End-Of-Life: The Journey

24 Dec 2023 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Insights, Love and Other Things Tags: , , , , , , ,

“Don’t complicate the present by reviewing the past or dreading the future.” These are the poignant words I stumbled upon on my mother’s 86th birthday. 

Mom is struggling physically and mentally.  As a result, I’m struggling emotionally.  She’s slipping away and I’m grasping at her life while trying to manage her pain and mine.

At a time like this, it’s hard to fend off regret about misguided choices, love withheld, and missed opportunities. Melancholy tempts me, reeling me in with sweet or sour memories, showing me a future without a mother and a present in which there’s no way to capture time.

Mom’s memory is fading. People and stories are new to her every 30 seconds. She may not recall my name, but she smiles when I enter the room – a recognition that I am someone she enjoys. Following her lead, I paste a smile on my face, pretending that all is well until I can see that it actually is.

Without an anxious mind to highlight what’s wrong, Mom is more content – almost gleeful and childlike. Conversation, though repetitive, is lighthearted and devoid of expectation or innuendo. This version of Mom is delightful if I choose to look with fresh eyes.

My work is to accept that I’ve lost the mother I knew.  Even though it’s been decades since I felt I needed a mother, the idea of being parentless strikes my sense of stability. Grief begins its journey and invites me to acknowledge where healing is needed. Pain shows me where I’m holding back.

Heaven is rolling out its red carpet slowly, allowing Mom’s fans the opportunity to admire her as she walks toward the grand ceremony of transition.  One day or night, her name will be called and she will receive the award of freedom from a tortured body.  She has suffered to be sure, ever-stoic in the face of pain and loss.

Will I be able to cheer for her when I know I’m losing all but the re-runs of her in my mind? Is it possible for me to honor my grief without dishonoring her glory? Can I truly let her go in peace?

This end-of-life process is a beautiful gift in ugly wrapping. It takes courage to open it and reveal its contents. When we do, we may be surprised to discover the loving message within.

Gratitude reveals that it is a privilege to have an in-kind opportunity to support the person who has supported me since before my first breath. Perhaps this is the simple point of living – to care for each other throughout our shared journey back to Love.

A Letter To My Son-In-Law: I Should Have Known

28 Oct 2023 1 Comment

by Deb D in Uncategorized

Dear Gnat,

When my daughter was a little girl, I often wondered about the person who would one day capture her heart.  I should have known she’d find someone like you.  She always chose her friends wisely, gravitating toward people who, even at a young age, knew what values were and tried their best to live accordingly.

My realization came after your first date. I heard how you protected my daughter, steadfast in the face of her bravado, and I knew that she had met her match. She is headstrong to be sure, and you are not pushy, but your strength runs deep, ready to surface as needed. 

I can see that you appreciate the differences between the two of you as opportunities for personal growth, not as something to contend with or compete against. This willingness to evolve together will serve you well.

Our girl’s enormous enthusiasm for life can overwhelm a mortal, but you remain undaunted. Your heart, having been cracked open, recognizes that wonderful things await the person who leans into love.

When a tornado nearly ruined your wedding venue in the days preceding your nuptials, you declared your intention to say your vows no matter what, even if it meant taking all the guests to a local park. With trademark steadiness, you comforted your bride in her disappointment, knowing what not to say while holding space for her emotion. 

I should have known the heartfelt letter you delivered on the eve of your wedding would pay tribute to the role her father and I played in shaping our daughter. Your inclusion of us in the vision you hold for your growing family is a parent’s dream. 

You’re the kind of guy people talk about in all the best ways. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders,”  they say, and nod with contented approval. You don’t need to live up to anyone’s good opinion of you, but I know you try. Because you are earnest and humble enough to know that character requires continuous introspection.

I love you, Gnat, for who you are, and for who you and my daughter will become together. Welcome to the family!

Love,

Deb

Building Bridges

21 Jun 2023 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Love and Other Things Tags: , , , , ,

My daughter’s entire medical record arrived, as if by nostalgic joke, on the day she departed on a  journey 9000 miles from home.  The 2-inch stack of papers summarized her growth, injuries, and illnesses over 20 years, providing a dispassionate account of milestones and incidents that were filled with emotion in real-time.

This condensed flashback brings gratitude not only for positive outcomes and spared suffering but for the privilege of providing care and comfort to a little person who relied on me. One who now has people relying on her.

