My aunt Grace, the last surviving of my mother's five sisters and three brothers, was in the hospital in Toronto this week. She's 93 on her next birthday in August, and fluid is collecting around her heart. She's back home now, and her daughter who lives in Nassau flew to be with her. She told me this morning that she's decided to give up her apartment in Toronto at the end of the year and live with her daughter in Jamaica, visiting with her daughter in Nassau sometimes. Both her girls live in large, airy, art-filled and beautifully appointed homes with pools and manicured grounds and views, and she has a dedicated space in each place. I had often wondered why she preferred her two-bedroom apartment in Toronto. It was the independence of course. She has many friends in Canada, people of all ages whom she calls her angels. But now, the fact that she is moving in with her daughter says so much about how she is feeling. Are you in pain, I asked her. Of course, she said. All the time. But it's just pain. Her voice sounded like music as she said it. There is always a smile in her voice when she speaks, which breaks into a full laugh that sounds like the tinkle of wind chimes. I believe her determined optimism is the secret of her high-functioning longevity. She has many medical issues, yet she moves through the world as if they are minor considerations. She keeps on.
I dreamed of my Aunt Winnie last night, my mother's oldest sister, the one who lived across the courtyard from me in New York, and for whom I was the primary caregiver at the end. The dream was so vivid. I walked into a room and she was standing there. She looked wonderful, the way she looked when she used to visit us in Jamaica in the summers when I was growing up. Aunt Winnie! I said with a rush of joy. She opened her arms and I stepped into them, and she folded me close, and I rested my head on her shoulder, and felt comforted. That was it, the whole dream. I woke up right after wondering my time was at hand, and Aunt Winnie was coming to get me. But it didn't feel that way. I kept thinking about Aunt Grace, and that I should call her. I shared the dream with her when we spoke this morning, and she said, Winnie came to tell you she's coming for me soon. No need to rush things, I told her. My dear, she said, I am in no rush, but I am ready.
Work and love, right? And you are a master at both. We don't know what kind of marks we leave in the world--think of the people who have supported you in various ways who probably have little or no idea what they did for you. Turn that around. And we who read your blog can see how your goodness and love spreads, and how your children and heart-children are so easy and happy in your presence (And of course you don't know everything. Did your mother know everything about you? It's still hard...).
ReplyDeleteFor most of us, our accomplishment is to be part of the net that holds everything together, and it takes us all, and the "big" people who get the publicity and praise and honor, they can only do what they do because of the net. Elizabeth Warren was saying something like that in the speech she got in so much trouble about, telling the businessmen they hadn't succeeded on their own. But she was right; they needed a functioning infrastructure, culture, civilization--roads, electricity, police, firefighters ;-), delivery people, common trust, even tax collectors, before they had a chance at making an enterprise work. And we can't always see what threads in the net are ours, but they're there. Your readers can see them. You're a worthy descendant of the wonderful group of sisters, your mother and your aunts, that you write about with such love.
Sally S, I appreciate this comment so much. Thank you. And you know, that speech by Elizabeth Warren about businessmen sharing the resources and infrastructure provided by taxpayer dollars is when I really began to look more closely at her as a candidate. I believe she was arguing for them to give 2 cents on every dollar above 100 million in income, or something like that, with which we could wipe out trillions in student loan debt, have universal pre K, and still have some trillions left over. She had me at student loan debt, which is truly out of control and is hobbling our current generation and delaying their ability to start their lives, marry, become parents, become homeowners. She gets it.
DeleteI feel this, too. My child has travelled and lived in distant parts for many years and yet, suddenly, she will tell us how much we mean to her and how supported she feels knowing we are "at home".
ReplyDeleteYou have every reason to trust them with their own lives. You helped them become the independent open spirits they are now.
I remember that feeling so strongly- the realization that my children's lives were their own now and I would only know what they chose to share with me. It's hard. What does it mean for their lives? What does it mean for ours? I truly wasn't sure who I was without their needing me so much.
ReplyDeleteThat dream of your Aunt Winnie was beautiful. And what your Aunt Grace said is perfect- "I am in no rush but I am ready."
Phew. She is an enlightened being for sure.
Your Aunt Grace's comments are quite profound. "It's just pain" -- I love that. Such perspective! And the confidence to step into the future no matter what. I hope I feel the same when (if!) I reach old age.
ReplyDeleteI love the conversation you had with your Aunt Grace. I will always remember her words, "I'm in no rush, but I'm ready." Reminds me of the call I made last week to my mother's youngest brother, my Uncle Sonny. He's 89 years old and is recovering from a fall and a broken hip. He wanted to talk politics. He's going to an Impeachment meeting with fellow retirees. I love these conversations with our elders. They teach us so much. My uncle said, "Robin, you're a good human being." I said, "Sonny, it's in our genes." We had a good laugh.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your wholehearted presence that clearly means so much to your Aunt Grace. Everything you wrote about in this post is illuminating. Summer tests me as well. I have no children, and you help me understand how my mother must have felt as I went out into the world. One thing I know for sure about my mother is that summer tested her to her limits.
ReplyDeleteI recognize that feeling of not knowing everything about my children after knowing everything for their childhood years. Then I think about my own growing up and how I was so separate from my parents, my mother especially. It's part of raising children but it takes some getting used to. And you will. It will become the new normal.
ReplyDeleteYour aunt sounds like a woman I wish I'd had to guide me as I was growing up. You are so fortunate. Wishing her less pain and more good days.
Can you take some time to visit Grace? She is a sweet, profound woman who has evidently made her peace.
ReplyDeleteBig sigh. The beauty of this bit of writing -- it's so evocative and you are able to bring us there. There. I'm sorry for the melancholy but feel certain it will lift and when it does, you will have written and woven such art from it.
ReplyDeleteOh that dream of your Aunt Winnie. I love getting to visit with ones who've passed on during dream time. And, your Aunt Grace sounds like a very wise soul.
ReplyDeleteI feel the same way you feel about your kids about all my loved ones (in a way). I like to be able to picture them in their environment and going about their day. When my sister moves house (she has fairly often), I have this NEED to see her new space so that I can envision her in it when I think of her.
"Because it's just pain." I love your aunt Grace.
ReplyDeleteI also love your writing. It's like a wave. I float on it and it's a lovely feeling.
Some of this may come from your feeling of vulnerability after the other half's operation . I am saying this because ,as you know sister ,I have walked the same path . Try a new adventure , no matter how flimsy or foolish . I can say this without being preachy as I am just about to start a fairly foolish project my self . See my latest post !
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely, comforting dream. And your Aunt's response is so kind and dignified. I should be so lucky. She sounds like a wonderful Aunt. Determined optimism, I like that, need to try that:)
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