Mortality
If you live a normal childhood, it's rare that you spend your time thinking about who will die next. Growing up, we hear about older relatives, perhaps older grandparents passing on, but this doesn't really have much of an impact on your young life.
I always thought myself to be lucky to grow up with both sets of grandparents. Not only were they alive during my childhood and most of my young adult life, but I saw them literally every single week until I was 18. Friday nights we spent in Queens with my mother's parents and either Saturday or Sunday was spent in Washington Heights (later they moved to the Upper West Side) with my father's parents. At times I thought it was a bit much, but then when I realized how close the bonds were with my grandparents, as opposed to my friend's bonds with theirs, and recognized how priceless it was.
I never experienced a close relative's death until the summer of 2001, when my father's father passed away. I can say that I was genuinely shocked, since it was my grandmother, his wife, who was sick all the time. She suffered from osteoporosis, lupus, and a bunch of other things that made her body brittle and ache all of the time. My grandfather wasn't 100% healthy himself, but was doing pretty well for a guy his age. Then one year his heart just decided to slowly fail him, but compared to his health beforehand, his deterioration happened rather quickly. And, as is quite common with older couples, my grandmother passed away 13 months later.
My mother's parents were pretty healthy, given their age, most of my life too. I remember when I was little, watching my grandmother prepare her insulin injections on Saturday mornings, whenever I would sleep over. To me, that was just a fact of life-- Savta had diabetes, but she handled it quite well and kept it in check. Then one day, Saba was told he had prostate cancer. The cancer was removed, he had some radiation treatments, and all was fine. Until he started forgetting his keys. Then forgetting where he parked the car. Then forgetting the days. And then forgetting our names. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in the mid-1990's (I don't remember when anymore, we've been living with it for so long it's just become another fact of life). That hit the family real hard. My father always called my grandfather an ox, because of how big and strong he was. Running into him was like running into a defensive end-- you just bounced right off and fell hard to the ground. So it was difficult seeing our grandfather struggle and watching his mind and body deteriorate before our very eyes. So slowly...
But my grandmother, the true matriarch of the family, always kept everything together. Despite my grandfather's illness, she made sure our family traditions continued like nothing ever changed. And I dare say that my family-- all of us, from parents, children, aunts, and uncles-- grew closer as the years went by and as we were called into duty to help take care of our Saba.
But time passes so quickly and the donimos eventually fall. And my grandfather is still at home, lying in the hospital bed we bought for him, with a nurse taking care of him everyday. And my grandmother, who once was so strong despite everything, is struggling with other ailments that we thought were nipped in the bud.
This morning my mom told me that my grandmother wasn't doing too well. My cousin was supposed to walk her down the aisle at my wedding; my mom said not to plan on it. If she comes (and we pray and hope to God that she will), she will most likely be in a wheelchair, because her back is just too weak.
Hearing all this today made me realize that I'm not 18 anymore. And while I'm at the stage in my life where my friends are getting married and having kids, I'm also at the stage where more people I know start to die. I can't even begin to count how many of parent's friends are sick to varying degrees with all different types of cancer. When asked if she would be coming to the wedding, one of my mom's really good friends said, "I don't know. January 14th is still so far away." So far away? It's in less than 3 weeks! To me, that's right around the corner! But to her, a woman who's been battling cancer for many years now, 3 weeks is a lifetime.
I know, you'll tell me that's just the way life is. People die and life goes on. But sometimes it just happens so damn quickly and you ask yourself, "where did all the time go?" We take for granted that our loved ones will always be there and by the time you realize that at any moment they could be gone, it's too late.
I'm getting married in less than 3 weeks and it should be an exciting time for me. It is exciting and I know I'm on the cusp of something new, something special, and something terrific, but today I just can't help but notice the shadow that hangs over this time. In the matter of an instant my happiness can turn bittersweet and there's really not much I can do about it. It's real, real now more than ever, and I'm not quite sure I'm prepared to deal with it.
I always thought myself to be lucky to grow up with both sets of grandparents. Not only were they alive during my childhood and most of my young adult life, but I saw them literally every single week until I was 18. Friday nights we spent in Queens with my mother's parents and either Saturday or Sunday was spent in Washington Heights (later they moved to the Upper West Side) with my father's parents. At times I thought it was a bit much, but then when I realized how close the bonds were with my grandparents, as opposed to my friend's bonds with theirs, and recognized how priceless it was.
I never experienced a close relative's death until the summer of 2001, when my father's father passed away. I can say that I was genuinely shocked, since it was my grandmother, his wife, who was sick all the time. She suffered from osteoporosis, lupus, and a bunch of other things that made her body brittle and ache all of the time. My grandfather wasn't 100% healthy himself, but was doing pretty well for a guy his age. Then one year his heart just decided to slowly fail him, but compared to his health beforehand, his deterioration happened rather quickly. And, as is quite common with older couples, my grandmother passed away 13 months later.