Peach is building a bridge, both literally and figuratively, with a team of aspiring engineers in Africa. At the initial shock of hearing that my homebody daughter signed on for this project, I asked why she wanted to participate. She said, “Because even though I know it will be really hard for me, I know it will be really good for me.”

Peach borrowed confidence from her future self like a warrior, setting the tone for this worry-prone mother.  When anxiety about my daughter’s endeavor threatens my peace of mind, I follow her courageous lead and choose not to check the box. 

Peach has been ‘adopted’ by her Siswati family. She has a Máke (‘ma-gay) – a mother who teaches her how to cook over a fire.  She, the baby of our family, now has little ‘sissies’ who follow her around, idolizing her, and giving her an opportunity to be a role model. The world is embracing her, and naming her by her strengths. They call her Khanyisile – One Who Brings Light.

We receive a much-anticipated call from Khanyisile and are greeted in the local language which flows off her tongue. Her excitement is contagious as she tells stories of both frustration and gratification in balance. Our girl is much, much more than she was a few weeks ago.

Through the intersection of cultures, there is much to be gained, shared, and tolerated – like sleeping on the ground, washing clothes by hand, and using a primitive latrine. Me thinks there are worse things a mother could imagine for a daughter who was raised in a relatively spoiled society.

Beyond the obvious, this project has depths of significance that no one can anticipate. It will change and inform many lives in ways yet undetermined – but not just because it’s an extreme experience. When we say ‘yes’ to any calling big or small, near or far from home, which awakens a new part of ourselves, the ripples of growth fan out and infiltrate life. Thus, when one of us expands, we all expand. 

Peach is bemused when I convey how impactful this project is to friends and family sitting on the sidelines. A grandmother in her final chapter of life marvels at the opportunities available to modern young women. Her otherwise monotonous days bloom with colorful stories from a faraway land.  “Imagine,” she says, “an offspring of mine doing something like this!” 

Grandmother feels a thread of connection and a comforting realization – She had a part in creating this. Her legacy of love will continue to move through life, long after she’s left it.

This awareness is not lost amidst the loneliness I sometimes feel as a result of my children being scattered all over the world. The fact that they each take a part of my heart with them is both the bad news and the good news. How can I begrudge life for enticing my children to explore it, even as it holds me in place? 

When asked at the outset if I would visit my daughter in Africa, the answer was a definitive ‘No!’ This experience belongs entirely to her and I wouldn’t dream of interfering in it.

Life has its own plans for me that require a bit of emptiness. It is counting on me to be still and wait patiently until I become privy to its next invitation. In my restlessness, I’m learning to live with contradiction – acknowledging that one can hold both joy and pain, emptiness and fullness, love and fear, anxiety and excitement. We humans are not confined to singularity of emotion. Life offers a ‘both/and’ existence, not just an ‘either/or’ one.

My Peach teared up when she talked about leaving her new family, despite the fact that she misses her birth family. I don’t try to talk her out of her anguish but rather hold space for it in the company of my own competing desires.

The more I become willing to surrender to life on life’s terms and to accept that I am but a witness to its greatness, the easier it is to see Life’s impressively self-sustaining nature. Through each of us, Life sheds light on hidden places, revealing and rediscovering itself throughout eternity.

Grieving Through Celebrations

22 Dec 2022 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Just Life Tags: , , ,

A girl’s mother passed away. Her relationship with her remaining family is strained. She wonders if she should attend holiday celebrations or stay home.

When her mother was alive, there were years that the girl would opt out of gatherings and it didn’t feel wrong. But this first year without Mom feels different. Depending on her choice of attendance, she will appear either avoidant or unbidden.

In a situation that used to know the presence of our beloved, we feel disoriented despite the familiarity. A customary fixture is absent, and gone with it is a sense of order. Even the things about a person that might have once annoyed us are mysteriously missed.

The gap between mourning and celebrating is unsettling. I know that I cannot hope to enjoy what will be if I continue to mourn what used to be. But moving on feels like infidelity to the one who is gone. It’s a predicament – feeling bad doesn’t feel good, but feeling good feels wrong.

If there was a magic formula or a timeline to follow, perhaps grief would be more palatable. But the process is diverse and unregulated. We must tailor our own bereavement and healing, stitching together the threads of understanding we gather in the process.

Healing takes time and time takes time. Giving grief the dignity it deserves and being willing to follow its lead is our best chance at finding peace through loss.

One day, maybe sooner or later than we expect, we rediscover the lightness and brightness that was temporarily muffled. Joy returns with soft approach, tiptoeing its way into our heart, filling the cracked spaces until they become less like chasms and more like tiny windows to the Love story of Life.

