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As she lay there in the hospital bed, I stared at her 1)gaunt, 2)sunken face and willed her to open her eyes. Her 3)blistered mouth hung open allowing a 4)shallow moan to escape 5)every so often—she looked like a 6)shrunken version of herself. An old woman well beyond her 71 years.
In four months this is what she has become—this 7)feisty, daily exercising, overly 8)opinionated, strong willed, world traveling woman has been eaten from the inside out by cancer. Four months! It is a shock that’s difficult for me to 9)wrap my brain around. It makes me want to tell everyone I love that I love them.
I study her face and will her to open her eyes. What will I say if she does? In the 20 years I have known this woman, I have struggled to understand her, battled her opinions, endured her criticisms, and loved her son 10)beyond measure. I think of all the times I have wanted to make her disappear. All the times I thought about what I would feel when she was gone. Relief, joy, guilt, nothing?
I think of my children who saved me from truly hating her. Earlier that day, I watched my 12-year-old who has 11)autism, whom she loved fiercely, almost obsessively. He sat on the edge of her bed and studied her face searching for his beloved “Bubbe” and wondering if she’d ever return. Austin caught her awake and looked her right in the eye—not an easy task for him. A boy of few words he said without 12)prompt, “I love you Bubbe, I hope you get better.” His words pierced my heart for I know she is not getting better.
Would she hear my silent plea and open her eyes? She is so stubborn and never cares what others think—always doing whatever she wants regardless of what others think or feel. I know this is how she is and how she will be until she takes her last breath. Will she grant me this wish and let me see what I’ll do, how I’ll feel, what I’ll say? Not yet. She decides to leave me to my thoughts.
My mind 13)meanders through the past twenty years. I realize how fragile she was when we first met only one month after her husband had died suddenly. Remembering a story she told me about her husband bringing her daffodils makes me see her through his eyes. I think of the love and attention she 14)showers on my sons and I see her through their eyes. Her stories of her childhood and her father’s unstable income makes me see why she pushes my husband to make more money. I remember her anger when we initially kept Austin’s diagnosis from her—she could not see that we needed time to adjust. 15)Blinded by her hurt of not feeling needed, she yelled “My son thinks I’m stupid!” at me in the middle of the mall that day.
All those years of feeling inadequate in her eyes. All those years of thinking her opinions and criticisms made her strong melt away in my realization that she is human. Flawed and vulnerable and 16)needy and now dying. I stare at this woman I hardly recognize and will her to open her eyes. She does and we stare at each other, the rest of the room 17)falls away.
What do I feel in this moment I’ve imagined?
Gratitude...and so I thank her. I thank her for raising a son who is the most wonderful husband and father. I thank her for her generosity that made it possible for us to begin our marriage debt free, buy our first home, and enjoy trips of a lifetime with our children. I thank her for loving my sons fiercely and unconditionally. I thank her for taking the time to learn about autism and for becoming one of a select few who have truly connected with Austin. I thank her for teaching me how to care a little less about what others think. I thank her for loving me for I know that she does even if she doesn’t always know how to show it. I thank her for teaching me that life is precious and short. I thank her for helping me realize it is good that I 18)wear my heart on my sleeve and know each day that I make sure my husband and children feel that I am proud of them and that they are loved—things that were not easy for her to do.
She thanks me for taking care of her, for loving her son, and for being a good mother to her grandsons. She tells me she hopes she’ll die soon and be at peace and thanks me for being the person to whom this can be revealed. I leave her with a kiss and a deep sadness I never expected.
她躺在医院的病床上,我凝视着她憔悴而凹陷的脸庞,期望她能睁开眼睛。她肿胀的嘴微张着,不时发出一丝微弱的呻吟——此时的她看上去就像是健康时的她的缩小版。71岁的她看上去比实际年龄老多了。
只不过四个月时间,她就变成了这副模样——这个原本个性强悍、天天运动、极度固执、意志坚强且已走遍世界的女人却已被癌症由内到外啃噬殆尽。四个月而已!这带给我的震惊让我难以接受。这让我想要对每一个我爱的人说,我爱他们。
我仔细看着她的脸,期望她能睁开眼睛。可如果她真的醒了,我会说些什么呢?在与这个女人相识的这20年里,我一直努力去理解她,与她的意见相抗衡,忍受她的批评,并无比深爱着她的儿子。我想到所有那些我希望她消失的时刻,所有那些我思考着如果她离开了我会有什么感受的时刻。如释重负?高兴?内疚?还是没感觉?
