Monday, January 21, 2013

Lucky

The office was busy and I had no one who wanted a visit that day, so I offered to drop off a bundle of adult diapers. When I drove up to the house I struggled with a sense of envy. It was not just a beautiful house, it was a fabulously beautiful house. The kind of house that makes me dream of lots of family and laughter, a happy marriage, and wonderful celebrations. I went inside and everything was beautiful there, too. Fresh muffins, and lovely furniture, warm and inviting. I made a little small talk and prepared to leave, and then something made me pause and ask if there was anything else I could do. The woman, caregiver to her bedridden parent, began to cry. She talked first about difficulties in her family. When she learned that some of her stories were familiar to my own life, she opened up even more. In a torrent of words, she told me of the sadness, the dysfunction, the betrayal and the pain that had lived in every room of that house. She told me stories about generations of loss and mental illness. So much hurt.   As is often the case, although some of it was just the way the chips sometimes fall, so much else was avoidable, preventable.    And she told me how much she hated this house, this prison, this stronghold of unhappy memories.     I listened and listened and listened, absorbing as much of her pain as I could. I gave her a few ideas for going forward, and she clung to them like lifelines. She hugged and hugged and hugged me. When I left nearly two hours later, the house looked very different. And I was happy to get home to my own.



5 comments:

Debbie said...

I really appreciate the stories you share, all the pain and emotion involved. So many of us have walked in deep dark places and yet we only show the mask we chose to wear to the world.
You have a rare ability to sense so much and carry much away with you. There are not many who can do that. I pray your mountains will be made level.

Gayle said...

Totally off from your story... but... I love lists, too. I used to make a lot and now I never do. Maybe that is part of my unhappiness (ya, I pretend a lot).

You can check of #26 on your list. You invited the neighbor in. She finally came back for wine. Doesn't that count? You have 2012: The Plan... will you make a 2013 or just continue what was finished from 2012?

Love the year of Ridiculous Fun!! (Now... if you would just add photos to the blog of you having the fun it would be perfect. :)

Carrie P. said...

so sad but so nice that you were there for her. so much pain.

spindelmaker said...

HM. Isn´t that a wake-up-call to appreciate what we´ve got?! How lucky we are to have family and friends and a good life. I know I will never be rich in cash, I don´t have a fancy new house. But I am able to take care of myself, my house is cosy, and I am surrounded by people who love me, even though they know me! ;-) I feel so blessed! Thank you so much for sharing, Gail!

Janet Bocciardi said...

What a lesson here... We know not what paths others walk and the view from the outside can be very different than the truth. I could feel your desire to help and then your desire to get out and home. Thanks for sharing your stories.