THE LESSON OF LIFE
In July 2014, as my mom lay in the hospital, with expressive aphasia and shifts in mental acumen, as metastasized cancer ravaged her brain, she would have precious sporadic moments of utter lucidity. These would come randomly, typically as she would be falling asleep late at night: suddenly, she would be talking, clearly, freely, easily expressing and sharing her thoughts in short phrases. Her most poignant shared thoughts were about learning the lesson of her life. In essence, she said she understood that life is good as it is, that she realized one should appreciate the life one has, not be critical, not be unhappy about it, not be unsettled. The most painful comment mom made was that she learned it too late â that she knew the truth, and she did not want to die. Of course, at that time, I rushed to assure her she was not dying, that the intensive treatments, medications and therapies would work, that sheâd walk out of there in time to celebrate my birthday. I did not probe or question her comments. Mom passed away August 9th. The next four months were absorbed with dadâs care (who is a cancer survivor, with chronic health issues, which are the price for staying alive), as he was in the hospital, rehab, back at the hospital, my house, and again back at the hospital; with the divorce mediation (no matter how civil one tries to be, the ugliness of the divorce does rear its ugly head); with my new job (yes⌠apparently, death and divorce were not enough for me to deal with, so I accepted a new job offerâŚ. In sales!). Deep down inside, I knew this was an evasive tactic: I did not want to deal with the pain, the loss, the tectonic shifts I was going through. I wanted to bury myself in a hive of activities, tasks, job travel, ANYTHING but face my real life. And then the holidays came. Thanksgiving was so awkward, so painful, so ugly. Hanukkah was a non-event, down flat: I couldnât even bother with the Menorah. New Year, typically the happiest, most memorable, most enjoyable holiday, was non-existent. I had nowhere to hide, I could come up with no more excuses, events, errands nor tricks to avoid the inevitable â facing my painful reality. My dad was at a nursing home. My kids had plans. My mom passed. My immediate family, as I have known it to be, grow, evolve, was no longer existent. I have no siblings â my brother passed in 1993, No aunts nor uncles - my parentsâ siblings passed in their childhood or before I knew them, No cousins â the only one I found through the internet 5 years ago lives in Moscow The extended family I used to have here was from the exâs side. I found myself completely and utterly alone. On New Yearâs Eve. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise â a pivotal point. I spent NYE talking to my mom, looking at her photographs, throwing back vodka shots as I raised toasts to her, to what was, to what would be. I watched âItâs a Wonderful Lifeâ for the first time in 37 years since I came to America. I cried, I talked to her more, I drank more, I felt her presence near me. I revisited the time in the hospital, replayed the innermost, personal things she shared with me intermittently; especially the lesson of her life. I had the most open, poignant, honest conversation with my mom that night than Iâve had in the last few years when she was alive. I donât recall what time I crawled into my bedâŚ. I woke up on New Yearâs Day with a sense of peace, calmness, ability to look at my reality with a bit more strength. I set a slogan for myself for the new year: REVIVE, RENEW, REBUILD, REDISCOVER. About 10 days earlier, I saw âWildâ with Reese Witherspoon â a journey of a woman who lost her mother. The deeper recognition of my momâs lesson, the morals of the two movies, all had an impact on me. I was more aware of the âmessagesâ each of these important sources carried: Momâs â appreciate your life, as it is⌠âLifeâ â our existence does matter⌠âWildâ â learn to forgive yourself⌠While these revelations were helpful and important to me, I knew these were not MY lessons. Yes, I began to view my personal life, with all its losses & turmoil, in a more positive light. I knew that I, being alive, living, do make a difference in the lives of my children, my father, my friends. I intentionally made an effort to be less critical of and less impatient with myself, my circumstances, of those around me. But still, something was nagging, something was missing. Someone recommended to me a book by Louise Hay, You Can Heal Your Life. The book was enlightening, eye-opening, thought provoking. But I was immediately struck by the sentence of ââŚWe have chosen to come here to learn a particular lesson that will advance us upon our spiritual, evolutionary pathwayâŚâ The nagging feeling Iâve had now had gotten deeper. I wanted to know what are MY LIFEâS LESSONS. I did not want to be on my death bed, knowing there is no more time, no turning back, and only then to understand what I had to learn. With the help of my therapist, Dr. Louise Okin, a wise, patient, intuitive, perceptive individual, who has known me on and off for over 10 years, I was able to answer some profound questions to myself, and reach some illuminating conclusions of what my lessons are. I can say with confidence that here and now, after 49 years of life, 37 years in America, 23 years of marriage, a year of separation, 1 month of divorce, 2 children, loss of a parent and other singular developments in my personal life, my current lesson is that I MATTER MY NEEDS AND OPINIONS MATTER MY VOICE AND DECISIONS MATTER I will not walk on egg-shells any longer; I will not keep quiet or be ambivalent, apathetic or afraid to upset the apple cart. I am NOT what happened to me â I am what I CHOOSE to be.