Ode to Dad

19 Jun 2022 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Uncategorized Tags: ,

My first Prince Charming

When my sister and I left home, each of us was given our own toolbox by the man who had worked in construction since the age of 12. It was expected that we know how to use our tools and that we would carry on the do-it-yourself tradition in which we were raised. Dad wasn’t about to have his 2 daughters go into the world depending on anyone.

We valued his practical skills, soaking up bits of expertise whenever possible. “Stick with me 365 days and you’ll learn 365 new things,” he’d claim, and who could argue? Dad could fix or build anything, which became his calling card. 

We loved to tease him about using $10 worth of epoxy to repair a $5 item. In his world, everything was worth saving.  He collected discarded vacuums like abandoned children in need of a good home. But he had the last laugh when he opened one of the bags and found a sapphire and diamond ring.

One of his unique and endearing traits was that he always whistled while he worked. He took pride in all his jobs and projects and expected others to do the same.

Being born into Dad’s inner circle of affection provided a front-row view to his generosity. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for the ones he loved. Dad lent his tools, time, and attention to anyone, unless they disrespected him. 

Each of us thrived on the enormity of his love and his belief in us. “Show’em what you’ve got,’ he’d say, and ‘don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something.”

As a model grandfather, Dad busted through gender stereotypes before his time. He changed diapers, rocked babies, and cared for them all when they were sick. He was the kind of Grandpa who would read a story about a bunny, then spontaneously agree to make the carrot cake recipe at the end of the book.

Dad was a partner in crime – always game for a plan that was fun, adventurous, or harmlessly naughty. There was chicken hatching, homing pigeons, and even a transient pet turkey. There were ski trips, shopping trips, and trips down memory lane when he would wax poetic about the good ole days, conveying through rose-colored glasses, his version of a life well-lived.

Over the years, I’ve heard more than a handful of friends and family say, “What would we do without Danny?”

Now we have to find out what life without this remarkable man looks like. There will be holes that no one else will fill. Dad is irreplaceable and unrepeatable. 

Who will steal the last puzzle piece as a practical joke?

Who will bake too many desserts for every occasion and for no occasion at all?

Who will stop us as we back out of the driveway so he can wash our dirty headlights before our journey home?

There’s no one who loved like he did. How lucky we are to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Dad,

May your candy jar always be full. 

May there be cucumbers in every salad.

And may your Heavenly table be surrounded by family and friends who love you as much as you love them.

Freshman Year Renovations

06 Dec 2021 Leave a comment

by Deb D in College Chronicles, Parenting, Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

I awoke unreasonably early, too excited to sleep because my college Freshman was coming home for the holiday.

Finally, the dull ache of the empty nest met its relief as I scooped up my baby girl and soaked in every nuance of her precious being. 

I knew that I’d receive a different girl than the one I sent off in September. The changes are subtle – a new expression, a hairstyle, an attitude… I’m tempted to analyze everything, as if trying to back-fill the log of events that would explain the transformation.

She, too, is catching up. Driving through the center of our sleepy town, she notices a major renovation of a tiny building. Her mind is blown by ‘how much has happened in a short time.’

Like our town, Peach’s life is undergoing renovations. As project manager, she holds the right to design her existence, dig it up, and make a mess in the process. I simply need to obey the detour signs and perform occasional site checks to make sure she crosses the finish line. 

Detour

Peach is a yearling with barely one foot out the door. But the legal world considers her an adult at 18. She’s responsible for forms and processes that I can’t meddle in. Confronted with the daunting prospect of instant ‘adulting’ while indulging in first-time freedom is overwhelming and exhausting. She has burned the candle at both ends and is appropriately diminished. This week of respite is my chance to build her back up.

The first semester of college is no joke. Sickness, drama, responsibility, and excitement are repeatedly and randomly activated like the features of a pinball machine. 

Every phone call makes me tense, wondering if it will require crisis triage or celebration. In my experience, college-aged children don’t call Mom when all is status quo. Deep breaths and a quick prayer precede every tentative greeting. 

It’s hard to stay steady when a beloved young ‘un is inviting you for a ride on their roller coaster. Loving detachment is a trick I haven’t completely mastered. But there’s no shortage of opportunities to practice. 

A reminder to avoid proofreading Peach’s life comes easily when she offers a spontaneous expression of gratitude: “Thank you for loving me unconditionally.” She’s not unaware of the fact that one’s own chaos seeps into those who care about you, even with the healthiest of boundaries.

