In my neck of the woods, literally, the peak season for color has passed. It’s a peculiar thing. You notice the maples begin to change ever so slightly, then all at once they are vibrant with ambers, ochers, umbers, scarlet, and auburn. The next thing you know, branches abruptly shed their leaves, the garish gusts of wind tumbling and colorfully carpeting lawns, streets, and sidewalks; suddenly the chance to see autumn’s gaudy display is gone.
I wonder if our experience in life is sometimes similar.
In my neck of the woods, literally, the peak season for color has passed. It’s a peculiar thing. You notice the maples begin to change ever so slightly, then all at once they are vibrant with ambers, ochers, umbers, scarlet, and auburn. The next thing you know, branches abruptly shed their leaves, the garish gusts of wind tumbling and colorfully carpeting lawns, streets, and sidewalks; suddenly the chance to see autumn’s gaudy display is gone.
I wonder if our experience in life is sometimes similar.
It is so easy to get caught up in the never-ending, gotta-get-it-done list of our day-to-day, that we often miss the opportunity to witness some beautiful things.
A dear friend and her siblings just bid goodbye to their mother. Of advanced years, the lady had suffered a significant stroke some seven years ago.
The grown children reminisced about their mom, characterizing her through most of their lives as someone who took care of others. She also tended to be somewhat worried and uptight. They recalled her as good hearted and generous, but hesitant to try something new, and loathe to ask for or to accept help.
The stroke put this lady in an unfamiliar position, one of needing to rely on a network of caregivers. But rather than bemoan her condition and draw inward, she embraced her new situation and allowed others to do for her.
At first, this meant working through a course of therapies so as to be able to live at home again. Then it meant letting her husband and children do for her what she could not do for herself. As she’d lost the ability to swallow effectively, this included taking her nourishment via a feeding tube.
What is more, she allowed herself to leave her comfort zone. Never before wanting to be the person being assisted, she chose to accept what assistance she needed and to get on with life.
With her loved ones’ help, she traveled to the family cottage for a few days each summer. She attended the weddings of family friends and her grandchildren’s graduation parties.
Even better, her offspring remembered, she stopped being anxious about the details and arrangements for get-togethers and outings; she cheerfully decided she was no longer in charge and could simply enjoy.
My two sons rode with me to her memorial Mass, the woman’s local family branch having been a part of their lives since elementary school. I was proud to have them with me in emotional support of our dear friends and glad they got to hear stories about the deceased almost thriving in the last years of her life.
I like to think that after the stroke, she made the choice to carefully observe and enjoy living as best she could. Seeing the colors begin to change, she decided she would not miss the gorgeous exhibition of existence again.
Hopefully the boys and I will remember to keep our eyes more open, because there’s a lot of something beautiful going on if we just let ourselves see.
Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com
