My sister in law Barb worked with Gretchen who
passed away several years ago and I knew Gretchen through her. She was a
world traveler, teacher , lived in Long Beach , avid reader, life long
learner, attended literary women with us. Through Gretchen I met her two
daughters Paula (lives in Texas) and Maria (lives in Long Beach ). Both
Paula and Maria have two grown children each. I’ve watched them grow up
on Facebook and before that knew of them through Gretchen’s adoration
of them. Maria, the older daughter was diagnosed with brain cancer more
than a decade ago and had gone through hard treatments and several
remissions. She traveled to Italy last summer with her teen daughter
then the cancer returned with a vengeance. Paula had come often to be
with her sister and writes on Facebook the updates for friends. I send
the updates to Barb as she is not on fb. I’m sending this to you all
because we’ve all lost loved ones and have been on this path in some way
that Paula is walking with her sister. What she says here is important
and I know it soothed me in some ways as I still feel guilt about not doing
more for my loved ones now gone. I think what she says about our
presence being enough and important is good to hear. I wanted to share
this with all of you. Love barb
"I’m back at the airport. This visit was hard. Not solely because of
Maria’s obvious progression, but also because I felt the need to do/say
something profound or impactful, knowing this is likely the last time
I’ll see her on this earth. When I wasn’t tending to her physical needs,
we spent each day sitting mostly in silence, watching TV. It took a hot
minute to realize I’m not “doing nothing.”
After
some research (because that’s what I can control), I learned by sitting
with her, even in silence, I’m regulating her nervous system. This is
because I’m familiar and grounding to her, she knows I’ll advocate for
her and I don’t need anything from her, my humor gives her a reprieve
from her reality and a moment of normalcy, and I’m a safe, stabilizing
comfort. Essentially, my presence is calming.
It’s
ironic, because I just did a leadership presentation on the simple act
of being present, and here I am questioning if my presence is enough. I
actually referenced my sister as one of my real-world examples, telling
an audience of Southwest leaders that in the last moments of life, when
everything else is stripped away, the only meaningful currency we have
left is our presence.
Yet
I’ve still found myself asking questions like, “What if I haven’t shown
her how much I love her?” “What if she doesn’t know how much she means
to me, because I didn’t articulate it well enough or I didn’t show her
by my actions?” “What if I regret not doing more?” I’ve learned what
people regret most later is unintentionally overstimulating, pushing
conversations, forcing meaning, or not letting the moment be quiet.
Stillness is not emptiness here. It is respect.
So
that’s how we spent the week as I slowly (and possibly begrudgingly)
accepted the notion that my presence was the most complete form of love
in that moment.
