A friend's Dad passed away last week. He was 98 years old. When I visited Jim about a week or so before that, I was in the company of an older gentleman with a twinkle in now cloudy blue eyes. That foggy twinkle revealed to me a rascal, as Tiff says. He was a young widower, a flirt with appreciation for the ladies, literature, the arts, finance, hard work. Now feeble, stooped, slow but grasping at the wit, the humor he once knew. Eyes faded, hearing challenged, he gracefully slipped into life everlasting. My daughter was the last living individual he saw, who's arms he felt as he met his wife who had been waiting for him for years.
At the funeral parlor, on a Friday evening, I viewed a slide show. There before me, I saw a young handsome man, a beautiful bride, attractive children in various stages of growth, maturity. I saw homes, land, celebrations, joy, life in its fullest prime. Exactly when did he age? Where is the boundary between vitality from one day to fragility on the next?
At the cemetery, after a service on the following morning, my mind swirled with questions and thoughts that I set aside as we continued through the funeral (which my Grandmother always said is for the living...the deceased, by then, was doing just fine) I had hustled the trio into their suits, ties, and a pretty dress. The four of us stood, listened, fidgeted, embraced other mourners, prayed.
And so, he rests, celebrates his life, relaxes in the joy of everlasting life. I can resume my questions and thoughts...
I see myself in the mirror. I see myself everyday. Often, many, many times in a day (I'm like that, you know). When did I acquire "age"? Where is the defining line between the child that I saw every day and the woman (with three grandchildren) that I see every day? Exactly when did that first grey hair appear on you, on your Mom? Just when did that hairline recede on your Dad? Do my parents see the young GI returning from WWII and the young NYU student with perfect skin, a twenty inch waist and long brunette hair today at 86 and 84 years old? Where is the boundary between the two year old who called me "Warrie" and the woman who calls her older sister (me) with stories of my nephew and his fraternity brothers and my niece's latest hair craze? Where is the baby, that I saw every day, changed every day, who now phones me with a laundry list of, "Mom, when do we want to schedule our Spring book event?" Did I blink to long? Where is the little girl with whom I would spend countless hours in ballet studios, nearly every day of her childhood, who now commands my new skin care, anti-aging regime?
Where is the definition between the free spirit with hair down to her a-a-a to the grandmother, who receives calls and directives from grandchildren who squeal with delight when Meme (may-may) arrives? When did the participants at the tea table change from afternoon tea with Nana, to a tea party with Tess? I swear, she was there a minute ago. I swear, I was Tess a minute ago. Where? When?
I watched myself in the mirror before dates, getting my hair and make-up "just right" while battling hic-cups. I see that same face...or so I think. I battle those same hic-cups (not as frequently) before "an occasion of state" or at least I think they are the same!
We see ourselves every day. We see each other (family, friends) every day. Exactly how, when did we evolve into the older, busier versions of the blissful children that we were? Was there a Disney time-lapse episode going on that I missed? That you missed?
When did the stroller turn into a tricycle, to a bicycle, to a racing bicycle, to a Harley or a Convertible? When did I turn from the "Mistress of the Kitchen" to a collaborator and second in command with our Four Generation Cookbook as my son takes lead? When did I evolve into the "Meme" from the driver for a prima ballerina and solver of assorted social, beauty, domestic issues and a confidant?
If I hadn't a wrinkle, exactly what is the anniversary of the first one? If I had low lights, highlights, exactly when did it become mandatory to "touch up" roots? How did pound by pound we gain or lose weight? What day do some move from thin to fat? Exactly where does weight go when we go from heavy to slight? I have been known to lament about gaining "The Ohio Ten". I lost it (in Reunion Book), but where did it go?
We see US and each other every day. We laugh, cry, play, pray together everyday. Exactly when, how before our eyes slipped in between blinks, did we become what we are right now, tomorrow, next year?
I want to find that boundary, that definitive line that marks change. Steve always maintained that I do not take to change very well. Actually, I don't take to change AT ALL. Are our lives a slide show to ignite wonder, to retrace our steps from there to here?
Two things that we can bear in mind, inspired from two books that I read when I was younger:
1. If you realize that there is no perfect Utopia, accept it, "work with it". Then you are always bound to have A FAIRLY GOOD TIME.
2. SPEND ALL OF YOUR KISSES here and now...you can't take them with you, when you go!
As Jim's son said, "We're not coming back, are we?"