A parent has so many wishes for a child, none of which matter. Their lives are not our lives, even though we feel intimately intertwined. Even if we want the same things, we simply aren’t powerful enough to guarantee smooth sailing and desirable outcomes. Believing in our own inflated influence and importance leads to inevitable disappointment.

Our best bet during the remodeling phase is to wear a hard hat and proceed with caution.  One day, we’ll stand back and assess the new structure with awe, wondering how it all came together despite our fears and doubts.

Mom’s Letter To Her Final Graduate

01 Jun 2021 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Growing Up, Parenting, Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

Dear Peach,

Remember when your puppy would grab a shoe and wouldn’t let it go until you tempted him with a new toy? Even then, he tried his hardest to figure out how to hold onto both, unwilling to surrender a speck of joy. You resemble this as you stand between your high school graduation and your college experience – excited about the future but hesitant to surrender the familiar. 

You’re burning the candle at both ends – capturing time with friends in a desperate frenzy to make last-minute memories.  But time is measured and no matter how much you squeeze into each day, you may never feel replete.

Most days I hardly see you and conversations are limited to relaying logistics. When you surprise me with an unhurried kiss, I melt a little as I try not to count down the number of loving interactions that remain before your departure.

I reassure you that all will be well, while hiding the fact that I’m trying to bolster us both. You think you’ll miss me more than I’ll miss you, but the fact is that you’ll be having entirely new experiences that aren’t meant to have me in them. I, on the other hand, will be in the same setting I’ve always been in, minus you.  My landscape will be missing a beloved irreplaceable feature while you will be painting on a blank canvas.

Encouraging you to embrace this next step is bittersweet. It’s like putting down a good book. Even though I know I’ll love the “Motherhood” sequel in which you become an adult, a small part of me will always favor the first installment, because that’s the one in which I fell in love with you.

Being your mom is a privilege that came with a time stamp. You are our family’s grand finale. When you walk across the stage to accept your diploma, my heart will quiver as my mind plays a highlight reel in the background of the ways in which you have punctuated our lives. 

Who would we be without your steady, stabilizing personality, your enormous ability to forgive, and your signature sweetness? How would we have learned new dance moves or kept up with pop culture and vast music genres?  And what would have become of us without our Resident Peacemaker?

Peach, you have assets that you haven’t acknowledged yet. They’ve always been there, twinkling like tiny stars, just waiting for an opportunity to burn brightly. Don’t be scared to shine. The light from within you will illuminate your path and lead you to authentic joy.

Soon we will pack up a portion of your life and drive it into your future. We won’t be able to fit all that you want to bring along. But soon enough you will find that the only things you actually need to succeed are carried within. 

When doubt creeps in and spoils your confidence, remind yourself that you haven’t made it this far in life by accident. Replace your ‘what if’s’ with ‘even if.’ No matter what happens, you will handle it and I will be right here backing you up. 

Trust yourself. Trust Life. And remember that you are exactly who you are meant to be. 

Love, 

Mom 

Don’t Go Changing – Even Though I Want You To

11 May 2021 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Insights Tags: , , ,

We don’t waste our time with gift-guessing in our family. Instead, we employ liberal use of wish lists and self-shopping. This practical approach, though less exciting than surprises, is also less stressful which is incredibly appealing.

Difficulties arise when a would-be gift recipient knows not what they wish for. Or when they don’t want ‘things.’

Guilty as charged

For Mother’s Day, I half-jokingly asked Husband to consider lowering the toilet seat. In the game of ‘Pick Your Battles’ I’d never chosen this one. Married readers will accurately assume that this request met with resistance.

These relationship conundrums, despite their relative insignificance, can escalate to unreasonable levels of disharmony. So I dropped the topic like a hot potato. But not before considering why it is that we’re so put-out when asked to modify ourselves.

When I was a child my mother would ask for the same gift every year – “Just be a good kid. Don’t fight with your sister.”

I resented this request with passion.  In my immature mind, the implication was that I needed to change in order for my mother to be happy.

“I’m not enough”

We humans have a bad habit of wanting to sculpt our surroundings to suit our own preferences. We want others to change to make us more comfortable. It’s easy to forget that our opinions aren’t the only ones that matter. 

When we first enter a relationship, we forgive everything and we accommodate for each other’s differences. Over time our generosity fades and we begin to change labels. What was endearing becomes annoying. What was naturally absent now feels intentionally withheld. Tolerance and compromise feel more like sacrifice.

