I still love them. In truth, I still covet them. Gyroscopes, the best spinning tops ever. Quick flick of the wrist and you could make it perch on tiny pinpoint or even balance on a piece of string. Though the whirl was powerful, the balance was so extremely delicate. The tiniest wobble would topple it from its fragile perch.
This week, we wobbled and fell. This week we found ourselves helped to rise once more to our feet. This week we found ourselves lofted on high, set to spin once again.
Over the years I’ve improved at the engage, parry, and retreat of social connection. Blunt tip, foil fencing matches which begin with a salute and end with a dignified bow. I can do this. Really I can. I know when to break eye contact, when to refill my wine glass or garnish my plate with more crudités. A deep breath and then once more into the fray, dear friends.
But I steal nervous glances at my watch. But I inch towards the door.
How is everyone else so happy and comfortable?
What if I am snubbed ignored, avoided?
What if we threw a party and nobody came?
Is it over yet?
Only me. Only me. Only me.
This week we were caught off –guard. We were shaken by the call. Ninety-two should not be a surprise. But somehow it is. Sadness, resignation, feelings with no words split us like an ever-widening chasm. We balanced on the edge.
There was no time to think. There was no time to fuss. There was no time to clean. All we could do was send out the word.
All we could do was our best.
And everyone came.
They did not come empty-handed.
Like Thanksgiving dinner in January, like a voluptuous Roman banquet, like an all-you can eat Sunday supper, the house was suddenly filled with food. Platter upon platter of bagels and lox, cakes and cookies, roast chickens, and deli sandwiches. Russian dressing and potato salad and pickles on the side.
My mother-in-law loved to eat. How could people have known about all her favorites? She yearned to be part of gatherings. And everyone was here for her, together in her honor.
Mostly they came alone, pushing past the red door, pushing past their discomfort. Jovial masks set aside, their faces were as open and as vulnerable as ours. When we relaxed, so did they, uncertainty and fear utterly useless and happily tossed aside.
Of course the world is full of rebounds and second chances. This is good. But the truth is there are times in life when you only get one chance to do the right thing. Thanks to everyone who did so for us. We’ll remember. We promise to do the same.
7 thoughts on “PUSHING PAST DISCOMFORT”
So very well said.
wow! I love to receive the Notes from the room in your head. Somehow they manage to make it down the stairs to where I sit on the right day. Thank you.
Thinking of you and sending love as you remember.
Thank you, D. Our heads always seem to be in the same places at the same times!
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You put this brilliantly! The social awkwardness we all feel sometimes, how completely blind-sided we can be by bad news, how important it is to simply show up and be there for people in their time of need, even when we are not sure we know the right words to say. And I’m so sorry about your mother-in-law.
Oh, Ann! Thank you so much!!
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When at a loss as to what to do, I cook. You don’t feed someone you don’t love (generally) and it’s one of the few tangible ways to really help. I love that they flocked to comfort. Wishing you peace.