It is April 23. And there is more snow on the ground than there was in December. For even the heartiest snow lovers, it is beginning to feel oppressive. I am proud of the fact that I learned to snow blow- out of duress, but I'm done now. As I started to feel mildly depressed, Monday came along and I received my weekly perspective check.
At Solvay last night, I found myself once again in room 204. It's funny how a room can change so much based on who is in it. 204 was bright last night- full balloons and birthday cards. Sitting up in a chair, eating what may have been spaghetti, was an elegant 95 year old lady full of smiles. I will call her Sense. I did not want to interrupt her dinner but she waved me in and told me to have a seat. It's hard to describe the sense of calm I felt upon sitting down, but it is as though it washed over me. Sense looked at me and asked, 'Well, how are you?' I smiled and told her I was fine- it's always hard to know exactly where our conversations are going to lead.
I asked her about the balloons, and she acknowledged that the day before was her birthday. She chuckled and then told me that she'd told her family to go back to their lives; that she was set, and didn't didn't need them to stick around. Sense looked at me matter-of-factly and said, 'This is it for me. I've buried my husband, my sisters, my friends. I've sold my house, moved out of my apartment, and made the arrangements for my funeral. I'm here for end.' Until January, she had been entirely independent. One trip to the dentist over a loose tooth change all- she was diagnosed with a fast growing mouth cancer resistant to treatment. I sat for a moment, after she'd finished talking- maybe I looked uncomfortable. She said, 'Well it's just life, Dear. I lived long and I've lived well.'
She's right, of course. So much is out of our control. Bad things happen. Boston happens. Texas happens. Life happens. What are we left with?
I asked Sense how she remained so strong for so many years. She smiled and said, 'I'm not strong at all. I just put one foot in front of the other...every day.'
So that is what we are left with...moving forward one step at a time, appreciating life for all of its beauty- the happiness more profound because of the sadness, and light so much brighter because of the dark.
It seems that Sense was trying to tell me that life is what we make of it. Regardless of what happens, each day we have the opportunity to move forward, to control how we choose to act and who to be in spite of all that we can't control.
So it's snowing in April. I suppose I need to bring my skis back up from the basement.
At Solvay last night, I found myself once again in room 204. It's funny how a room can change so much based on who is in it. 204 was bright last night- full balloons and birthday cards. Sitting up in a chair, eating what may have been spaghetti, was an elegant 95 year old lady full of smiles. I will call her Sense. I did not want to interrupt her dinner but she waved me in and told me to have a seat. It's hard to describe the sense of calm I felt upon sitting down, but it is as though it washed over me. Sense looked at me and asked, 'Well, how are you?' I smiled and told her I was fine- it's always hard to know exactly where our conversations are going to lead.
I asked her about the balloons, and she acknowledged that the day before was her birthday. She chuckled and then told me that she'd told her family to go back to their lives; that she was set, and didn't didn't need them to stick around. Sense looked at me matter-of-factly and said, 'This is it for me. I've buried my husband, my sisters, my friends. I've sold my house, moved out of my apartment, and made the arrangements for my funeral. I'm here for end.' Until January, she had been entirely independent. One trip to the dentist over a loose tooth change all- she was diagnosed with a fast growing mouth cancer resistant to treatment. I sat for a moment, after she'd finished talking- maybe I looked uncomfortable. She said, 'Well it's just life, Dear. I lived long and I've lived well.'
She's right, of course. So much is out of our control. Bad things happen. Boston happens. Texas happens. Life happens. What are we left with?
I asked Sense how she remained so strong for so many years. She smiled and said, 'I'm not strong at all. I just put one foot in front of the other...every day.'
So that is what we are left with...moving forward one step at a time, appreciating life for all of its beauty- the happiness more profound because of the sadness, and light so much brighter because of the dark.
It seems that Sense was trying to tell me that life is what we make of it. Regardless of what happens, each day we have the opportunity to move forward, to control how we choose to act and who to be in spite of all that we can't control.
So it's snowing in April. I suppose I need to bring my skis back up from the basement.
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