Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Past Tense, Present Tense

My mother and father, wedding day 1951

Once upon a time I was a fifteen-year-old with no father. This had happened very suddenly. Like as suddenly as a heart attack, mainly because it was a heart attack. My father was alive one second and dead the next.

When I was a kid and I first realized that there was such a thing called death, the first thing I thought was that I couldn't bear to lose my parents. I knew my grandparents would die one day because they seemed very old to my young eyes, but not my parents. It was absolutely beyond my imagination that my parents would someday not be there. It was something best not thought of. So even though my father had had a minor heart attack before we moved to Arizona from Chicago, I never dwelled on his mortality. He was strong like an ox, he was stubborn like an ox. The word "ox" came up a lot when discussing my father. And yet, he was gone.

At fifteen I looked around and I saw that I was pretty much alone in this strange new world of half-orphans. Everyone else my age had fathers. No one else had to redo the way they spoke, to eliminate the word "parents" from their vocabulary and replace it with the word "mother." No one else had to start using past tense when speaking of their dad.

And now it's just the opposite. The years have passed. The language has changed. When you're fifty, everyone speaks of their parents in past tense because almost no one has a parent. If we meet up at a reunion it's never, "How are your parents?" There's more gingerly touching upon the subject, a more careful question: "Do you still have your parents?"

And suddenly, the exact opposite of myself at fifteen, at fifty I'm overcome by my abundance. Somehow, I still have a mother. I'm one of the few who doesn't have to mark her life by the days she lost one parent and then the other. Beyond all reason, all my doubts, all my fears, there she is, alive at nearly eighty.

So even though there's something a little quieter about her now, and something slowing down, and something that's definitely leaving, I think of that fifteen-year-old who thought she was so unlucky, and I think of this fifty-year-old who is so lucky, really. Because eighty is good. If she almost got killed at age twelve while running from Nazis in the forest of Belarus and instead of dying she's almost eighty, that's good.

Do you remember realizing your parents were mortal when you were a kid? How distressing was that? Was there ever a time when you had to change the way you spoke about your family, due to divorce or death, at an awkward time?

38 comments:

  1. I never realized my parents were mortal when I was a kid...I never thought about death. i think when your poor your too buys thinking about other things. As for changing the way I spoke about my family...lol. um, only every time my mom changed last names. She got married four times. lol.
    I realized my mom was mortal a couple of years ago when I went home and saw that she looked older and was forgetting more things. And when you wrote
    "Because eighty is good. If she almost got killed at age twelve while running from Nazis in the forest of Belarus and instead of dying she's almost eighty, that's good."
    I cried.
    Because your right. Every minute after that was a blessing from G*D. Every hug, every meal, every moment...every birth...
    Hugs.

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  2. Chris, so funny about your mother changing last names! What an optimist! I'm sure to a kid it was very annoying. My mother dated some very interesting characters after my father died!

    And thanks for the other part of your comment. I really have so much to be grateful for. I have to remember that.

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  3. That was simply beautiful, Linda. Thank you for sharing.

    My parents divorced rather suddenly when I was 15. Until I was 30, I was lead to believe that my dad just left with very spotty contact for the next 5 years before he magically reappeared in my life-married. I had a very hard time in high school never quite sure how to refer to my family or my father. Of course, I found out, at age 30 when I finally confronted him about his apparent lack of interest in his children during those years, that my mother returned all letters and packages and when he showed up at our house, refused to let him see us. She gave us untruths about what happened in those years. He actually handed me a box of all the letters, cards and things that had been sent back to him over the years. And so, I had to redefine who my father and mother were once again at age 30.

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  4. Aw, shucks Linda, you've got me misty-eyed. First I'm thinking of you at 15; next I'm thinking of your mother triumphing over her childhood just by surviving this long...
    When I went away to school at 18, I didn't see my dad for a couple of months. When he came to pick me up, he walked into the dorm room and it just hit me: he's getting older; he won't always be here. It was very weird. Of course, they're both still here, tho I rarely see them. But I am going to Fl to see them this weekend. Yay.
    Lovely words...

