I just a spent another few days in Michigan.
I don't share much about my parents on this blog...other than the fact that I have been driving the 6 hours to see them just as often as I can...usually once or twice a month, because their health is declining! My dad has bone cancer, my mom has memory issues.
I can't bring myself to call it what it is!
Even after all of this time...these words sting like a knife and bring tears to the eyes!
This Thanksgiving day my dad turns 90 years old...on the same day that my Grand daughter turns 1!!
How blessed I have been to have my parents this long...and both relatively healthy until this year!
In the past some of my family, along with my parents have come to Indiana for Thanksgivng. This year...unsure of what was ahead...we decided if we were fortunate enough to still have dad with us we would get everyone together and spend it with them in Michigan. All of their children...grand children...and great grand children together for Thanksgiving.
This is our plan and I'm praying it lines up with
God's plan!
About a week or so ago...I got an email from my husband. He had surprised me with this story...which touched me more than you can know! I had no idea he had noticed the shell``...that I myself had been noticing and wondering about! I decided that I would like to share his writing with you!
Listening
to the shell
-
During
a recent visit to my wife’s parent’s house, I found an old and odd souvenir.
Sitting alone on a shelf was a large conch shell collecting dust. After blowing
off some of the dust, I could find nothing on the shell to identify where it
had come from, or any indication as to its age. And knowing my mother in-law,
do not know what would have prompted her to buy it in the first place. I am just
assuming it came from some distant vacation taken while both my in-laws were
younger, happier, and more care free. The shell, if you could ask my mother
in-law, means something, and I am confident that back in the day held special
memories for her. These memories are still found on the inside of the shell,
just waiting for someone to lend a mindful ear and listen carefully.
With an eager grin, I followed my own
memories from childhood, and held the shell next to my ear so I could “hear the
ocean.” As a child full of youthful imagination, I believed that the soft hiss
was actually the ocean trapped inside, and no matter where I went, I could carry
the ocean with me in a shell.
The best part of taking the shell is that I
could take it and share the sound with anyone willing to listen. Of course, I
would also then have their second ear to listen to my story of when, and where,
and embellished with other special bits that made the journey to the ocean oh
so special. The story time would really become even more special if the
listener had a tale to share after listening to their version of the ocean
within. The key to success was understanding that it wasn’t the ocean you
heard, but the tiny feet of a distant memory charging forward to be heard from
again.
All these years later, listening to the shell offers
an entirely different opportunity. Listening to the ebb and flow of the
silence, I can easily slip away for a few moments of “me time” and walk the
South Carolina coast on Paradise Island as a child. Picking up Hermit crabs,
sand dollars, and tasting the salt of the ocean for the first time. Changing
ears, I can feel the hot Hawaiian sun on my skin, and once again walk the beach
of Waikiki hand in hand with my wife. Feeling the sand squish between my toes, and
hear the gentle lapping of water on sand. The warm gentle breeze cooling
freshly baked skin. Switching back again, I can escape to a vacation yet to be
taken, to remove a wish from my bucket, and fish for bones along the Key West
highway. In any scenario, the tiny feet of memory rush in and take me away
immediately, and the journey is always pleasant.
It has always been painful hearing the
words cancer or dementia, even more so when applied to someone you love. The
pain doesn’t lessen with time, but grows as I stand idly by and watch the individual
diseases cover each of them separately, yet together, with a thick pall of age
and pending death. Both are aware that I am there, but neither is capable of
exhibiting the life that formally rang through. What remains are two people
hollowed from the wages of their individual struggles, but hallowed for the
lives they have shared with each other. They talk about their day, recounting
how well they slept or didn’t. How good they feel today, or don’t. Never really
complaining, trying to sound hopeful or optimistic, and somehow reciting the
words that they believe we want to hear. Both saying all this with all the
strength that they can muster, with the sincere belief that in some small way,
they are comforting us, their children.
Both people are not who they used to be.
The diseases have changed them permanently, and have diminished them
physically. Although significantly different physically, much like the conch, they
still have much to share. As often as possible, I visit and hold the “shells”
as close as possible. When they talk about having a bad day, I hear a
Strawberry story of a field fire that destroyed the family crops. When they
talk about having a good day, I see a “speckled hound dog under a little red
wagon” or or remember how a little girl started life in a homemade incubator
made from canning jars, a shoe box, and undying faith in God. On the rare
occasion that laughter is part of the day, it’s easy to remember that laughter
always started with any story that started with “one time me and Ben D. …..”
These “shells” will never have to worry
about being found on a shelf, nor be concerned with collecting dust from years
of neglect. I will bring myself to hug these shells more tightly, and listen more
closely than ever, with my heart. There are numerous memories that still want
to ring through what is happening today. And still more memories to load into
the shell for later……
I just ask that you would say a prayer for my parents and the family!
Thank you so much!
and please, take the time with your parents while you can!
I want to have no regrets later!
God Bless
Sharon
.