我想起了我的孩子们,是他们令我不至于真的去恨她。那天的早些时候,我看见我那12岁的孩子,他患有自闭症,可她极其溺爱他,甚至宠他宠得不能自已。他坐在她的床边,端详着她的脸庞,寻找他心爱的“布比”,想知道她到底会不会回来。奥斯丁发现她醒了,于是直视着她的眼睛——这对他来说并不容易。作为一个寡言少语的男孩,他不待提醒就立刻说道:“我爱你,布比,我希望你能好起来。”他的话刺痛了我的心,因为我知道她再也不会好起来了。
她是否能听到我无声的祈求,并睁开她的眼睛呢?她总是如此固执,从不关心他人的想法——总是做她想做的事情,不顾他人的想法或感受。我知道她这人一直就是这样的,而且直到还剩最后一口气也绝不会改变的。她这次会不会如我所愿,让我看看自己会做些什么,会有些什么感受,会说些什么?还没有。她决定让我沉浸在自己的思绪当中。
我的思绪漫步于过去20年来的回忆中。我意识到,当我们第一次见面时她是多么憔悴,那时离她丈夫猝然死去才不过一个月的时间。我想起她对我讲过的她丈夫带给她黄水仙的故事,那让我透过他的视角来看她。我想起她对我的儿子们倾注的爱和关心,这让我透过他们的视角来看她。她的童年故事,还有她父亲不稳定的收入使我明白了为什么她要督促我丈夫去赚更多的钱。我记得当我们最初对她隐瞒奥斯丁的诊断结果时,她大发雷霆——她没意识到我们需要时间来适应。不被人需要的感觉伤害了她并使她失去了理智,那天她在商场的中央对着我大叫:“我的儿子竟然认为我很愚蠢!”
多年来,在她眼里,自己有诸多不足。多年来,总在想着她的种种意见和批评,如今,我意识到她是一个普通人,她那强硬的形象竟也就消失了。有缺点、易受伤、贫困、且正在濒临死亡。我凝视着这个我几乎都快认不出来的女人,期望她能睁开眼睛。她真的睁开了双眼,我们凝视着彼此,房间里的其他景象全都消失了。
在这个我曾经设想过无数遍的时刻,我有些什么感受?
感恩……于是我感谢她。我感谢她养大了她的儿子——他是最棒的丈夫和父亲。我感谢她的慷慨,使我们能够无债一身轻地开始我们的婚姻生活,买下我们的第一套房子,与我们的孩子们享受人生之旅。我感谢她无条件地深爱着我的儿子们。我感谢她花时间去了解关于自闭症的情况,并成为真正能与奥斯丁进行沟通的少数几个人之一。我感谢她教会我如何不那么在意他人的想法。我感谢她爱我,因为我知道她确实如此,即使她并不总是知道该如何去表达这种爱。我感谢她教会我生命的宝贵与短暂。我感谢她帮助我意识到,能够坦率地表露自己的感情,确保每天都让丈夫和孩子们感觉到我为他们而骄傲,并感觉到他们被爱着,这种感觉很好——这些事对于她来说都是不容易做到的。
她感谢我照顾她,爱她的儿子,是她孙子们的好母亲。她告诉我,她希望自己会很快离去、入土为安,并感谢我是那个她可以吐露心声的人。我吻了吻她,转身离开,心里充满了从未料想到的深深的悲伤。
In four months this is what she has become—this 7)feisty, daily exercising, overly 8)opinionated, strong willed, world traveling woman has been eaten from the inside out by cancer. Four months! It is a shock that’s difficult for me to 9)wrap my brain around. It makes me want to tell everyone I love that I love them.
I study her face and will her to open her eyes. What will I say if she does? In the 20 years I have known this woman, I have struggled to understand her, battled her opinions, endured her criticisms, and loved her son 10)beyond measure. I think of all the times I have wanted to make her disappear. All the times I thought about what I would feel when she was gone. Relief, joy, guilt, nothing?
I think of my children who saved me from truly hating her. Earlier that day, I watched my 12-year-old who has 11)autism, whom she loved fiercely, almost obsessively. He sat on the edge of her bed and studied her face searching for his beloved “Bubbe” and wondering if she’d ever return. Austin caught her awake and looked her right in the eye—not an easy task for him. A boy of few words he said without 12)prompt, “I love you Bubbe, I hope you get better.” His words pierced my heart for I know she is not getting better.
Would she hear my silent plea and open her eyes? She is so stubborn and never cares what others think—always doing whatever she wants regardless of what others think or feel. I know this is how she is and how she will be until she takes her last breath. Will she grant me this wish and let me see what I’ll do, how I’ll feel, what I’ll say? Not yet. She decides to leave me to my thoughts.
My mind 13)meanders through the past twenty years. I realize how fragile she was when we first met only one month after her husband had died suddenly. Remembering a story she told me about her husband bringing her daffodils makes me see her through his eyes. I think of the love and attention she 14)showers on my sons and I see her through their eyes. Her stories of her childhood and her father’s unstable income makes me see why she pushes my husband to make more money. I remember her anger when we initially kept Austin’s diagnosis from her—she could not see that we needed time to adjust. 15)Blinded by her hurt of not feeling needed, she yelled “My son thinks I’m stupid!” at me in the middle of the mall that day.
All those years of feeling inadequate in her eyes. All those years of thinking her opinions and criticisms made her strong melt away in my realization that she is human. Flawed and vulnerable and 16)needy and now dying. I stare at this woman I hardly recognize and will her to open her eyes. She does and we stare at each other, the rest of the room 17)falls away.
What do I feel in this moment I’ve imagined?
