On Turning 45

Sunday, June 5, 2011, was a beautiful day in our microcosm.  Blue skies, 70 degrees, no wind, smells of summer, and sounds of my sons and husband having an afternoon water fight in our backyard.  I was born on a Sunday in 1966.  For some reason when my birthday falls on the actual day of the week that my mother delivered me, it feels more... birth-day-like.

Still midlifing, I pinballed in my 45th year, bouncing off of spring-loaded emotions and experiences.  Some good, some bad, but all intense.  I don't know who's working the flippers, but I remain in play.  I'm ready for a break.  Let me go, move on, another ball is ready to feel the thrill of the plunger.  Launch it while I catch my breath, oh great pinball wizard.

There are too many thoughts and personal stories to share from the past 12 months, but a few words are boldfaced in my mind's memory cyclone. They define areas of growth and struggle.

RELATIONSHIPS continue to fascinate and challenge me.  Expectations can leave me feeling both hurt, when mine are higher for the relationship, and annoyed, when I can't meet someone else's.  I read somewhere that the average person can realistically maintain 150 relationships.  That sounds about right.  I wish I could maintain more, because I enjoy connecting with and knowing people.  Maybe I'm just nosy...

INTIMACY in new or rekindled relationships has been an issue.  I'm doing it wrong.  I either assume a level of familiarity that is inappropriate or out of someone's comfort zone, Hey, friend from 1975 who's bed I once wet on a sleepover!  Great to see you on Facebook!  Want to go on vacation together with our families?  Surely we've grown in the exact same direction and have identical memories of our time together 35 years ago! Or I appear aloof because I'm trying to throttle my enthusiasm.  Maybe it's called social anxiety...

NOSTALGIA is my crack.  I can't get enough. I torment myself by watching old television shows, sifting through boxes of photos, reading journals from my youth, reminiscing with my husband and friends in an attempt to pinpoint details from that time when.  Sometimes the reliving feels cathartic and other times it hurts.  Maybe it's time to be more present in this moment...

PEOPLE I love and have loved grow in importance to me every year.  I wish time wasn't linear so I could experience multiple people during a variety of calendar years... and all at once.  Sounds like having your cake and eating it too.  Maybe it's nostalgia again...

RELIGION shouldn't dictate our friendships, but I've lost friends due to belief systems.  The more I experience, read, observe, pray, meditate, the simpler my views become.  I believe God is in the beautiful, often messy, details of life.  I don't believe He's in the details of dogma.  Maybe they weren't really friends...

HEALTH in the fullest sense of the word as it applies literally to my mind, body and spirit, as well as my relationships, garden, finances, etc., is something I hope to never take for granted.  Maybe great blessings come from the most heartbreaking experiences...

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My mother has taken to making cards with old photographs... which fuels nostalgia.  My birthday card this year from my parents had a picture of Dad holding me when I was a baby.

 The inside of the card included one of Mom's clever poems...

I had a wonderful birthday and even though I feel like I'm still in that stupid pinball machine, I am in play.  Maybe I'll beat my high score before I turn 46.

Following Her Lead

"I don't have much time.  I'm dying."

Her eyes were focused on mine, willing me to accept along with her the words she spoke.

I'd quasi-prepared in my mind to talk about death prior to my trip, but I felt numb—almost tingly.  She was dying.  In the moment, devastation about Em's impending departure from the only world I know was replaced by stress about what I should or shouldn't say.

"Is there anything I can do for you?  On your behalf?  Help you do?"

"There's not enough time," she said softly.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

"Do you want me to call your pastor?  Is your spiritual house in order?"  Mine wasn't.

"No.  I'm okay."  She was so calm.

We continued to sit in silence.  She looked at me for a long time before turning her head to stare straight ahead.  Everything was slow, her movements, her speech.

On her bed that Thursday afternoon, my friend Wendy (nicknamed Em) released the team reins and decided to let her carriage coast to a stop.  She looked at me again and said, "This sucks."

