" I look at myself in the mirror and see an old woman, wracked with the pain of arthritis; but, inside, I feel like a little girl. " Those words prompted me to begin an article about that lady, my mother, Four days before she died I told her the title " Lessons From The Twinkle In My Mother's Eyes. " She laughed hard, protesting that she didn't think anyone could learn enough from her to write an article about. So hard, that over the phone from a continent away I could here my sister cautioning, " Stop laughing mum; you are going to wet your pants. " .
I still haven't completed the article. The pain of losing her is still too strong; but, I think of the lessons every day.
( A photo of that little girl adorns this page on the left. )
" You are never too old ! " my 98 year old aunt said to me as we spoke about her 90 year old boyfriend. Aunt Dot died peacefully yesterday. Very intelligent till the end, she would discuss, insight-fully, anything significant going on in the world. Almost totally blind and equally almost deaf for the last several years, she would put on headphones, crank up the volume and maintain touch with the world outside her assisted living apartment. What a wonderful example she was.
I, too, think that it is never too late and at 64, still looking for the love of my life, feel like a little boy inside. The latter is known only to my children who, when I let down the "mature" persona that the rest of the world knows of me, tell me "Oh dad! ' and make as if I'm a silly old fool needing to stop acting like a child. That having been said, I know that they are proud that their dad is not a couch potato; but, is tripping around the Ande's region of South America, zip lining mountain top to mountain top, and having a great time. i think that they even tell their friends about me with a touch of pride.
Today, I visited a dear friend who died and was brought back to life by me giving him CPR just over a year ago. An intelligent 90 year old with a constant thirst for learning, Jaime complained that yesterday was his birthday and it went un-noticed. When told, the family protested that his birthday was really in November and not September. A review of his official documents gave conflicting dates; but the family insisted that it was in November and a heated discussion with Jaime began. I intervened and proposed that for Jaime, at 90, having died and come back to life, every day was his birthday. With that, the tone of the discussion calmed. Feliz Cumpleanos Jaime.
Click RSS Icon to automatically follow Andre's Blog.
Follow Andre on Twitter