Gratitude...and so I thank her. I thank her for raising a son who is the most wonderful husband and father. I thank her for her generosity that made it possible for us to begin our marriage debt free, buy our first home, and enjoy trips of a lifetime with our children. I thank her for loving my sons fiercely and unconditionally. I thank her for taking the time to learn about autism and for becoming one of a select few who have truly connected with Austin. I thank her for teaching me how to care a little less about what others think. I thank her for loving me for I know that she does even if she doesn’t always know how to show it. I thank her for teaching me that life is precious and short. I thank her for helping me realize it is good that I 18)wear my heart on my sleeve and know each day that I make sure my husband and children feel that I am proud of them and that they are loved—things that were not easy for her to do.
She thanks me for taking care of her, for loving her son, and for being a good mother to her grandsons. She tells me she hopes she’ll die soon and be at peace and thanks me for being the person to whom this can be revealed. I leave her with a kiss and a deep sadness I never expected.
她躺在医院的病床上,我凝视着她憔悴而凹陷的脸庞,期望她能睁开眼睛。她肿胀的嘴微张着,不时发出一丝微弱的呻吟——此时的她看上去就像是健康时的她的缩小版。71岁的她看上去比实际年龄老多了。
只不过四个月时间,她就变成了这副模样——这个原本个性强悍、天天运动、极度固执、意志坚强且已走遍世界的女人却已被癌症由内到外啃噬殆尽。四个月而已!这带给我的震惊让我难以接受。这让我想要对每一个我爱的人说,我爱他们。
我仔细看着她的脸,期望她能睁开眼睛。可如果她真的醒了,我会说些什么呢?在与这个女人相识的这20年里,我一直努力去理解她,与她的意见相抗衡,忍受她的批评,并无比深爱着她的儿子。我想到所有那些我希望她消失的时刻,所有那些我思考着如果她离开了我会有什么感受的时刻。如释重负?高兴?内疚?还是没感觉?
我想起了我的孩子们,是他们令我不至于真的去恨她。那天的早些时候,我看见我那12岁的孩子,他患有自闭症,可她极其溺爱他,甚至宠他宠得不能自已。他坐在她的床边,端详着她的脸庞,寻找他心爱的“布比”,想知道她到底会不会回来。奥斯丁发现她醒了,于是直视着她的眼睛——这对他来说并不容易。作为一个寡言少语的男孩,他不待提醒就立刻说道:“我爱你,布比,我希望你能好起来。”他的话刺痛了我的心,因为我知道她再也不会好起来了。
她是否能听到我无声的祈求,并睁开她的眼睛呢?她总是如此固执,从不关心他人的想法——总是做她想做的事情,不顾他人的想法或感受。我知道她这人一直就是这样的,而且直到还剩最后一口气也绝不会改变的。她这次会不会如我所愿,让我看看自己会做些什么,会有些什么感受,会说些什么?还没有。她决定让我沉浸在自己的思绪当中。
我的思绪漫步于过去20年来的回忆中。我意识到,当我们第一次见面时她是多么憔悴,那时离她丈夫猝然死去才不过一个月的时间。我想起她对我讲过的她丈夫带给她黄水仙的故事,那让我透过他的视角来看她。我想起她对我的儿子们倾注的爱和关心,这让我透过他们的视角来看她。她的童年故事,还有她父亲不稳定的收入使我明白了为什么她要督促我丈夫去赚更多的钱。我记得当我们最初对她隐瞒奥斯丁的诊断结果时,她大发雷霆——她没意识到我们需要时间来适应。不被人需要的感觉伤害了她并使她失去了理智,那天她在商场的中央对着我大叫:“我的儿子竟然认为我很愚蠢!”
多年来,在她眼里,自己有诸多不足。多年来,总在想着她的种种意见和批评,如今,我意识到她是一个普通人,她那强硬的形象竟也就消失了。有缺点、易受伤、贫困、且正在濒临死亡。我凝视着这个我几乎都快认不出来的女人,期望她能睁开眼睛。她真的睁开了双眼,我们凝视着彼此,房间里的其他景象全都消失了。
在这个我曾经设想过无数遍的时刻,我有些什么感受?
感恩……于是我感谢她。我感谢她养大了她的儿子——他是最棒的丈夫和父亲。我感谢她的慷慨,使我们能够无债一身轻地开始我们的婚姻生活,买下我们的第一套房子,与我们的孩子们享受人生之旅。我感谢她无条件地深爱着我的儿子们。我感谢她花时间去了解关于自闭症的情况,并成为真正能与奥斯丁进行沟通的少数几个人之一。我感谢她教会我如何不那么在意他人的想法。我感谢她爱我,因为我知道她确实如此,即使她并不总是知道该如何去表达这种爱。我感谢她教会我生命的宝贵与短暂。我感谢她帮助我意识到,能够坦率地表露自己的感情,确保每天都让丈夫和孩子们感觉到我为他们而骄傲,并感觉到他们被爱着,这种感觉很好——这些事对于她来说都是不容易做到的。
她感谢我照顾她,爱她的儿子,是她孙子们的好母亲。她告诉我,她希望自己会很快离去、入土为安,并感谢我是那个她可以吐露心声的人。我吻了吻她,转身离开,心里充满了从未料想到的深深的悲伤。