When I fool myself into obsessing over how my loved one’s habits affect me, I’ve forgotten 2 cardinal rules of relationship:

1. I am responsible for my own happiness.

2. I can’t control anyone but myself.

In other words, tend your own garden. Stay in your own lane. Don’t step out of your hula hoop. Keep your eyes on your own paper.

If we want to thrive in relationship we have to be willing to get over ourselves, which should keep us too busy to get tangled up in what other people are doing. Truth is, they’re not doing anything but being themselves. And that’s always ok. Not one of us owns the copyright to Life. Pretending that we do is our demise, but only 100% of the time.

We are quick enough in perceiving and weighing what we suffer from others, but we mind not what others suffer from us. –Thomas a’ Kempis

Feast or Fast

31 Mar 2021 1 Comment

by Deb D in Just Life, Uncategorized Tags: , ,

I’ve been accused of over-preparing food.

The people who would scold me for said crime are the same ones who would complain if I didn’t make their personal favorite dish for EVERY celebration.

Food is a love language, so I guess you could say I’m bilingual. Fluent, actually. 

The irony is, I eat only a small fraction of what I cook. I’ll spare the details behind my restrictive diet but suffice it to say that I’m no stranger to food anxiety. As such, I’ve engaged in countless elimination diets in an effort to quiet the beast within whilst nourishing myself.

The bright side of ‘selective intake’ is a much healthier body than the teen version of me who grew up in the break-out generation of fast food and sugared cereal.

Much is written these days about the benefits of fasting.  The practice is both fashion-forward and archaic, having been used for a range of reasons from physiologic prowess to spiritual enlightenment.

Pope Francis provided this gem:

The most appealing diet ever! Of course I adopted it on the spot and posted it in several areas of my home like an amateur. Could I not have predicted that Husband would ask me in a sarcastic and self-righteous tone how my fast was going when I became impatient? And immediately after that when I snapped at him for asking?

Seriously, I did pretty well considering the near impossible odds of actually getting over the habit of being myself. I’ve been on the personal growth block long enough to know that baby steps are a win. When anger rises up, noticing it and stopping it 3 seconds earlier than usual is cause for celebration.

The idea of fasting from that which brings us down and feasting on that which raises all of us up, is delicious AND nutritious. Bonus: it’s free food. It costs nothing to indulge in joy and hope and gratitude.

Junk ‘food’ on the other hand comes with a hefty price. Pessimism and resentment are thieves that will rob us blind and ruin our relationships in the process.

Spiritual fasting isn’t any easier than the physical version. I doubt I’ll avoid my propensity to shout when triggered. But if I can shed a few pounds of worry…

I suspect I’ll be a happier and healthier version of me.

Finding Freedom From Parental Worry

28 Feb 2021 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Parenting, Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

Once upon a time there was a mother who worried.

This mother turned her worry into a part-time job and often forgot to enjoy the experience of raising humans. She mistakenly thought that if she worried enough, she could thwart impending disaster and spare herself unimaginable heartache.  

For this mistaken belief, she suffered. Bargaining with the devil is costly and Satan takes all forms of payment. The mother lost sleep, sanity and serenity. 

The weight of worry grew in proportion with the children. Stories of teen escapades were revealed in bits and pieces, making the mother woozy. But shockingly, none of the stories equalled the terrifying possibilities that marinated in her imagination.

In other words, most of the mother’s fears never came to pass.

Reflecting on the fact that she had invested far too much in the fruitless schemes of the mind, the mother determined that it was time to reclaim her peace. 

The mind, she determined, was like an unsafe neighborhood. Best not to enter unaccompanied, lest fear lure her into a dark alley and rob her. 

Over time, the mother learned to keep company with more amiable companions like love and trust. She began praying and practicing the principle of detachment. Gradually, she felt lighter. Anxiety had been a heavy weight to carry.

These days, the mother practices safe thinking with the fervor of a zealot. Now that she has tasted freedom, alternative options have lost their appeal.

When a young adult son shares photos of his escapades….

the first thing she sees is Joy instead of Pain; Fun instead of Danger. And she, too, feels happy. Without fear lurking over her shoulder, the mother is able to partake in the amusement of her children’s lives.

Sometimes the mother entertains Regret and wants to cry over foregone chances at happiness. But instead, she works on self-forgiveness because she’s finally wise enough to recognize thieves in all their cunning disguises.

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