Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a nice a walk with a friend this morning and we talked enthusiastically about a book we'd both read:  Good morning, Midnight.  It's a science fiction book with a big heart and choc a block with surprises.  It's a joy to read and even more to think of it after.  To tell the plot might spoil the pleasure of reading it.  Like a lot of good things, I came upon it by accident on a table of not-so-new paperbacks in a bookstore where my older daughter lives.  The treasures we find!  I may have to buy it again, as I've given it to the friend and now her husband is reading it.  The day is sunny today, I've done some online shopping tasks, I've talked with a few friends and made plans to see a few others.  I'm less tired and more optimistic.  Funny how that works!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I did our annual physicals this morning, but I'm not done.  I have to get a CT scan to check on my kidney stones.  My kind doctor spent a lot of time reassuring me about our daughter's cancer.  I appreciate it, because he is great at empathizing.  He offered anti-depressants as well.  I said I had my practice.  We had a lovely time for a week with our daughter, granddaughter and other kids and another grandson.  My daughter has lost her hair, but is gallant and energetic most of the time.  She is working and socializing and living her life passionately, as she has always done.  I will try to emulate her.  The holiday season is upon us, and I mailed holiday outfits to two grandchildren and a gift for my best friend's birthday today.  Next I will tackle Hanukkah and then Christmas.  In between is our younger daughter's birthday, our granddaughter's dad's birthday and another close friend's birthday.  Plenty to keep me busy and engaged and then there is the Christmas music, which I have on my radio in the car.  My granddaughter and I sang carols whenever we were in the car when we were together.  Fun!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

So we did see the opera Manon yesterday and it did pull me away from my worries.  I was too busy feeling sorry for the terrible costume they put the soprano in during act two.  It was a kind of velour or plush gigantic bath towel which made her look like an overstuffed sofa, though it was a lovely shade of pale lilac.  They could have searched the world over and not found anything more hideous and unflattering.  And yet, the voices and music were sublime, and what could one think but that a heavenly being had gifted these two singers with angels' voices.  The silly plot was forgotten, the fact that Manon was an idiot, the implausible death scene, the strange sets and use of party balloons; all was forgiven.  I shouted Brava, Bravo and clapped until my arms were hurting.  The beauty of the sound was hopeful.  After all, if humans can sing like that, anything is possible.  We might cure cancer if our souls reach high enough.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

When you're worried about something, at least when I am, I clam up after the initial reaction.  Anything I say out loud seems old and trite and without feeling.  There is a numbness.  Now that lack of speaking is depression, but it is my inclination.  I've been over and over the issue in my head, and laid awake in the middle of the night spinning the information around and around.  I'm tired of it.  Such is my state of mind or speech right now.  I don't want to discuss our daughter's condition, but nothing else seems worth discussing instead.  So I withdraw.  I can see this.  But maybe I need to withdraw.  Take a break.  Just wash the dishes, do the laundry, take out the trash.  These are comforting, mundane tasks.  The day is beautiful and we are going to an opera this afternoon, which I welcome as a distraction, and there will be the music, the melodrama, the lights, sets, costumes and the sublime voices.  An afternoon outside of myself and my own drama.  I look forward to it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My cousin just sent me a youtube video of a silly song he likes.  His father just died, and I'm worried about my daughter, but life goes on, and we grab the joy as well as swim through the sorrow.  Life is a gift, and he hasn't forgotten that, and neither have I.  We love and when we do we are vulnerable, fragile as newborn babies.  Love means loss at times, and hollow spots in our insides.  But that's okay.  There are so many memories tucked away in there as well, and we can visit and revisit them whenever we want.  My cousin is an enthusiast, and I am as well.  I've tried to guide my kids to the amazing blessings of life, and I'd say I succeeded.  Treasuring our humanity is important.  So it comes with a few hitches.  Life is still wondrous, surprising and a most glorious gift.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had heavy rain all night without letup, and my husband suggested we leave the window open so we could hear it.  It was both comforting, as we always fear drought here, and disconcerting.  Kind of like my feelings right now.  A jumble.  This morning I go to the eye doctor's, which makes me jumpy.  Then this afternoon the therapist, whom I seldom see but need while our daughter is struggling with treatment and her diagnosis.  I know the only person who can keep me balanced is myself, but she has known me for fifteen years, so her empathy is a touchstone for me.  A few days ago was the anniversary of my mother's death, and this time of year is hard for me anyway.  And my daughter struggling with cancer brings me back to my mother's cancer when she was 34 and I was barely 14 and my brother 11.  Nobody had ever lived with that type of brain cancer, but they tried a new chemo concoction, and she survived, and when she died many years later it was a heart attack, not the cancer returning.  But I'm thinking of the terrible lack of support my brother and I had, as we had just moved across the country and knew no one.  There was no one to talk to.  My granddaughter has a large support system, and people to talk with.  But my heart knows the confusion and fear that a child faces with a sick parent.  Rain without letup.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The last two weeks have been tumultuous.  We've been helping our older daughter through brain radiation, supporting her and our granddaughter, and in a constant state of "Don't Know".  This will continue when she begins her chemo, and her future uncertain.  Though I know everybody's future is uncertain, or certain, if you will, my hopes for her long life and lack of suffering can't help but surface.  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, well, actually I wake up every night in the middle of the night, and I don't remember my daughter has this diagnosis hanging over her for a minute.  Then I remember.  How is it for her?  Unbearable at times, I assume.  She is being brave and positive most of the time, and going about her work, and parenting and relationships as best she can.  She is asking for help when she needs it.  Her courage fires up my own.
I lost a dear friend last week as well and an Uncle.  What an autumnal season this truly is.  My sadness is flowing freely and yet also my gratitude for having these dear ones in my life and the lessons they have taught and our teaching me.