January 3, 2011
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Kind Synchronicity
This was the first Christmas without my parents. The past few years I think I was in a self-protective distancing pattern because both of them had so much to do with the joy and meaning I experienced at this time of year. I wouldn’t have been able to lose them as a “short.sharp shock:.” At least my last contacts with them were good and I’m very, very thankful for that.
The first of these entries is going to talk about my mom.
When she was trying to set up a new life for us in Lethbridge Mom used to write stories and poems for the Christmas edition of the local paper. She attracted something of a following. World famous in Southern Alberta, I guess. One of her first publications was an essay called “New Boots” all about how I and my sister Margaret conspired to get her better, and warmer, footwear. Somewhere in the account, she mentions how I told her that she was “wandering around Loblaw’s like a deranged yak.” What a rotten kid I was.
This year, the first one when I knew it really was impossible to call her up and that I really wouldn’t be getting a card with her beautifully penned messages, my brother John phoned me and we spent a good long time talking about how great Mom’s shortbread cookies were. Won’t be having any of those anytime soon but at least I got to have some when I was younger.
This years Christmas was small, and quiet. There was a definite sense of loss but something seemed to hold off the worst of it…an odd but comforting “gone but not gone” feeling. Maybe it was just my incredible capacity for denial at work. (If I was was a character in a Marvel comic book my super power would be denial).
Then a few days ago, a greatly appreciated late Christmas gift. I’m stepping out of Shoppers Drug Mart, picking up the latest batch of medications that let me be be 53 but perform at the age of 33, when I see a woman who is at least 83. She had some mobility challenges but she seemed to be pretty proud of the fact that she could manage the walk to the store on her own.
Unfortunately she was having some trouble getting into the place. Not really anyone’s fault, this particular Shoppers is under renovation and the signage is hard to see. The woman was trying to enter through the exit and the automatoc doors kept closing on her. It wasn’t very hard for me to offer my arm and lead her over to the actual entrance and press the button that opened the correct doors for her. It also felt really wonderful when she gave my arm a squeeze and thanked me.
To paraphrase H.G. Wells — I don’t know if these small events were by “chance or design” but I do know that at that moment it felt very good to do something helpful for a for a nice elderly lady.
