Wrenched
Sometimes life throws a wrench right in to your side. A blunt trauma that knocks the breath out of you and leaves you grasping for something to lean against just to keep you steady as you take it all in. Something so unexpected that it causes you to gasp and hold a hand over mouth. One of those moments when you know that if you were acting it would look so perfect… so real… so pure. A moment that you think “Is this really happening to me? I am really IN this moment?”
That happened to me today. My husband had sent the kids outside to play and then said I should take a look at a letter from my kids’ preschool. It arrived in the same 5×7 manilla envelope all of the school materials arrive in. There in among the papers was a letter to all the parents.
(Let me forewarn you all this is a long scatter-brained entry, so be prepared, it isn’t totally cohesive… and definately more for my own needs… to hash out things in my head)
Now, it wasn’t the first time the school sent out a letter to let the parents know of a critical change happening with the school (it has happened twice in the past 5 years. Usually these letters are in reference to a teacher leaving). So, I said to myself “Great. Who’s leaving NOW??” A about a year and a half ago the school had lost two great teachers within 1 month of each other due to job changes with more pay that they both really needed. It was a shock since one of the teachers was my son’s former kindergarden teacher (she was great) and she left during Christmas break (through a letter, of course… guess THAT’s not so great, though, huh?) never to return.
Anyway, this letter was from the head teacher and owner of the school, Marilyn. A woman who I have entrusted my children with because she is one of the sweetest, and kindest people I know. She runs her school very well, and has made my children feel so loved and important. She has greeted me every school day with a smile and welcome arms for my kids. This letter was from her as an individual, not as a teacher. She was letting us all know that her warm, laid back summer was coming to a screeching halt due to the fact that she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She isn’t a smoker, and gave no other information than that. She’s in her late 60’s and has seemed healthy since I have known her. This was a true shock to me. Now I just am dumbfounded. How do I imagine her with her hair falling out and her weight dropping? How do I imagine her keeping her cheerful spirit when her body is racked with pain? What if I have to tell my kids (two of which who have had her for two years or more) that something horrible has happened to this woman they care so much about? What if they are shocked and have questions I can’t answer? She sounds hopeful, but has made all the necessary plans to cover all the needs at the school.
I lost a friend to breast cancer last fall. Two of my close friends have parents battling cancer at this very point in time. Three different people from my church had cancer in the past few years. My uncle had kidney cancer last year. What gives? It just seems like it is inevitable. I am so thankful that it isn’t someone in my family. I am blessed that close calls with bad health have never been anything but that.
Let me digress… I remember asking my mom about her parents… Her mom, Lydia… A woman I never met. I remember my mom saying, “oh, she died before you were born. I was 38.” Or my dad saying something about his parents in the same way.
I feel like these years I am in now are going to be filled with changes that my younger years shielded me from. Changes that alter everything… Changes that solidify relationships because you are there through the tough times with the people you care the most about. These are the years where my friends may bury their parents. These years are the years I buried friends. These are the years I have buried friends babies. These are the years that seemed so far away just a decade ago.
I have been on a “journey” for a while now. Mono, panic issues, allergies, and now asthma. Since last October I have been sorting out a lot of stuff. With panic issues you get caught up in fear of your health, mainly because you don’t breathe deep enough to keep the oxygen levels correct in your brain. Which then spirals you into thinking your dying of something… a heart attack, cancer, tumors, what ever your mind can think of to explain why you feel so lousy. Sometimes your reason to start breathing wrong is simply asthma. A treatable thing. Sometimes its a deeper lying issue waiting to surface and be recognized… analyzed… For me its been both.
I went through a really hard epiphany last winter. I realized none of my grandparents lived past 82. My parents are beginning their 70’s. What will this decade bring? What of the next? (I realize the morbidity of such a thought. I understand the gravity of the emotions felt when a subject so sensitive is brought into the light). Tough emotions are bound to surface as time plays on and life carries on as it always has… Birth, living, dying.
Right now my kids look at me as the grown-up… The one who is supposed to have the answers that help them sleep better and at peace. They are the age I was when I looked at my parents and listened as they told me the stories of people I never met… Their parents… The same age as when my parents calmed me down after a bad dream. When did I grow up? It is like the secret of grown-ups is that they really have no idea what will happen next, but all they really know is a soothing voice, reassuring this little person staring up at them with complete trust, is all they need.
Marilyn is a strong woman and I know she will put up a good fight, and she may win. But these are the years when simple answers are no longer in my grasp… The years when joy and mourning flow into each other… The years that continue to make me into whatever I am to be at the end… The years that seemed so far away, but came all too soon.
Oh wow, Mindy–I am so sorry. I will pray for Marilyn. How terrible–words fail…