Savory Days
Carl & Leilani with Carl’s son, Conrad circa 1969, Balboa Fun Zone
Having your parents living in your home is a constant reminder that this beautiful life isn’t going to last forever. As a clergy person, I rush to the bedside of dying people. Along with their families, I pray them into the next journey. Funerals and care for the grieving are a profound part of ministry. However, most days I ignore death. Plowing through the to-do list is what grabs my attention. The presence of my parents, ages 86 and 79, remind me to savor each day.
To savor the taste of a well roasted chicken.
To watch a determined woodpecker grip the suet feeder with his feet and lean into the feast.
To inhale the scent of a freshly showered teenager as they walk by me barefoot on a frigid morning.
To nuzzle the softness of my husband’s beard.
To understand the pain behind an angry email.
To appreciate the sound of a smoothie in the blender during zoom Morning Prayer.
To ache in my shoulders after lifting weights.
To pop down to the cottage level and encourage our chiweenie to cuddle with Papa.
To laugh when we discover all our drinking glasses stacked up and dirty in our son’s bedroom.
To finish the rest of my mom’s carrot raisin salad.
To be sad that life has been so interrupted by COVID-19, yet to be grateful for only inconvenience when so many know devastation.
There is so much to notice. So much life. So much beauty. So much feeling.
My parents have changed. Remembering what was keeps me from noticing what is. These two were the life of a lot of parties. Carl telling a story set on or near a military base overseas where the denouement is always an extraordinary meal. Leilani dancing with whoever will dance, her fluid hips revealing decades of cumbia skill.
And now Carl spends his days shuttling between a recliner, the kitchen table, and the bathroom. His movements limited to where the walker will go. Leilani’s dance moves are confined to the rhythm of the day set by meal preparation, pill doling, and Wheel of Fortune. Her sight limited by macular degeneration. They regularly drove from Orange County, California to La Paz, Mexico in 2 days. They camped in scenic spots going cross country. The triumph of today is the absence of indigestion, getting the remote control to work, and walking to the mailbox.
They are adapting to this new home well, although it is obvious that my mom misses her friends in Arizona. The nearness of grandchildren might even the score. How to encourage the kids to hang out with their grandparents without pushing them into a place of resentment for this new set up?
We savor the memories of the generation that has already gone. Oma with her beautiful up-do, perfect posture, and Dutch accent. “Vell, let’s sit down and have a little drinkie.” Amaw with her brown polyester culottes and impish grins handing me a half of cantaloupe crowned with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Bops and the scent of his cherry pipe tobacco as he bounced with silent laughter in his chair reading his book. Aunt Ila with her stylish jewelry, knowing looks, and eagerness to join forces for anything creative. My kids still have all their grandparents- thanks be to God. Within a 35 mile range are four grandparents and one great aunt who adore them. These are days to savor.
Savor the sharing of a good meal and the opportunities to join forces on decorating a cake, finishing a crossword puzzle, trying a crochet pattern, and sketching out the vegetable garden.
Save the grief for when they are gone. Enjoy them fully today.
(If you or someone you care about is considering the care of aging parents and/or a transition to three-generational living space, come back next week for a three part series called “Embracing the Future Together” — a story of moving my parents cross country and into our home, and considerations that may help in a similar transition. The series will include: our story, the considerations I offer to you, and resources.)
