I catch the sphere of emotion that descends on me from the brief interchange and file it away. I enter back into my office making apologies for disturbing the client’s session. Our children depend on us, too, for emotional
comfort and I knew accepting our daughter in law's call was priority. I return to quiet and was as present as I could be under such circumstances. I gather my
thoughts to continue treatment. This was an emotional week for me.
As I rejoice in a new life being brought into our world, I got word
of another dear one passing on just days earlier. Hattie, my best friend's mother lost her battle with cancer. The last visit I made during her convalescence, Hattie asked me to look after my friend and her granddaughter. She was an example of an invested grandmother. She
picked her granddaughter up from school regularly, worked on homework, participated in supporting her at swim meets and piano recitals. I knew her loss was going to be hard to grieve.
Hattie was born into the greatest
generation. A godly woman whose belief
system was strong and defined. I envied
her resolve. And for years, I comforted myself in her style of a defined faith. One that fit
within the boxes that I had been taught.
As I listened to the pastor preach her funeral, I had grown into living a grace-filled approach to life, valuing truth and listening to the Spirit's leading. The pastor encouraged us to cease depending on religious ritual to
be a good Christian, rather strive to develop the inner-quiet of contemplative worship. The doing of deeds while valuable is more about me, the inner-quiet about a reliance on God's leading. The
pastor’s words seem to slip over the tops of many of those sitting in the
memorial pews, however, I perked up in my seat and listened intently. It was not what I had expected to hear that
afternoon at this memorial. It spoke to my heart about a life well-lived. Hattie, an elegant lady, loved the Lord and walked with Him
daily. As I fiddled with my bulletin, I imagined her stepping into eternity with full sight, while we remain looking into a cloudy mirror filled with mystery. We will miss her, my dear friend and her daughter most of all.
The Lord brought to my mind my own mother,
born the same year as Hattie, her steps slowing and her memory fading a bit.
I wondered how long I have to enjoy her laugh and hear her stories. She, too is of that great generation and I realized one by one they are marching on before us. I must come face to face with my own mortality as I am soon stepping into grandmotherhood with the arrival of
my grandson. I am overcome. This precious, new life is coming to us. My sadness and joy were intermingled.
My therapy session comes to a close. Before I continue on with sessions, I take a moment to hit the
contact for mom. I wonder if she is napping
in her chair or putting together her puzzles. I hear her pick up the
phone. “How's you’re day, Mom?
I am only hours way from me becoming a grandmother and I am wondering how I got here. It was just yesterday I held his father in my own arms. As excited as I am, I just needed to hear your voice."
I am only hours way from me becoming a grandmother and I am wondering how I got here. It was just yesterday I held his father in my own arms. As excited as I am, I just needed to hear your voice."
| I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence. |
CONVERSATION