Lost and Found
"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation"
Kahlil Gibran
I lost my mother once in Times Square. It was our first week in New York City and we were underground waiting for the number 1 train. Thank goodness we were accompanied by a long time resident and friend who was with us to help scout a new business for my parents. As we stood among the throngs of people on the platform, a train arrived on the track. My mother, who was standing close to the door, was pushed inside as people made their entrance and exit. I recall the look of fear and dismay on her face as the door closed and she was pulled away. I looked up at our friend and the tears welled up in my eyes; how were we ever going to find her?
Soon another train made its way to the track and Mr. Nhan assured me that if we took this train and got off at the next stop, my mother would be there waiting for us. I didn't know anything else do to except grab hold of his hand and followed him onto the train. Sure enough, when we arrived at the next stop, we were reunited with my mother. I was so relieved that she had the good instinct to just jump off at the next station hoping we would have a better chance to find her that way.
It is such a gift that my parents are still vibrant busy people. My father just turned 77 in January and my mother will be a legal senior come December (she is actually proud of this fact since she still looks great and no one will believe how old she is when she tells them)However, as dynamic as they are, the wear and tear of aging is creeping up on them. I see this and I am scared to death.
My father's colds, which used to go away with a curse or some hot soup, linger a little longer these days - wearing him out and taking a lot of his strength as he fights to regain his health. He still goes to the pool to swim laps each day, but his gait is a little limper and he requires some assistance getting out and into his car. I know this and I am worried.
At least his grumpiness and shrewdness is still there; he is on top of his game and is at his desk working every morning. His vocal chords are still strong enough to send a chilling message to a slacking staffer; his eyes still keen and watchful. AND he is still making daily visits to his mistress. I know all this and somehow, as imperfect as it may be, I feel a little relieved that he is still that man; that he still has that something in him. That being hopefully, aging and sickness will be kept at bay!
My mother too. She prays that she doesn't have Alzheimer; twice this week she has left a pot of food to burn on the stove. Black smoke billowing out from under my parent's door and into the hallway; my mother in a taxicab happily rolling down Seventh avenue on her way to Jack's 99cents store to retrieve a shopping bag that she said the cashier failed to hand her the day before. "I can't believe they have it," she called to tell me from her cell phone, not realizing that at the same time, my father was going crazy at home letting all the smoke out their kitchen window. What am I going to do with them? More sadly, what am I going to do without them?
There is nothing perfect about this imperfect world that we live in. Yet, we can still live a beautiful life if we learn to accept things and people for what they are. The older I become, the clearer I am able to see. The roads that I have traveled to get here today could not have been treaded had my life or the people in it been any different; I am so appreciative of my experiences. There are still many questions that I may never have the answers to, yet I am learning to deal with them everyday.
So much has been lost in my youth when I think back on what could have been. However, what I have found is a certain solitude and a strong confidence of a sure and secure future for myself and my family. The love between my siblings and me; between my parents and us children; between me and my own family ~ serve as the foundation to withstand all hardship. In the end, the love you feel and the love you share is all you've got; and that, will never ever die!
Kahlil Gibran
I lost my mother once in Times Square. It was our first week in New York City and we were underground waiting for the number 1 train. Thank goodness we were accompanied by a long time resident and friend who was with us to help scout a new business for my parents. As we stood among the throngs of people on the platform, a train arrived on the track. My mother, who was standing close to the door, was pushed inside as people made their entrance and exit. I recall the look of fear and dismay on her face as the door closed and she was pulled away. I looked up at our friend and the tears welled up in my eyes; how were we ever going to find her?
Soon another train made its way to the track and Mr. Nhan assured me that if we took this train and got off at the next stop, my mother would be there waiting for us. I didn't know anything else do to except grab hold of his hand and followed him onto the train. Sure enough, when we arrived at the next stop, we were reunited with my mother. I was so relieved that she had the good instinct to just jump off at the next station hoping we would have a better chance to find her that way.
It is such a gift that my parents are still vibrant busy people. My father just turned 77 in January and my mother will be a legal senior come December (she is actually proud of this fact since she still looks great and no one will believe how old she is when she tells them)However, as dynamic as they are, the wear and tear of aging is creeping up on them. I see this and I am scared to death.
My father's colds, which used to go away with a curse or some hot soup, linger a little longer these days - wearing him out and taking a lot of his strength as he fights to regain his health. He still goes to the pool to swim laps each day, but his gait is a little limper and he requires some assistance getting out and into his car. I know this and I am worried.
At least his grumpiness and shrewdness is still there; he is on top of his game and is at his desk working every morning. His vocal chords are still strong enough to send a chilling message to a slacking staffer; his eyes still keen and watchful. AND he is still making daily visits to his mistress. I know all this and somehow, as imperfect as it may be, I feel a little relieved that he is still that man; that he still has that something in him. That being hopefully, aging and sickness will be kept at bay!
My mother too. She prays that she doesn't have Alzheimer; twice this week she has left a pot of food to burn on the stove. Black smoke billowing out from under my parent's door and into the hallway; my mother in a taxicab happily rolling down Seventh avenue on her way to Jack's 99cents store to retrieve a shopping bag that she said the cashier failed to hand her the day before. "I can't believe they have it," she called to tell me from her cell phone, not realizing that at the same time, my father was going crazy at home letting all the smoke out their kitchen window. What am I going to do with them? More sadly, what am I going to do without them?
There is nothing perfect about this imperfect world that we live in. Yet, we can still live a beautiful life if we learn to accept things and people for what they are. The older I become, the clearer I am able to see. The roads that I have traveled to get here today could not have been treaded had my life or the people in it been any different; I am so appreciative of my experiences. There are still many questions that I may never have the answers to, yet I am learning to deal with them everyday.
So much has been lost in my youth when I think back on what could have been. However, what I have found is a certain solitude and a strong confidence of a sure and secure future for myself and my family. The love between my siblings and me; between my parents and us children; between me and my own family ~ serve as the foundation to withstand all hardship. In the end, the love you feel and the love you share is all you've got; and that, will never ever die!
posted by cream cheese dreams at 12:52 AM
2 Comments:
Ah - the sandwich generation. It's such a tough time in our lives. I'll be praying for health and happiness for your parents.
You have beautifully voiced feelings that we all share. Often it is easier to push these thoughts to the back of our minds instead of dealing with them.
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