Monday, September 05, 2011

Lost in Thought

The other evening I was sitting alone at the dining room table, lost in thought.

I was thinking of my father. And my mother.

I was thinking that had my father still been alive today, he would be 91 years old. My mother is at the threshold of turning 80. Yes, eleven years' difference between the two of them and it was never such an issue, as far as I could see.

But my father always had health issues, whatever his age, and those issues  often overshadowed his life and especially the quality of his life in his latter years.

I was sitting there and wondering what their lives would have been like had he still been living -- and if the health issues would not have been such an issue. Would the 80 vs. 91 years have become really noticeable? Was my mother better off in her widowed state than had my father lived as he had in his final days, with my mother a major caregiver whose own life juices were visibly being slowly sucked out of her... I was afraid to even come up with the answer to that.

And as I sat there in my contemplative state, I sensed someone sit down beside me. I looked up and saw my daughter. She put her arm around me, rested her head on my shoulder, and said, "You looked as if you could use a hug!"

I was so moved by her compassionate sense of insight. Were my feelings written all over my face? Or is my daughter simply one intuitive teen?

I told her I'd been thinking about Zaydie and Bubby and that indeed I could use a hug. No doubt the shame I felt in even contemplating the second question had somehow shown on my face and stirred something inside Adina.

Although I might've been lost in thought, it felt so nice to have someone by my side to lead me back....


Robin said...

Your daughter sounds like a lovely girl.

It's hard not to have thoughts like that and ask oneself those sorts of questions. My parents are getting older with more and more health scares, and both have expressed the wish not to be a burden on each other or my brother and I. Families can be sad and lovely.

Carmi said...

I'm just enough of a believer in bashert to think that the seeds planted in your parents have grown through you and into her, and that her reaching out to you is a direct result of those who have built foundations before her.

I was mulling over similar thoughts today, and reading over some of my writings from just after my father passed away - two years this week. I came across a comment from you and thought I'd drop by. How poignant that this was your most recent post.