Treasure Each Day

46 years ago today, my baby daughter died suddenly at the age of 8 months. At one moment, she seemed fine, although with a little congestion, and I dropped her off with her babysitter while I went to work. In a few hours, her babysitter called to say that “Daedra is having trouble breathing!” and I rushed her to the hospital. A few hours later, she was gone.

That major event, that painful loss, that poignant reminder that “you never know!” has served to shape my adult life: I've learned to take no precious moment for granted; I've learned that anything can happen at any time, so enjoy this moment, enjoy this hug, enjoy this meal – you just don't know what lies ahead.

Today, I have several “daughters” - they are not from my womb, but from a sweet and deep soul connection. They are women who have come into my life who have needed re-parenting, have needed the nurturing of a mother's heart, and have given me the privilege of loving them: some of their names include Kim, Criss, Lisa, Susan, and Laura. These are only a few. Having been a mother only briefly, mourning the loss of that child, created a large space in my heart for the many “daughters” who have come into my life since that painful loss 46 years ago. Daedra was among my greatest gifts and blessings.

In a post a few days ago, I shared some conversations which took place between me and various members of a study group to which I belong. “G's” father had suddenly become ill and “G” had emailed our group to ask for our support and prayers. I had shared in this previous post the series of events ranging from G's father's critical condition to his father's dramatic “turn around”, and shared some of the email dialogue which ensued.

Within two days of the dramatic improvement and turn-around of G's father, G sent us the following message, announcement that his father had passed:

Today @ 12:10AM my father made his transition. In the true tradition of the 50/50 There are many things that are good about his passing and many things that are painful. Sitting at the hospital watching and thinking as the warmth of his body disappeared into the atmosphere inside that building, I realized that I too had transitioned in my own way.

I have never felt more adult. I never felt more like HIS son. My father's life touched a wide circle of people. He was well-liked and respected by people who knew him in even the most casual way. His way is the way of kindness, and generosity. His way is the way of solid, dependable, organized approaches to life. Every bill, every month, paid well before time. Funny how he forgot to pass along that gene in the little package I inherited.

When I was in the first grade, my teacher, Ms. Prescod, A Jamaican,told the class a story. The night before there had been a Parents-Teacher Evening. My father happened across Ms. Prescod as she was leaving the building for home. Aas gentlemanly gesture, he offered her a ride home. When she told the class this story to the class it made a mark on me that can never be removed or even changed. She placed great emphasis on how upon arriving at her house, he waited at the curb until she entered her home. This made her feel safe, appreciated and special. Although the story slipped out of conscious memory. Nearly thirty years later I find myself doing the same thing.

I am so tired now I am nearly delirious, but when I close my human eyes and open those that only repond to wonder, I peer through a metaphorical window in my mind. I see my Daddy waiting by the curb in a light blue Valiant for me get safely into my house, whatever that turns out to be.

I can gaze softly at this now smooth face, I RECOGNIZE that I am, will be, and have always been loved. Well loved. Well loved. Well loved.

Thank you for the role you play in my life.
G


This is my response to G:

Thank you G!

Thank you for allowing us all the honor and blessing of being a part of this journey.It is a sacred journey.It is a sweet and poignant journey.It is a journey which many of us have walked, or shall soon walk...How precious it is to feel that sweet pain that comes to each of us when we say goodbye to the physical form of a beloved...in that passing of the physical and in the falling of our tears, we begin to grasp what is meant by the word "eternal" and the experience of "love"...In your beautiful sharing, you gave a gift which is priceless and eternal: you offered us the blueprint for honoring our own beloved who have passed or shall.

You have also reminded us of the gifts we leave behind when our physical presence has passed: its called memory...

May your father's sweet and timeless memory be for a blessing for you and all he touched with the substance of his life.

Amen
Sheila