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  5. I'm with Maureen; this post made me a little gloppy. What a triumph--for both you and your mother.

    My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and given a 2% chance of survival when I was in the third grade, so she's been mortal to me since then. However, she survived, and has survived a handful of other cancers as well, so I consider us a lucky pair. Tough old birds, we call ourselves. :)

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  6. My dad died suddenly and unexpectedly when I was in my early 20s. I sat in my mom's home and went through her rolodex to notify their friends. I got so many comments like "He was so young" but to me he wasn't, he was my dad, after all. Now that I am nearing that age, I realize just how young he was! I have viewed death differently since losing him. And I am also thankful to have my mom, weight lifting and active at 74. Her mother lived into her 90s so I expect to have my mom's company for many more years:)

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  7. This post was just beautiful! I love the shift over time from being one of the few without to one of the few with. And looking at how lucky she was to be alive at all makes it even more poignant.

    My father had a brain tumor and major surgery when I was 15, but even then, I don't think I've fully accepted their mortality. I was born with all my great grandparents live, and still have 1/2 my grandparents.

    But they are all starting to show their age, and when my grandmother died last spring, I began to really face my own parent's mortality.

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  8. Six years ago my father had a major heart attack and suffered through six months of very poor health.

    It culminated if you will in him having a triple bypass two days before my daughter was born. So I suppose that it was during this time that I realized that dad was my superman, but not the superman.

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  9. Thank you for this beautiful post, Linda.

    Growing up, I was lucky to have two healthy parents in an intact marriage. Only recently, as my parents get a bit older and experience some health issues, have I started to contemplate the subtle shifts in our relationship. I find myself wondering when the roles will change and I start making some decisions for them (child becomes the parent).

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  10. Linda, this post brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for continuing to write such beautiful and meaningful blogs and for sharing them with all of us!!! xoxo Julie

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  11. Oh dear Linda. I lost my Dad from a hear attack when I was 19. We were so young. So very, very young. Everyone turns to me in times of mourning. Like I'm the expert. I also lost my sister.

    And my Mother suffers with Alzheimer's. And like your mother ran from the Nazis. Lived. Loved. And loved more.

    Oh dear Linda.

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  12. It's so strange. My father, in perfect health, was killed in a car accident one sunny morning. I had talked to him the evening before on the phone. Then he was gone. He was little older than I am now. I was about 30, still single. The world crashed.

    My mother died in her sleep of a heart attack - also of the "strong as an ox and she'll outlive us all" variety, about 5 years ago.

    We had a difficult relationship at best, yet I remember feeling as though a chair had been knocked out from under me. Two things kept playing through my mind: that I was now "the oldest generation," and that I was an orphan.

    I realize now how fortunate I am in that I knew all four of my grandparents well into my teen years and three of them into adulthood, and I knew one of my great grandparents as well. On my side of the family, my children will never have that.

    I understand. And of course - much harder at 15 than at 30, or 40. But at any age, we feel strangely and irrevocably altered.

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  13. That was beautifully written. It was an onion post. So many layers and that jolt to the heart at the end.

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  14. I lost my father almost eight years ago after a 7 year battle with cancer. My mother is still alive, but I have lost her to a major depression over the last fews years, spurned on by Parkinson's Disease. Whether your childhood was happy or not, there is something within you that always needs your parents.

    I noticed at a very early age that my parents were much older than my counterparts (my mother is turning 75 this year, my father would have been 85 this year and I will be 37 in a couple of months). I was the oddball then, and in many ways, I still am. Caring for an elderly parent weighs on you, much like parenting. You question your choices, wondering if you are handling situations in the right way.

