TANGIBLE REMNANTS OF LIFE

My friend collected all of these shells at the beach on Sanibel Island in December of 2011. And it appears she had a reason in mind for how she wanted to artistically display these dead creatures. However, she never did tell me. If anything, she may have placed them with care, and they were purposely arranged, or maybe done in a random act? I really can’t recall. And yes, in a way, it matters because these shells helped me through some of the most difficult events that I could have never imagined.

In the three years since we spent this week at the beach together, both of us have had our share of tragedy.  Mostly random. Funny how life works that way. It is inconvenient to say the least, unbelievable to sound almost cliché when describing sickness and death. Little did I know that I would witness the loss of eight people that I loved, including my brother, mother and father within one year. And I never dreamed that the one who collected these shells would go through radical breast and lymph surgery due to an aggressive cancer that nearly took her life.  

These shells in the photograph are beautiful, but dead. How can this be? The deaths I have experienced were anything but beautiful.  In the months and years that I have suffered great loss, I have often asked myself where to find the beauty in the midst of my world. Quite frankly, it has been hard to see, and I have tried to imagine it

Looking more closely at the photograph, I could not help but notice the red, purple, brown, pink, white and other hues of colorful shells. Vibrant, even in death. Really? Death is certainly not vibrant, it is depressing and painful, in my view.

Some of the shells are smooth, some are rough. Death came like that for my loved ones. For some it was sudden, for others it stalled for months and it was a brutal road.

One day, just like my friend took the picture of the shells, I took inventory of the memories of my loved ones.  Was there a big difference between the shells and my loved ones? They both died. I think the hardest thing to accept about death of a loved one is the absence of a physical “shell”. II only have my memories to rely on, the inner beauty of my loved ones and my inner abilities to conjure up pictures in my mind and heart of what they looked like, and who they were.

Life is ironic. I have always loved shells for what they looked like on the outside, never for the creature that was alive within. I never really bothered to know or enjoy the inner being of most of these creatures. And it is that inner being that caused such beauty to last.

Revisiting the photograph one last time caused me to look at things about death in a whole new perspective. That is the beautiful thing about grief. I get through it by seeing little glimpses of life, in the obscure, and this thing about dead seashells is definitely obscure. In doing so, I am reminded to make the intangible remnants of my loved ones’ lives matter. Intently, I place memories in my heart and mind.  I recall my mother’s words saying “honey, you always do a great job…”, my father taking the toothpick out of his mouth, tilting his head my way, waiting for a kiss on the cheek when I greet him, my brother reminding me to defrag my computer, and my friend conversing with me over the phone telling me about each of her four young children. I capture remnants of their characters, their kindnesses, their accomplishments, and dreams, often. Those things are what I picture deep inside. They are my shells, I just have to make the time to walk along the serene water’s edge and embrace them.

Living A New Path With My Father

One day I woke up and life changed forever. I became my father's caregiver. I could see it coming, I just did not see the path as it became so quickly.

When I decided to stay home with my father, to care for him, I was met with mixed feelings from friends, family and relatives.

In America, we are so blessed to have beautiful facilities such as assisted living and posh nursing homes to care for our aging parents. And many go there. They are quite pricey and often times when our parents need more care, Medicare does not cover it. So many families are left with little options but to care for their loved ones at home.

This is a growing crisis in America as the a significant portion of the population is elderly.

The choice to stay home and care for my father was not one I lingered over, as I did not have much of a choice. My mother died suddenly and unexpectedly and I instantaneously became my father's caregiver.

But what I have learned in the journey over the last few months is that for me, it is the right thing to do.

So many people from other countries consider their elderly a part of their family to care for until they die. The community, the village, and the neighbors all join in to make this happen. Yet in America, it is still a foreign concept. Why is this?

It is not easy to navigate a new path in caring for parents in America, albeit there are many choices...I am learning.

However, the journey can be difficult but beautiful. And for me it is just the beginning of a new day.

I did meet an older gentleman on an electric wheelchair while at the beach with my father. He told me that God would bless me for caring for my father. And he said that my dad was lucky to have me. He told me of how he went to great lengths to care for his wife for years until she passed.

Part of this new path for me is keeping the value of the human life at the forefront, even in a world where it sometimes is diminished for convenience and money. But in the end, it is the intangibles of life that make it worthwhile, and beautiful. And Jesus leads the way! Jesus is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End. He creates life, He gives life and He takes life in His time.

When Life Lands Us in Unusual Places

Moth on a parking lot in MD

I just returned from a trip to the beach to visit a high school friend. She (and her mother)  has been caring for her father full time since his stroke several years ago.

Her father can't speak very well and his face is somewhat distorted. He can't stand, walk, toilet or feed himself. He goes from the wheelchair to the bed. But what is amazing is the life he leads in between.

My friend ventures out all of the time with both elderly parents in tow. They recently went to the airshow on the boardwalk. My friend's father pointed to the planes and with a smile, he grunted the number of craft he saw flying in the sky. He used to be in the National Guard as a young man.

As we walked through doorways, he tipped his hat to strangers who opened the door for the wheelchair.

My friend's father grinned while watching a young child coo for her mother. And he spelled out the fact that he was ready to watch "F O O T B A L L" inside.

When we drove by the water on the way home, he shook his head in remembrance of the flounder fishing excursion. And he smiled when I thanked him for the boat rides as a teen.

It is hard to see my friend struggle to daily care for her incapacitated father. It is hard for me to see his wife have to feed him.

 But what is even more difficult to comprehend is the incredible well of love and hope that keeps on flowing from this family.

Life's circumstances landed them in a precarious place, one that is incredibly hard at times. One that is extremely unusual and yet they keep on giving, living and growing as a beautiful family.

Blessed Soul, NJ 12'