By Guest blogger Susan Cain (Self-proclaimed "Sometimes weary but recently enlightened life course traveler.")
Tired from a turn-around trip that began with a 6:15 am
flight out of Portland,
I waited at San Jose Terminal B, gate 23 for my return flight on Southwest.
Together with my business partner, Patrick, we had spent much of the past week
preparing for the new business meeting that took us to San Jose. While the meeting went well, we
wouldn’t know if we won this account for probably three or four weeks. As I sat
in the terminal, I thought about business, the slow economic recovery, money
and retirement. What could I have done
differently to avoid such personal implications of the recent crash? When would
conditions truly improve? Was I getting too old for this work? Looking up, an
older man, somewhat disheveled caught my eye as he walked unevenly and
tentatively toward the desk. With shaky hands he withdrew his ticket from his shirt
pocket handing it to the gate agent, “Am I in the right place?” She responded
automatically, “Yes” and offered nothing else. He looked around and walked
towards the empty chair next to me. Almost automatically I thought, “Please
don’t sit here—I’m exhausted and can’t make conversation,” but the thought
passed just as quickly. I knew I wanted to help him feel more comfortable.
We’ve all been on that trip—whether it’s our first flight, we’ve experienced a
number of cancelled flights, or we are waiting in an international airport with
signs and voices that are unfamiliar.
I began, “Hi, are you flying home to Portland or visiting someone?”
“I’m going to visit my son. I haven’t flown in a very long
time and I feel so unsure of myself.”
“It’s fine. Together we can listen for the boarding call and
then I can show you where to line up. When you get on the plane, you won’t have
an assigned seat so sit in any open seat.
Has it been a long time since you’ve seen your son?”
Tears filled his eyes as he replied, “No, he and his
brothers and sisters have visited me often recently. Their mom died three
months ago after being on life support for too long. It’s an awfully hard decision to know when to
say “it’s time’ after more than 60 years of a life together. I just couldn’t
let go and I think I made her suffer too long.”
Filled with his pain, I offered what seemed like empty
platitudes, “There’s no way to know when the time is right and no one can guide
that decision. It’s something you worked though, and when you were ready and
you felt she was ready, you let her go.
There’s no timeline for letting go of the person you’ve loved so
dearly.”
His smile of appreciation felt undeserved.
“I’m John.”
“Hi John. I’m Susan. It’s so nice to meet such a brave man.”
With a weak chuckle he said, “I’m not brave. In fact, I know
this will sound bad but I’m not sure I will choose to stay around much longer.
That must sound awful to you, but each day when I begin to wake and reach over
to the empty place on the bed, I can barely breathe. I lay in bed sometimes
till afternoon. Just waiting for the pain to leave, for her to talk to me, for
something…I don’t even know what. I’m so empty inside.”
Frozen in grief I couldn’t find words, and I knew that
nothing I said could answer his need.
Still the energy connection gripped me. His heaviness was now mine as
well.
Slowly and painfully I offered, “I don’t judge you. I have
told my children that I would hoard pills or find some sort of poison so that
when I’m done, I’m done. My father died recently—he was 95 and he very much
wanted to die for the last two years of his life. It hurt me terribly to watch
him. He even asked me to help him die and I could do nothing. He thought he wanted to die when he was about
85 and my mother died. The first year was the worst. After that he began going back to church,
getting out a little more, and he found he had more life to live. Meaning and
purpose may shift for you too.”
“I don’t know. I can’t see beyond today. I don’t really want
to visit my son although I love him. It takes so much energy and I’m exhausted.
I’m hoping that if I force myself, I might find some relief. Traveling is hard on me. I’m uncomfortable
asking for help or directions. I feel like people look at me like I’m just a
helpless old man. I’m getting forgetful—happens when you are old.”
“John, I’m forgetful and I’m 63. I don’t know when this
“forgetfulness” started for you but it started for me in my 20’s when I had
four children! It’s not exclusive to
being older. It comes about because we accumulate years and years of to do
lists, of birthdays, of 85 years worth of schedules and memories we want to
hold onto. People think so many things
are old age related when in fact aging begins the day we’re born.”
He laughed and his hand grabbed my hand and he simply said
“Thank you.”
The gate agent called for “A” boarding—my group. I asked
John to move closer to the lines and told him that when they called for B
boarding he would line up in the first column pointing to where he should
stand. Noticing a seat near the line I suggested he sit until it was time to
line up. As we walked together, I noticed a young woman making her way toward
the seat. Touching her arm I asked if she’d mind if John sat. She nodded to him
and said, “Of course not.”
John looked at her slyly and said, “Or I could sit and you
could sit on my lap.” Pleased with
himself he lit up and we all laughed.
I was hopeful as I boarded the plane that his momentary joy
might be a brief peek into a life of renewed purpose. He is such a beautiful
soul and to have him leave this world early would be a loss for all those whose
life he touched, including me. Ten minutes with John and my life is forever
changed.
1 comment:
Mindfulness in action. Transforming a dreary and scary time for both of you into a touch of grace. Each of us, especially our elders need to tell our stories, to share and be heard. It is a beautiful story of the power of being present... thank you.
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