    Like anything else, you have to do the best you can and hope it is the best decision. I am happy that I have gone through these experiences. It colors the way I react to certain situations. It has made me look within myself to avoid falling into the depression that seems to be hereditary and to make decisions based on what's best, not what is expected.

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  15. My best friend's mother died from cancer when we were seniors in high school. Somehow (self-preservation?) I never allowed myself to think it could happen to my parents and I convinced myself, right up until the end, that my friend's mother would be fine. I see my parents getting older and vaguely think about what happens next, but in many ways I am still in denial. Self-preservation runs strong in these bones, I suppose.

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  16. You have an interesting heritage. That must have been so hard to deal with, being fifteen and losing your father. He must have been an amazing man and he lived through some incredibly tough times as did your mother. I am lucky in that both my parents, in their mid-70's are still alive, fit and healthy but I never met either of my grandfathers who died long before I was born, when my mother and father were both children. They both fought in the first world war and although they survived they never fully recovered either.

    Thank you for stopping by my blog today and for your comments.

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  17. Linda,

    That makes me sad knowing what Bubbe is going through medically. I can't bear to think of her being a past tense term. I know McKenzie and her are bonded but Genevieve may not get that opportunity and I too understand that most little kids do not have a great grandparent. I appreciate and love every minute I have had with her. She is a sweet soul, a wonderful entertaining women so hot and cold at times that yes, you must write to let people in on the humor that is Bubbe. Love you! Heather

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  18. Yes, I often think about my parent's mortality. It scares me because there are still so many little ones at home. I am constantly talking with my husband about what we would do. All this is exasperated by my mother's references to her future death. It really freaks me out.

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  19. Points of synchronicity, coming from Chicago as do you, fifty this year like you... yet I was fortunate to grow up with both parents. However, my mom's dad died, of a heart attack at fifty, when my mom was fourteen. And he died when he saw pictures of Aushwitz, smuggled out while the war was still going, and realized that his nine brothers and sisters had been killed there (a sister survived, but he was never to know that, and I only learned of it this year (http://tinyurl.com/y2busxn).

    I'm named after this grandfather I never knew, and as my son is now fifteen, sometimes my heart catches in my chest and I wonder if I might be bound to his same fate. But no one ever said I was anything like an ox, so I'm hoping my non-hearty stock will float on for awhile.

    I'm really sorry that you had to lose your dad so young, I've seen the scar that leaves... but maybe also the deepening of soul and compassion as you honor your dad with your loving and giving spirit.

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  20. My mother, when I was rather young - I think under 10 but cannot remember exact age - was in a horrible car accident. She fell asleep at the wheel driving home from visiting my sister and I (long story). That taught me mortality in a big way.

    I had grandparents until 16 years ago. Okay, at that point in time I had only one surviving grandparent but still I felt very lucky to 33 and still have a living grandmother.

    Now at 48, I have one parent and two step-parents living. I have to say that it is hard to teach your children about mortality. A few years back my ex had emergency brain surgery and that did it for me. I never thought I would have to deal with that type of possible death and my children when they were so young.

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  21. I can see the resemblance between you and your mother. Why did your mother, a single woman with 7 daughters move to Arizona? Yossi from Israel

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  22. What you wrote was beautiful. What made it sad was that I am part of your family and remember your dad so vividly. When I met your parents in 1957 they were only married six years. It is true that everyone called your dad the oz. He was so very handsome and extremely charming. He was always laughing and making everyone else around him laugh also. He had a vibrant personality. On my wedding day he would grab Faibol to offer him advice. You write beautifully about your sorrow and realizing how we can be here at this moment and as quickly be gone the next.

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  23. Jennifer, that is really rough when one parent keeps another parent away. In my case, after my dad died, there was definitely some filtering of how we were supposed to feel about him based on how my mom felt about him, and she wasn't too happy about being left destitute. It took me years to realize that my relationship with my father, dead or not, was independent of my mother's.

