Thoughts on human needs at all ages...and how we approach life each and every day.
First, I must credit a 96 year old who inspired this title. The first time I met her, while dining with my mother at her assisted living facility, a woman eagerly told me her story and how she ended up in Pittsburgh after a life of living in New York. Lamenting this last phase of life, she openly described wounds, physical pain, family slights and regrets to me, a total stranger. Details include a stint as a 12-year old waitress during the depression, and stories of having a “bossy daughter” and a beautiful Irish mom who hated housework and transferred those duties to her children so she could have time to perform music. Mostly, though, tales were of shattered bones and shattered dreams. She concluded that “life is not gentle.”
Her phrase keeps lingering in my mind. No, I suppose life is not gentle. But it can be sweet, loving, daring, full of adventure, loving, inspiring and beautiful along with being bittersweet and painful all at the same time.
On other nights, I witness such caring in this place, and marvel at the ways we cope --or don’t cope --with life at all of its stages.
One particular evening stands out for me. My mother and I sat down to a table with a woman who previously scared me. She always had this frightening scowl in her Jessica Tandy look-alike body. But, turns out, she was quite nice. Spoke with a Tennessee accent and told me I looked 18! When I told her she could practically triple that estimate, she would not believe it. It was rather sad she asked me how old I was three times in a 30 minute meal, but she was engaging and conversing and our social connections, on any level, at any age.....matter.
Attempting to answer her and find out a little about her life, I look over at another table where another resident was getting sick, right in the middle of things. Her friends calmly called the staff, and while they attended to her, continued eating. All must become so relative, I thought. Your perspective shifts, you realize what you can and can’t control, respect everyone’s roles and situation, don’t over react and try to make the best of it. I found myself wondering how this could translate to everyday life—at all ages, and not just in the final stages of our lives –when we all have stories and issues that span an emotional “stew” that includes hope, compassion and sadness all in one.
Minutes later, a gentleman who is always telling everyone he was a cop for almost three decades, whispers to me as he guides his walker out of the dining room, “your mother is a lovely lady. I have wanted to go out with her but she would have none of it. She’s a tough lady”. Is he kidding? Is he just making conversation? Who knows; I smile and say, yes she is tough, meaning that as an ultimate compliment. Meantime, my mother nods at another table and gives me that “knowing look”. Of course her nonverbal is instantly understood. She told me as we were getting on the elevator that a couple sit together every night, yet never say one word to each other. Totally accurate…and another life lesson? Human companionship takes many forms indeed, and sharing silence has a poignant quality to it.
The meal ended as we approached the elevator when a gentleman sitting in a common area began belting out a song, which we were later told was a Frank Sinatra song. He had a beautiful voice and just wanted to share a song about smiling with all of us. His spontaneous gesture left at least four people smiling, and that’s a good thing.
Mind you, every dinner I’ve had with my mother has not had this many levels of meaning for me, but this night will stick out in my mind. A residence for those who are battling some ailments, physical and emotional is symbolic of any gathering we have, at any age. It’s just that for these folks, their challenges and reactions to them are no longer guided by unwritten rules or pretense; they are laid bare in all their honesty and beauty. We are all seeking to reach out, whether by silence or by conversation or song or friendship, and the day we quit reaching is the day we only know that life is harsh. Every time we reach and help one another, life can indeed be gentle.