new life makes losing life easier to understand
I actually do remember the first time I heard Jack Johnson's 2005 album,
In Between Dreams. Many of the lyrics spoke so strongly to my life at the time, I felt like I could relate directly to each song. But it wasn't until this weekend that I realised just how closely to
Track #10. It's a very simple song, only two verses, about the constant necessity of one life to pass away so that another can be born. The lyric creates in me an image of a scale seeking balance, adding and removing, giving and taking away.
Two weeks ago both of my grandmothers were admitted to hospitals on either end of the country. My mother, a certified medical transcriptionist and familiar with many things medical, flew 3,000 miles without hesitation to be with her mother; no idea of my grandmother's actual condition. And my father, who was already visiting his own mother, attempted to translate the intense medical jargon with little or no insight, all the while constantly emailing the rest of us to inform us as best he could of her condition. For the first few days, neither my mother, nor my father, now divorced, new of the other's mother's condition. Needless to say, it was a terrifying week. My brothers and I were forced to stay behind and wait for phone calls, never knowing what we might hear. Each woman's condition was utterly confusing (even to their doctors) and for a short time we had little or no information other than, "She's doing fine." At last the confusion and misinformation has finally given way to a practical understanding of each woman's condition, thanks in no small part to my husband's wealth of clinical knowledge, albeit veterinary rather than human. My mother's mother has a promising prognosis; her recent radiation therapy for cervical cancer was a success, and she is, at this time, cancer-free. She told me she expects to live "at least 5-10 more years, maybe even 15!" Unfortunately, the outlook is not so bright for my father's mother. A woman of great strength and pride, she has never been one for "drastic measures." Diagnosed with leukemia, her doctors have given her 6 months to 1 year to live. Chemotherapy
could extend that time, and has the potential to force her cancer into remission, but the success rate in people of her age is so small, she has elected to decline the treatment. So in just a few weeks, my brothers and I will be descending upon her to tell her we love her and to begin the long process of saying goodbye to woman we have known and loved for so long.
One of my dearest friends, a former college roommate, is expecting her first child literally, any day now. She and her husband were married the summer after graduation and have been eagerly awaiting their little one's arrival with anticipation and excitement. Her skills as a mother were obvious to all of us from the very beginning of our friendship. She's smart and witty, and has a heart as big as anyone I've ever had the pleasure to know. I have no doubt that she and her husband will offer everything they have to this child, and will raise her to be an incredible and intelligent woman. Melissa is a wonderful, beautiful woman; the perfect example of what we future mommies strive to be, and I cannot wait to welcome her little girl into the world.
As one dear loved one prepares to leave my life, another is introduced. This is a year that may be marked by my grandmother's passing, but it will also be a year to welcome new life. I am determined to be mindful of both.