My mother's parents were pretty healthy, given their age, most of my life too. I remember when I was little, watching my grandmother prepare her insulin injections on Saturday mornings, whenever I would sleep over. To me, that was just a fact of life-- Savta had diabetes, but she handled it quite well and kept it in check. Then one day, Saba was told he had prostate cancer. The cancer was removed, he had some radiation treatments, and all was fine. Until he started forgetting his keys. Then forgetting where he parked the car. Then forgetting the days. And then forgetting our names. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in the mid-1990's (I don't remember when anymore, we've been living with it for so long it's just become another fact of life). That hit the family real hard. My father always called my grandfather an ox, because of how big and strong he was. Running into him was like running into a defensive end-- you just bounced right off and fell hard to the ground. So it was difficult seeing our grandfather struggle and watching his mind and body deteriorate before our very eyes. So slowly...
But my grandmother, the true matriarch of the family, always kept everything together. Despite my grandfather's illness, she made sure our family traditions continued like nothing ever changed. And I dare say that my family-- all of us, from parents, children, aunts, and uncles-- grew closer as the years went by and as we were called into duty to help take care of our Saba.
But time passes so quickly and the donimos eventually fall. And my grandfather is still at home, lying in the hospital bed we bought for him, with a nurse taking care of him everyday. And my grandmother, who once was so strong despite everything, is struggling with other ailments that we thought were nipped in the bud.
This morning my mom told me that my grandmother wasn't doing too well. My cousin was supposed to walk her down the aisle at my wedding; my mom said not to plan on it. If she comes (and we pray and hope to God that she will), she will most likely be in a wheelchair, because her back is just too weak.
Hearing all this today made me realize that I'm not 18 anymore. And while I'm at the stage in my life where my friends are getting married and having kids, I'm also at the stage where more people I know start to die. I can't even begin to count how many of parent's friends are sick to varying degrees with all different types of cancer. When asked if she would be coming to the wedding, one of my mom's really good friends said, "I don't know. January 14th is still so far away." So far away? It's in less than 3 weeks! To me, that's right around the corner! But to her, a woman who's been battling cancer for many years now, 3 weeks is a lifetime.
I know, you'll tell me that's just the way life is. People die and life goes on. But sometimes it just happens so damn quickly and you ask yourself, "where did all the time go?" We take for granted that our loved ones will always be there and by the time you realize that at any moment they could be gone, it's too late.
I'm getting married in less than 3 weeks and it should be an exciting time for me. It is exciting and I know I'm on the cusp of something new, something special, and something terrific, but today I just can't help but notice the shadow that hangs over this time. In the matter of an instant my happiness can turn bittersweet and there's really not much I can do about it. It's real, real now more than ever, and I'm not quite sure I'm prepared to deal with it.
posted by elanit | 5:32 PM
2 Comments:
Every moment which is represents countless moments aren't: there is now, and will always be the cloud of human mortality threatening to occlude the bright day's sun.
It's absolutely real: Solomon said that he had discovered a tremendous evil under the sun - that a person is alive one moment, and gone the next. And that same Solomon wore a ring which was inscribed to say gam zu ya'avor: "and this too shall pass" so that if he were either too exuberant or too melancholy, he would be reminded at the finitude of human existence.
God is the only truly infinity, and personally, I take comfort in my faith that God truly remembers all those who have gone before, along with all those yet to come.
I heard a story from Dr. Alishan at the U of U:
A Persian king inquired of a magus his future. The magus said "I have good news! First your grandfather will die, then your father will die, then you will die, and then your son will die!"
The king was very distressed by this, and challenged the sorceror to explain why this was good news. The magus' explanation was "Sire, bad news would have been that first your son would die, then you would die, then your father would die, and then your grandfather would die."
With that the king was satisfied, and he gave the magus a reward.
I hear you on this one. My grandfather is dying and it sucks. My mom literally flatlined in March when she was recouperating from a routine operation, and was ressuccitated. She now has a broken back but thank God, is living. This made me very aware of her mortality and was the impetus for me flying down at the last minute to see her last week.
I am bewildered when I stop and think that one day a man is living with a family, problems, and a lot of material possessions and the next day he's gone forever. No matter how often I think about this I'm dumbfounded. You'd think I'd get it by now.
Hate to be cheesy and quote Rent, especially after David quoted King Solomon, but ... "There's only us, there's only this, regret the past and life is yours to miss ... no other road, no other way, no day but today." All we have is this moment.
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