Full Circle
My mother wants me to ask a question on her new relationship. She left my dad and a 32 year marriage even though she is terminally ill. I took her out on her 50th birthday, and she met a gentleman. Since then they moved in together and are inseparable.
I see she is happier now than she was with my father. She lost a lot, a ten-room house, her Lincoln Continental, and her personal belongings. Today she just shrugs. She is happy, and as long as she is happy, I think that is all that should matter.
Now she lives in a little white house with the picket fence she always dreamed of, and there is a pond nearby where she can feed the wild geese. For the first time she finally feels true love. She sometimes says she misses her past lifestyle but would never give up what she has now.
What I am frightened about is that she goes into severe depressions for no reason at all. She says she doesn't want any pain at the end and would rather eliminate any sorrow she has. Is this a natural reaction?
Robin
Robin, your mother's depression and your own, which you don't mention, have a known cause. She is dying. It is as if she is stuck on the railroad tracks, her seatbelt jammed, and she can't get out of the car. A train is coming, but your mother's train is weeks or months from impact.
Instead of life passing before her eyes in an instant, she has time to dissect everything she did, or failed to do, in life. You and your mother are up against the absolute, up against how precious life is. She is still alive, still reaching for love and happiness, those things which are so important when the end is in sight.
Conversations begin and end. We begin school and we leave school. We start friendships, we end friendships. We get jobs and leave jobs. We sit down for breakfast, and before we know it, it is time for lunch.
We are constantly going from beginning to beginning, from ending to ending. From the large to the small, change is constant. A teacher once said, if our lives didn't end, it would be a real problem for us.
The message we would give you is that you never give up. You don't leave before this movie is done. You don't leave the table until you have drained your glass. The only sin is to lose hope. You keep living right to the end. You never stop. At the last moment, you are still there.
Wayne & Tamara
(From the column for the week of April 30, 2001)
Passing The Torch
Five months ago I met a guy, 21, and we fell in love. I am 26. I've come to accept that because I look a lot younger, younger guys will always find me attractive. I got some good advice once that if the relationship is good and makes me happy, people around me will learn to accept the person.
Being an African doesn't help the situation because relationships between older women and younger men aren't quite accepted yet. However, my boyfriend and I are doing fine, and my friends and his have accepted us.
All would be well except a month after I met my boyfriend, my brother died. My brother was the single most important person in my life. He is the reason I am the successful and smart person I am today. As the song says, "he was my everything, the center of my world."
Everything I did was so he could be proud of me. I never made a move or important decision without asking his advice. Now that he is gone, I don't see the point in anything anymore. If the reward won't be the proud look on his face, then there is no point in doing it.
Sometimes I wonder if I should ask my boyfriend where the relationship is going, or just go with the flow and take things as they come. I know it sounds silly, but to me my brother was right there next to God.
Kesi
Kesi, wounds take time to heal. But all wounds, to our body or to our spirit, follow a normal pattern of healing. Now is the time to grieve and heal, not the time to decide on the future of your new relationship.
When we are young, our reason for achievement and our reason for being depend on other people. As we mature, we understand the real reason for accomplishment grows out of ourselves.
It is our nature to express our capacities. To fail to express everything within us is to fail to live. Your brother understood this, and that is why he gave so much to you. He would not want you to withdraw from life, but to become the kind of beacon to others he was to you.
Edith Wharton said, "There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." You were the mirror reflecting your brother's light. Now you can be the candle passing the light on. Perhaps one day you will again see your brother's light, shining from the eyes of your own child.
Wayne & Tamara
(From the column for the week of April 15, 2002)
A Life Touched
Back when I was in grammar school, every once and awhile I would meet up with a girl my age and talk. Lisa never was around much, but she was always very sweet and nice. In 5th grade she was assigned to my class.
She was absent a lot, and one day I had the courage to ask why. She told me she was sick, and she explained she wore a wig because her medicine made her lose her hair. We left it at that. Anytime Lisa came to class--a rarity--I would hang with her on the playground.
I received much ridicule from my friends for this because they thought I was snubbing them for Lisa. My family upbringing taught me to be nice, and I felt Lisa's needs were much more important than others I knew.
It had been months since Lisa was in class, and one day our teacher was crying. She explained Lisa died the day before and would no longer be our classmate. She told us Lisa fought a battle with leukemia for years.
I was stunned and shocked. Lisa never spoke of her illness as if it could kill her, and I was a very innocent girl in these matters. Well, all those years I have kept Lisa in my mind and heart. When I pass milestones in my life, I reflect on Lisa and say a prayer for her.
I've had strong feelings of late to locate her mother and father. I'd like to tell them that though they never met me, their daughter had a sweet, profound effect on my life. I have no idea what her parents' first names are and don't have money to hire a detective. I read your column and realize you are not detectives, but hope you can point me in the right direction.
I pray regularly and believe something or someone is encouraging me to make this connection. I hope my connection would not hurt or upset. Lisa was such a lovely girl. Maybe her parents would be comforted that after all these years they are not the only ones who remember her.
Cynthia
Cynthia, start with the school. You may get a lead from a former classmate, alumni group, teacher, or the parent and teacher association. Don't overlook the newspaper of record where you used to live. It probably published birth and death records including parents' names. Former neighbors may also help.
Reference librarians are invaluable. They can steer you to public government records and genealogy groups, the experts at tracking families. From among these sources, you will find someone who can help. Our lives are our relationships, and sensing a deep purpose is natural.
Tamara
(From the column for the week of February 17, 2003)
Still In Love
I am dating Bud, a 52-year-old widower. His wife, Bianca, dropped dead of a heart attack on the ski slopes 18 months ago. He told me psychologically he is ready to move on, but the house has been left exactly the same.
Her clothes are still hanging in the closet, her perfumes and brushes still on the dresser, her sunglasses still on her desk. Pictures of them abound, and the urn with her ashes is somewhere in the house. I didn't ask where.
I haven't said a word about any of this, but I think it is a little bit strange. Recently we went boating, and the inside of the boat is the same as the house. I met Bianca's best friend Ava. In 48 hours she mentioned Bianca at least ten times, and even asked Bud to bring out pictures of one of their last vacations together.
I thought this insensitive and thoughtless on Ava's part. Am I overly sensitive? Is Bud still grieving? I am not sure I want to meet any more of Bud's friends if they are going to spend the entire time talking about a man's dead wife. I don't know what to say except that I have lost loved ones too.
Laura
Laura, if I lost Tamara the opening would not be there for another woman. Our lives are that tightly interwoven.
Bud's house is a testament to his love. It may take years or decades for him to move on. Or Bud may never love another woman as he loved Bianca. The connection he lost was his alone. It is not for you to set a timetable for him or for his friends.
Wayne
(From the column for the week of October 29, 2001)
