While walking in Marshalls Store today, I passed by an elderly woman and saw she had a bright pink cherry blossom wreath in her basket.
“What a beautiful wreath!” I told her.
“It is, isn’t it?” She agreed.
I went on to say the wreath would brighten up any space.
“It’s for my daughter’s grave,” she said, wilting a little. “She died one year ago, and since her tombstone hasn’t been placed yet, I thought I would find a way to use this to dress it up.”
“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said. She went on to tell me her husband also died just three weeks shy of their 75th anniversary, at age 100 and 6 months.
“That’s the way life is,” she continued. I leaned in a little, thinking she was about to give me the secret to what life “is,” but instead, she stared at the flowers on the wreath.
I remembered my years in DC, where the cherry blossom trees define spring and renewal. After a few weeks, the delicate petals on the trees float off, symbolizing the impermanence of our fleeting lives.
As our conversation slowed, she said, ” I’m 95 years old.”
“What a blessing!” I said.
“Sometimes I’m not sure if it is or not.” She said, her voice tired.
“So nice talking to you,” I said…and God bless you…The wreath really is — absolutely perfect.”
She smiled, touched my arm, gave it a mom squeeze, and continued pushing her basket toward the clothing section where her caretaker waited.
What I learned:
My five-minute conversation with one kind, elderly woman was priceless to me, as were the connections we made. I pray she will find peace.
I also pray that maybe someone stop in and chat with my parents when they are out and about. They won’t be at Marshalls, but maybe Goodwill, Trader Joe’s, a yard sale, or the Commissary. Sharing a moment with someone and listening to their stories is lubrication for the soul.
Tonight I dialed my parent’s cell phone to check in. As the youngest and furthest away from them I have few tasks other than feeling guilty that I am so far away. So tonight it was my job to make sure they ate their dinner. My sister had sent a picture of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she had left and all I had to do was remind them to eat. The first attempt to call ended with a lot of ringing and no response. Then I called the land line knowing out of nostalgia and habit, they usually pick this one up. Dad with a cheery, “Hola!” or “Howdy!” hoping whoever is calling has a lot of time to chat, or Mom with a stern “Hello” – an edge in her voice that says – I may be older, but don’t you dare try to scam me into giving you any personal information or money!
“¡Hola!” dad bellowed. “Luc-did you just call Mom’s little iPad? She was playing Solitaire and we heard it ringing.”
“I did!” I said loudly, joining Dad’s energetic banter.
“Can you call it again?” Dad asked. “Sure thing Dad”. “Thanks!” He said. I called again and there they were – well all I could see was the top of Mom’s freshly permed white hair and half of Dad’s face. But I loved it.
Dad started in, “Wow! Look at that picture! Nice and big! How did you call the iPad? Luc, can I pick up the cell phone and use that for the call too?” Dad was curious, always trying to figure out how things worked, and loving the fact that they could see a big picture. “It’s all connected” I explained. “All the devices will respond when someone calls if you’re using them.” He seemed satisfied with my not-so-technical answer and continued, “So what’s going on there? How’s your weather?”
I caught them up on the kids – the boys popped into the room to say hi to them and they commented on Zavier’s curly hair. Mom said, “You used to have hair like that Dad!” Dad chimed in, “When I HAD hair!” Then I pointed out Dexter’s new mustache. “He’s already shaving?” asked Dad. “He’s 19,” I told him. “Hmm, was I shaving at 19?” He asked himself.
We went back and forth for a bit and I asked if they ate. “Did we eat, Dad?” Mom asked. “We ate a late lunch.” He confirmed. “And you know mom, she eats 5,000 bowls of cereal in the morning. Then we eat a big lunch and snack for dinner.” Mom confirmed. “Yes, Lucretia, I guess we already ate.”
“Okay, well I’m in charge of reminding you to eat dinner. I have a picture of what you have to eat.” Dad jumped in, “What is it?” I pulled up the picture – “looks like roast, potatoes, and carrots…yum!”
“Okay,” Dad said, “Just tell the girls we ate. Maybe we’ll have some Cheerios.” Mom jumped in, “Yes! Dad just discovered he loves the Honey Nut Cheerios so now I have to share.” They went on to tell a story about a bent-up box of Cheerios they got at the Commissary for $2.00. My hubby Justin suggested they might want to “bend” some other boxes and try and get them at a discount also. Dad said he was thinking the same thing. Mom interjected saying, “Well we were planning on going to heaven, but I’m not sure about it if we will now.” We all chuckled and Mom said her stomach would be sore from all the laughing.
Always melancholy at the end of our conversations, I said – “Alright, don’t forget to eat! And Dad, take your medicine. (Dad tends to put all the medicine in his shirt pocket and carry them around all day, considering this his way of “taking them”.)
You need your multivitamin, your eye stuff, and the baby Aspirin. Always the jokester Dad said, “I can’t hear her anymore, can you Mom?”
“Daaaad! You stinker!” I said laughing.
We signed off, “Love you mija, time to light the fireplace.” Dad said.
“Love you, say hi to everyone,” Mom said calmly.
“Bye guys, I love you.” – I blew a kiss and made a loud kissing sound hoping somehow they felt my love for them coming through that little iPad that not only can be used for Solitaire but also talking to us. I’ll remind them again the next time they answer my call on it, as I always do. I sat back on the couch praying there would be many more calls ahead. Because every day is better after talking to them.
What I learned:
I share this story because this is my takeaway from the day. This conversation. Yes, out of the 1,440 minutes in one day, the 30 minutes on the phone with Mom and Dad will keep me optimistic and give me comfort knowing I have these two people still out there rooting for me, laughing with me, and even though they are forgetting to drink their Pedialyte and can’t remember their neighbor’s name, they still know who I am, their youngest gal. What a blessing they are.
It is so worth it to take the time to talk, listen, and share with people. Especially the ones who make you feel loved.
Also, take the time to pray. For yourself. For everyone. Pray for the family who just lost their son to a freak accident on the football field, pray for the second grader who just found out her little sister has leukemia, pray for the single mom who just lost her job and is starting from scratch, pray for the guy driving the Camaro who cut you off this morning, pray for those who appear to be happy but you just know that somewhere in their heart they are ailing.
Remember to take at least 30 minutes today (out of 1440) and exercise, pray, and connect.
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