Life Lessons

The more I see, paint, experience, hurt, and laugh, the more I grow.  I embrace the difficult and painful because I now know they contain poignant lessons for me.  I celebrate each day with gusto and appreciation,  embracing the bad with bravado as I navigate the unknown waters.

Last week's visit with my mother ended in a lesson about love, caring, and the human touch - all experienced in a Springsteen sort of way.

Anyone who knows me well knows of my struggles with my parental units. Abuse. Alcoholism. Mental illness.  The culmination of a lifetime of hard work and therapy brings Acceptance, and with acceptance comes love. Or,  perhaps it is the other way around.

.....I braved traffic and lines to get my mom a bagel stick stuffed with lox cream cheese.  I had forgotten it was the day of Kingston's St. Patrick's Day Parade, and the roads and plaza were packed with the traffic from floats and people.  As I crawled along I wondered if I should have not bothered.  Besides, she would not know what she was missing if I just showed up with the flowers.

But something told me to forget about time and the crowds, and pick it up for her.  I figured it must get pretty boring eating all that nursing home food. 

She was thrilled that I was there, and seemed not to care that I had not visited in a month and was joyful that I was there now.  I handed her the bagel stick, and her eyes opened wide.  In spite of missing teeth- the bridge is just too painful, she enjoyed each bite with gusto and delight.  

I set the flowers in a vase by the window. Pink carnations, her favorite.  We spent an hour looking at magazines together, she occasionally handing me a catalog of furniture that she thought I'd like, a recipe. An article.  A photograph.

I went over to her nightstand to put on some hand lotion.  She tried to give it to me to take home.
I refused it.  But something made me stop. And something made me  wonder how long it had been since someone had touched her with love.

"Mom, give me your hands, I am going to give you a hand massage".  She leaned back on her pillow and closed her eyes, smiling as I massaged her hands, her arms.  I had never touched my mother like that before, and I told her how young and smooth her skin was.  She smiled, and through her missing teeth, I saw her heart.  Through her almost 80 years I still saw youth. Through the lips that cannot talk, I heard her whisper about love.

I stayed much longer than I usually do.  I was basking in a comfort that I had never felt before. 

And I was grateful for that Sunday morning, grateful that I didn't stay in bed, grateful for the trip to the Bagel Shop.  Most of all, grateful for that Sunday morning lesson of a lifetime.  A lesson of love.

Patti