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  24. Maureen, sometimes there is that gap like you had with your dad, where suddenly you notice that they're not young anymore. I'm so totally divorced form reality that I had my mom frozen at age 60 for the last 20 years, believe it or not! It was devastating realizing a few months ago that I was wrong.

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  25. TKW, how scary and how fortunate for your mom that she was in the 2%! Wow.

    Karen, I remember everyone said my dad was so young too, but I was fifteen so I thought 48 was pretty decent. I remember thinking "At least he didn't die young." The arrogance of youth! Amazing that your mother weight lifts at 74! So great!

    Charlotte, When you said that about your dad with his brain tumor, it reminded me that despite my dad's earlier health problems I still always thought he was immortal. He had such a strong life force; I couldn't imagine how that could ever not be here.

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  26. Jack, that's really something, when there's one person in the family doing so poorly and another being born - juxtaposed like that! I hope your father's doing well now.

    Kristen, that shift from being the child to being the equal to having to do some traditional "parent"-type things yourself, is a very nebulous thing. They need you long before they know it.

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  27. Julie, thanks for your comment on the blog. It means a lot to me, and to know it touched you.

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  28. Terry, like anyone can ever be an expert at mourning! It's something you don't exactly want to be an expert at, right? I'm sorry about your mother with some new stuff going on with my own I'm only starting to see how completely devastating that is. So have we decided we're twins separated at birth yet?

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  29. BLW, unbelievable for you to have lost both your parents suddenly. I'm so sorry. It's like your life just has this fork in the road and that's it; there's the life you imagined and the life you got and they're not the same.

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  30. Robin, Thanks so much. I appreciate it.

    Stacia, I think with cancer we almost get used to the treatment phase of it and forget that some people just don't survive that, that it's not survivable. The suffering part seems to be permanent and then we're surprised by the end.

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  31. Maria, Thanks for your comment. I agree with guarding against depression, especially when you see it in other family members and worry about a genetic component. And you're right, you are young to be living with one parent gone and one absent due to disease and depression. I always thought, if it has to happen, at least let it happen after I have the structure of my own life in place. You certainly have that.

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  32. Aging Mommy,
    Thanks for your kind words. My dad travelled a long way in his lifetime - from a village in Poland to a house in Scottsdale. It was quite a journey and he did it all by working hard, too hard as it turns out.

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  33. Anonymous (Heather), I know I should print these up to show mom/bubbe but lately I'm worried that things will make her sad, especially if they have to do with aging. You've now had your grandmother longer than I had mine! And lucky, lucky McKenzie and Genevieve!

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  34. Amber, I don't blame you for thinking about things like this especially with so many young brothers and sisters. Since your mother must be around my age (or younger) I'm surprised that she speaks of her death often. Do you know why? I know that even though I've had such horrific medical conditions that I should think my demise is imminent, I never do.

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  35. Bruce, how shocking about your grandfather dying upon hearing the news from Auschwitz, and how devastating for your family to have sustained such a loss. I'm amazed as an adult that, although I came from two survivor parents, I was surrounded by family, all other survivors. But one was in the forest and the other in Siberia, not concentration camps.

    Thanks for your kind comments.

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  36. Nicki, I'm so sorry about your mom being in such a horrible accident.

    And about mortality? I don't know how I'd do any of this stuff without being able to talk about my belief in God and the immortal soul. I also love to be able to teach them that having faith doesn't mean having all the answers, just that you have faith that there are answers.

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  37. Yosef, Actually, my dad died a year and a half after we moved to Arizona. One sister was married already so they moved with the other six. It wasn't the best Jewish idea they ever had, as far as Jewish organizations in the early 1970s, but we did love Arizona the minute we got here. Enough so that, when he did die, she didn't consider moving back to Chicago.

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  38. Sarah, Thanks so much for your comment. My dad was larger than life, I think that's one of the reasons it was so impossible to believe he had died. And I can totally imagine him pulling Faibol aside to give him advice at the wedding! He was always giving everyone advice!

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