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A different kind of holiday feeling
My mother is dying of cancer.
That's a heck of a story to write for the holidays, you say. And I thought so too. Until I thought about this season of giving and receiving, and how it fits with the give and take I and my family are experiencing right now.
Recently diagnosed with Adeno-carcinoma, an aggressive and essentially untreatable cancer, my mom -- practically not a sick day in her life -- now faces death. And so do we, her children and grandchildren. The day after surgery, when she asked me, "Am I okay?" I broke down like her little child. And she said, "Well, you know, I've had a wonderful life."
That was before Thanksgiving, and I thought we had little to be thankful for. Since then, I've learned a lesson or two, once again from my mother, about giving and receiving, and I have much to be thankful for.
As Christmas approaches, I am learning to give. And I thought I was a great giver&emdash;lots of presents for my kids, money to the poor, food and clothing for the homeless. Now I'm leaning to offer the hardest thing in the world for me to give, myself. My own time, my work, my goals are packed away like tennis racquets, waiting for better weather.
Every day, I drive to the hospital to visit my mom. I talk to her doctors, bring her family news, adjust her tubes, rub her back, read to her, whatever she wants. And every afternoon when I'm about to leave, she holds my hand and says, "Thanks, Linny." And I know I've given a gift more precious than anything under the tree.
The holiday season is a time of family unity, a time to share memories, meals, jostling, jokes, and to give and take presents. Most of my extended family lives back East, and we rarely do more than trade greetings and gifts at Christmas time. This year my brothers and sister and I talk on the phone almost daily, closer than we've ever been. Thanks to Mom.
My two teens&emdash;every other year consumed by what they want for Christmas -- are now wondering what they can do for Nana, to make her holiday happier. Little Anna doesn't understand what's going on, but she knows her Nana is missing at Sunday dinner, and asks why? So do I.
Together, the five of us plan how we can make my mother comfortable here, in our home, so she will not have to die in the hospital. It will use up our time, our space, our strength, maybe everything we have, except our souls, which will be so enriched. And that's the marvelous gift my mom gives all of us, even now, on the eve of her last Christmas.
We have cried this holiday season, cried until the backs of our eyes are sore. But who does not feel some degree of pain and suffering this time of year, when families come together, with such compressed intensity? Discord, disappointment, unfulfilled dreams are as much a part of the holidays as laughter, full hearts, and full tummies. The important thing, the most critical factor in this bitter-sweet equation/occasion, is what comes after the equal sign. If the result is positive, the family gains strength, intimacy, love.
And so it is. My mother is 77 years old, and teaching us that the cycle of life is coming to a close, for her. She gave four children life, and then gave so much more, as mother and grandmother. We received it eagerly, selfishly. Now we are giving her strength and spirit to finish her journey. She receives it, with wisdom and grace.
This holiday season, as you hurry to buy and bake and beat those last minute demands, stop for a minute, and think about living and about giving. Then, give up one batch of cookies for twenty minutes of reading with your young child. Or, forget that trip to the mall to buy another gift for your husband, give him a phoneless, kidfree, candle-lit dinner, instead. Give those you love a little more of you this year. Not your delicious desserts or your beautifully wrapped boxes, but you. All of you. Don't announce it, don't package it, don't explain it, just do it.