admired more than any other, felt in my heart more deeply than any other. And so there I stayed, running for coffee or sodas, something to read, the current day's paper with its crossword puzzle. I was the hunter for our little tribe, while my brother and mother were the gatherers, holding one-sided conversations with Dad, tucking an extra blanket around his unresponsive frailness, asking him - three times a day, like clockwork - if he would take a bite for them..."Some scrambled eggs? A bit of applesauce? How about some chocolate pudding, yum yum yum!"...not expecting a response, maybe holding onto a little piece of hope for one, just the same. But there was a moment. I found myself sitting by his bedside, trying to find the words to tell him what he meant to me without feeling...I couldn't help myself...self-conscious and silly. And then it hit me. I grabbed my cell, pulled up YouTube, and held the phone close to his ear as Bill Withers sang him one of our favorite songs. "Lean on me...when you're not strong...and I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on." A single tear fell from his closed eyes, making a path down his rough, dry cheek. Thinking I was imagining things, I turned to my mother and brother, who were watching, too. He knew. He heard me. And my heart's most desired hope is that he understood, that he took a moment's comfort.
- 2 -
We spent weeks mourning my father's death by celebrating his life. There were three services in two cities and multitudes of people in, out, here, there, calling, writing, posting. Even as the experience was immensely meaningful, the duration of the "events" proved emotionally exhausting. He passed away on June 5th, and we held the final service on Saturday, June 18th - four days from what would have been his 72nd birthday. The next day was Sunday and the family members who had come in from out of town were making their way back to their homes. It was also Father's Day, ironically enough, and so before hitting the road, our daughter and son-in-law asked if they could take us to breakfast. They arrived at the house bearing a gift, not entirely unexpected, given the occasion. But when that gift turned out to be news that our first grandchild was on her way...well, let's just say there were yet more tears. But these were happy, cleansing, energizing tears, emanating from a place of pure joy and delight. It was, for me, a seminal moment of perfect familial serendipity.
- 3 -
A whole bundle of moments make up number three. Moments spent traveling and adventuring with my life's partner, learning new and amazing things about the man he is constantly becoming, feeling more in love with him with every passing glance. His following me to Kentucky during the end of Dad's illness just because he knew I'd need him, even if I couldn't ask him. His planning of our return visit to New England - this time, Maine - months in advance, knowing I would spend the time in a state of building anticipation. His agreeing to a pre-Christmas weekend in Columbus, with the sole purpose of shopping, shopping, eating, and more shopping, and being the greatest sport in the world about all of it, making the best of every single minute, until I'd have to say it was a highlight of my holiday season. From a weekend in DC visiting our daughter, to a trip to Charlotte for football and friends; from tailgating in Morgantown, to weekends at Glade Springs and the Greenbrier; from trips up the road, to walks down the way. I can't explain it, but this year, every road we traveled led us closer to each other. It's quite possible our relationship will never be the same - in an absolutely positive way - and I'll cherish this collection of moments for that, above all else, for the rest of my life.
- 4 -
November 10th. It actually started in August, right around my birthday. In an effort to get serious about my health (at my age! ha!), I decided to make an appointment for a full physical. I made a list of things to discuss with my doctor, and with thoughts of a grandchild to play with and hug and cuddle, smoking made the cut. Then came September and October and their incumbent, incessant hacking up of a lung on a nightly basis. Not all traditions are good ones. This one? Sucks. Every year. All the while, I was - of course! - still smoking. Sleeping on the couch, living on 5 hours of sleep on a good day, annoying everyone in my wake...but still smoking. Until one day, it all just clicked for me. As it has to do, for any person addicted to anything. It has to click on a personal, "this is my decision" level. And it did for me, until not only did smoking make the "Dr. Convo" list, a very specific "Chantix" made it. Fast forward to November 10th, and a full on medical work up with a new doctor I really liked a lot, and leaving the office with a prescription in my hand and a sincere desire to quit in my mind. And now fast forward to today, December 28th...where you'll find me a little proud and a whole lot thrilled - profoundly grateful, even - to be seven weeks smoke free as of tomorrow. The change in my overall attitude, outlook, sense of self has been rather dramatic, I have to admit - that's a bonus I never anticipated. But I cannot fathom ever going back.
- 5 -
There's been a transition for me this year. I went from a job-life I loved but was ready to leave behind to a new job-life I love and am ready to grow into for the long haul. But there's a very real possibility this wouldn't have - couldn't have - happened but for a random moment, when I hit send on an email, sending my resume to a hand full of local folks I believed to be kindred spirits, of a sort. It was a whim. A shot in the dark. A wild stab. "Hey! Here I am! If you hear of anything that fits, I hope you'll keep me in mind." Shortly thereafter, I got an email from one of them. And then another, from the same one of them. Electronic communication led to "let's sit down and meet, face to face," and so we did. Never let it be said that an act of kindness can be too small to make a difference. Because of her openness to new things - including people! - and her willingness to help and her genuine heart, a door opened for me. It didn't happen immediately. But when it did happen, it was the right door. At the right time. I've gone from feeling happy but stagnant, busy but less than intellectually stimulated, to feeling part of something wonderful, on the cusp of being amazing. I'm back in my career element, and it's rewarding in all new and different ways. All because of one moment, that led to another moment, that led to yet more moments, that will lead to still more moments, as yet to be defined.
And let's be honest.
Truly: is there anything in life more enticing than the anticipation of moments full of memories yet to be made?
_______
* Title quote by Cesare Pavese
