Saturday, July 22, 2017
No, Vic, Really See
I remember once, Jim and I were sitting on the front porch, it was a few months before he died. He saw a cardinal in our big pine tree and said, "look, Vic, isn't he beautiful?" I said, "yeah," and I meant it but he wasn't satisfied with what he thought was my lukewarm response.
"No," he said, "I mean really look!"
So I really looked and suddenly the snow seemed purer and the sky seemed bluer, the pine seemed greener and the cardinal seemed more scarlet. I heard my brain go "click", like a mental camera taking a picture I would never forget.
I had another similar experience when Dallas was dying. I went over every Tuesday to visit and take him for a ride. "Take me past the river. Take me past the cornfields," he would say because it's the common, ordinary things that mean the most when you face the reality that you are dying.
That is the difference between someone who knows their time is short and someone who assumes they're going to live for years and years (though, of course, none of us know for sure).
I tried to always remember that lesson. If I caught myself taking my world for granted, I'd stop myself and say, "no, Vic, really see." Whether it was the beloved little cowlick on the top of my son's brown head or the way my black Pekingese, Sebastian, sprawled out with all four legs going different directions and a curly tail wagging furiously.
I remember feeling the silky softness of my mother's cheek when I kissed her and the delightful taste of a sensuous hot fudge sundae on a hot summer day. I sometimes tear up a little when I hear songs that bring back joyful times, even ones I didn't like then, when they screamed down from my teenage son's bedroom.
I am now at the point in my life where Jim was when he saw that cardinal. I don't know if I'll live long enough to see another cardinal in the snow but that picture is forever because Jim made me really see.
Things that irritated me once no longer do. Road rage. How can anyone have road rage? It's such a silly thing to stress about. Who cares what bathrooms people use? Could that possibly be so important in the scheme of things? I've never been very judgmental and I'm even less so now. So much that I see on the news seems so irrelevant when there are roses to be smelled, bird songs to be heard, mushrooms to be eaten, soft beds to be felt and family and friends to be loved.
Don't waste your time on nonsense. You don't know how much you have left.