She was brave.  I didn't feel that she was scared about where she was going, but at 43 and the mother of a young boy who's battling cancer himself, she didn't want to leave where she was.

We had that conversation on Thursday, March 31, 2011.

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Throughout our friendship, which began in late 1985 [or early 1986], we processed many life situations together.  Once we got to the root of our feelings, often the next step was... So, now what do I say to [friend, boyfriend, roommate, teacher, boss, parent, spouse, child].  We strategized the big communications.

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I remained in Phoenix for three more days and was able to spend meaningful time with Em.  At the end of my visit one day—not the last, because I intended to return the next morning—I approached her and let her know I was getting ready to leave.  I didn't want to say "goodbye".  I told her I would be back the next day, we hugged and kissed, but the reality was no one really knew when her time might be, so the ache was palpable when a loved one left her.

In her calm, soft voice, my sweet friend said, "See you later."

Perfect.

I returned the following morning.  She was tired and she hurt, which were feelings she'd experienced every day since early January when she was told her ovarian cancer had returned.  The fatigue and pain were like a boulder rolling down hill.  Momentum roared her last few weeks.

That beautiful spring day, April 3, 2011, was the last time I would see Em.  We both knew it.  I had to return to my life in Utah.  She scolded me for leaving that life to visit her, but stopped immediately when I asked her what she would do if I was the one who was sick.

Heavy moments were too much for Em.  They're exhausting as a well person.  She didn't want or need intense goodbyes with tissues and tears.

We hugged, kissed and exchanged I love yous. 

"I'll see you later," I said.

She replied with one more, "I love you."

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Wendy died on April 18, 2011, surrounded by her mother, two brothers, sister and sister-in-law.  Amazing, compassionate, strong people.

Mom "Likes" Facebook

There are already too many jokes about our parents—the senior set in general—adapting to social media.  Just when some older people are comfortable consistently using email, we say, "Never mind. Start a blog. Tweet. Get on Facebook. It's fun!"

My mother took the Facebook plunge. Dad's holding strong. I believe hell really will freeze over before he signs up for an account.

I talked her into it. Poor thing. I wore her down during a visit last November. "It's SO easy. We'll be able to share pictures. You can keep track of Joe [my brother] and you'll find treasures in rekindled relationships from the past."

Mom bought the idea as I lied to myself as much as her. Facebook is a time sucking, angst causing, self-esteem crushing, bizarre life distraction. [Just me?] It's like the bowl of M&M's and Hot Tamales on my kitchen counter—for guests, of course. I should have a piece of fruit or handful of almonds for a snack, but there sits that damn bowl of temptation. At the end of some days, I've grabbed too many of the wrong things and I feel oily. Too much candy, and too many clicks of the refresh/reload button on Facebook. Loser.

So, Mom and I set up her Facebook account, selected a cute photo of her and started looking for all of her old boyfriends and that one girl who was mean to her in high school. I alerted my brother immediately.

Joe has yet to reply. It's been five months.

I told Mom that it's important to make an occasional appearance on Facebook. Lurkers are boring and selfish. [Harsh words from someone who lurks.] I encouraged her to, at a minimum, comment on friends' photos. So she tried. I posted a picture of my sons and Mom accidentally updated her status.

Mom has made additional attempts on Facebook over the past few months. I've seen her wish people a happy birthday and she enjoys the "Like" button. But she still gets confused. While trying to comment on something my cousin wrote, she again updated her own status.

I let my cousin know.

Mom's traveling to Utah to visit us in a few weeks. I told her we would spend a little time practicing our Facebook skills. Writing status updates, commenting, liking, removing comments, un-liking and polishing our personal brands in case we've screwed up our privacy settings...again.

In the meantime:

• Keep trying!

• Positive comments are never a bad thing and the safest for beginners.

• When in doubt, don't hit "Enter".

• And above ALL, if Dad ever joins us on Facebook [he won't], never ever, never refer to him as "babe".