About my mom…
As some of you may know, my mom died before I had my own kids, so this day is a mixed bag for me, as I'm sure it is for so many others.
My mom and I loved each other a lot and we fought a lot. Sometimes she was really, really wrong about things. Wrong about me. Once she laid into me for refusing to wear earrings to a holiday party. This sounds minor but was honestly one of our most epic battles. The more she pushed the earrings, the more staunchly I refused, even though I loved wearing earrings and had only skipped them by mistake.
Who knows what possessed her to think she could argue a teenage girl into a specific accessory choice and why she felt it mattered.
But when she wasn't weighing in on jewelry, my mom could be searingly intuitive and smart. And like all of us, to different degrees, lucky and unlucky.
She was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2002 and lived with it for six whole years, despite being given a 6-month prognosis. She quit her private psychotherapy practice and became a full-time patient and human, something that allowed her to change in unexpected ways.
In addition to being intuitive and smart, she became more present and free and content. She was so ridiculously upbeat and cheery throughout her treatment, that she was asked to give a keynote talk to other cancer patients on how to live when facing death.
Here is an excerpt I want to share with all of you:
Now, suddenly, I was in the patient role, not the role of the understanding analyst/ caretaker. Little by little, as the terror subsided, I began to enjoy a period of living in the moment, unparalleled in my adult life. I was allowed now to partake of far more of the pleasures and far less of the responsibilities. I felt indulged, admired for just being alive, praised for doing the most ordinary things. And I liked doing the most ordinary things. I felt lucky every day. The most regular events took on extra luster, and life seemed more intense and amazing. Always an overachiever, I found that I no longer compelled to "live up to my potential": -- I was just compelled to live! I could take things more slowly, listen to a CD, wander in the neighborhood, sit on the river, etc. I didn't have to be hounded by the idea of being productive and busy. As I ponder this, I think that it is too bad that it is often only through illness that we are able to slow down and truly enjoy and experience the small moments of life which we so often take for granted. I should not deny that the 10 mgs of Decadron which I got with each infusion helped a lot. Frankly, I would be flying high for several days.
Notwithstanding the time capsule of the CD-listening and the laughs of the steroid high, she says some pretty wise shit here.
So here are my takeaways, my deepest wishes for myself and for all of you:
May we feel lucky every day,
May we enjoy doing the most ordinary things,
May we be admired for being alive,
May we be compelled to live.
