65 YEARS AGO TODAY

WAS THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING AMAZING

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad

My parent’s relationship had its ups and downs just as any marriage does. And the fact that they had children living at home for 32 of their first 33 years of marriage makes it even more remarkable. But somehow they found a way to make it work even in the most difficult of times. For many years work, raising children and daily life meant that their marriage was often last to receive time, attention and nurturing. But a deep love, devotion and old time family values ensured that their marriage made it to the empty-nester phase.

 

Being nearly 10 years older than Mom, Dad retired first and was able to settle into his new routine of walks in the park and afternoon visits with the grandkids. Mom continued to work for several years but looked forward to the day when she would join Dad in this new relaxed lifestyle of retirement. Sadly, after about a year of enjoying the “carefree” life, Dad began what would be a litany of health issues, the first of which was prostate cancer. This news sent a ripple of fear throughout our immediate family. My sister’s two girls were not even in high school yet and my son had not even started kindergarten; they were all too young to lose their Grandpa. And to be completely honest, even in my late 20’s, I was certain I was too young to lose my father. He had always been the pillar of strength and guidance for our family. As with any structure, I couldn’t imagine our family not crumbling without his steadfast support.

 

It is with much shame and disappointment in myself, that I reflect on that time and realize I never even gave a thought to what this news must have meant to my mother. I was so self-absorbed, that it never occurred to me that life as she knew it was in jeopardy. My mother had never lived a day of her life alone. She moved out of her parent’s home the day she married my father and he had been by her side every day since then. And now as she approached sixty, she was faced with losing the man that she had lived with longer than she had lived without him. One of her pet names for my father was her better half and at the very least he was her other half. Now she was forced to face the fact that their life together was coming to an end. It must have been devastating for her to learn this news and to grasp that their “forever” was, in fact, a finite amount of time.

 

Dad was subjected to many tests and then surgery. As fate would have it, that was merely the first time my mother, my sister and I would pool our strength and sit for hours in a surgical waiting room eagerly waiting for news on this man that we all saw as larger than life. The surgery was successful and other than shots and a few radiation treatments, our pillar of strength was returned to us. Again he was our strength and our beacon of hope when life seemed hopeless. But now we all lived with a gnawing notion in the back of our minds; this man was just that, a man, and he would not live forever.

 

Mom continued to work and life returned to almost normal, except for the shred of wisdom that I had gained from this ordeal. Now, when I greeted my father, I held on for just a second longer when he hugged me. And I stood just a little bit longer in the doorway and watched as my son stared into my father’s eyes when seated on Grandpa’s lap to listen to a story. The holidays were just a little bit sweeter and the unexpected visits were filled with even more joy. Now I knew that someday, some awful and unthinkable day, this would all come to an end. But for now, I was going to soak up every second, every glimpse of his mischievous grin, every chuckle and every smile that came from his lips as well as his shining blue eyes. These were moments I could no longer take for granted, I needed to revel in them any chance I got.

 

Dad enjoyed a few more years of his retirement before his health issues really began to hamper his activities and his daily life. First, the doctors found bone cancer in his knee, then there were spots in his lungs and finally, it spread to his liver. Chemo treatments, oncology departments, and medical test terminology became a part of all of our lives. Even my young son stopped asking how Grandpa was doing and began to ask how his white count was doing. He knew that a low white blood cell count meant that Grandpa could get sick very easily and we could not visit if we had a cold. But Dad was determined to fight as long as he could and to be a part of many more milestones in his children and grandchildren’s lives.

 

Dad took a day off of his radiation schedule to attend my wedding. He was so happy to see that we were finally making it “legal,” as he put it. He was present at both of his granddaughter’s high school graduations and watched his grandson enter elementary school and play little league soccer. Even in his weakened condition, he was always there for all of his family. He was there for my mother as we laid her mother to rest. He was there for my husband, my son and myself as we laid my husband’s father to rest. No matter how weak he was, he always managed to don his best suit and slowly traverse the rolling ground of the cemetery to sit graveside as numerous family members left this world. And each time, I would look at him and pray that he wouldn’t be the next one to leave us.

 

Dad’s battle lasted for about a decade. Now it was certain that his grandchildren were all old enough to really know him and have loving memories of him to carry throughout their lives. Not to say that any of us were ready to face losing him, but it was clearly time. He had aged before our eyes and was now a tired old man who found it difficult even to sit up on some days. The man who had always supported us and carried us when we could not find our own strength to move forward was now going to rely on us to carry him to his final resting place. It was a day that I dreaded and feared more than almost any other. But my husband and our son were there to give me the strength and support I needed. Somehow I made it through that awful September day as did the rest of the family.

 

In the coming months, we all had good days and bad. Many tears were shed but also many happy memories were shared.

 

It wasn’t until Thanksgiving Day that everything was put in perspective for me. I felt so small and petty as I heard my Mother relate this story. She awoke early as she did every day and immediately smiled knowing that it was Thanksgiving Day. Still lying on her side and facing the wall of her bedroom she asked my father if he would like some coffee and toast before they made the traditional drive to my sister’s house to begin the day’s festivities. She hesitated for a moment and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she tried to smile. “He didn’t answer,” she said, so I reached behind me to take his hand. Again more tears fell. Her hands shook as she tried to wipe them. Then in a voice almost childlike, she said, “He wasn’t there. I was all alone. All I could do was lay there and cry.”

 

My heart ached for her as my cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. All of these months and years I had been completely focused on what losing my father would mean to my life. And here before me was my mother who had just lost her other half, the love of her life and her dearest companion of nearly fifty years. I hugged her and told her how much I loved her and how much my father loved her. Then I just held her as she cried. I found myself wishing that I could ease her pain but also marveling at it in an odd way. I came to see that her almost unbearable pain was a tribute to the undying love they had shared for almost half a century. It was a love that had endured anything and everything this world could challenge it with, and yet it still remained strong and true.

 

On that day, I was certain I knew what true love is, how it looks and how it feels. I had witnessed it all of my life and lived in its protective warm glow. And I understood now that this was what the deepest, coldest pain in this world feels like. But also that it followed a lifetime of the deepest, truest love that could ever be shared by two people. This new understanding and appreciation is yet one more gift to me from my parents. Taking what we have for granted is a part of being human. And it’s a trap we all fall into from time to time. But seeing my mother’s face that day is a constant reminder for me to try vigilantly to avoid that trap. Each day when I wake up, I need to reach out and feel my husband lying next to me and pause. I need to smile and appreciate that feeling of being in his arms, in my perfect place. I need to absorb that love and be thankful to have it and him in my life for another day. That and that alone makes me one of the most fortunate people in the world. I need to remember that no matter what the day holds in store for me, it’  s a good day because it started with him by my side and God willing, it will end in the same manner.