As a child, my life felt void of meaning, until various external, future events would trigger a feeling of excitement and anticipation. A visit from my grandmother, who lived on the East Coast, a holiday, a party we could attend, a trip to my aunt and uncle.
As I grew older, I was still motivated by the future I would have, the career I would build, the money I’d earn, the man I’d marry, the children I would have.
Eventually, there he was, my first child, and I was swamped in the present. In the diapers and crying, rashes and tantrums, illogical demands of a baby who cannot tell me what he wants and expects. I rushed back to work, where adults spoke with words and body language I could understand, and had expectations I could meet. Arrange that event, contact that person, make a deal, earn us a profit…
And then my son fell ill; they thought he would die on that first day on the operating table… but he survived. He was riddled with cancer and yet he smiled, he laughed, he sang, danced even. Suddenly, through this child of mine, this meaningful person who I had not yet learned to fully appreciate, I learned that today is the day that is full of meaning. That if I looked only to the future - that anticipation might be of more illness, or death, so it was better to stay in the here and now.
The house filled up with visitors, my inbox with good wishes, my life suddenly overflowed with both joy and tears.
And although Yarden has moved on from this world to the next, he has left me with many gifts. Among them, an enormous feeling of gratefulness for what I do have. For the day, for the moment, my senses, health, friends and family, a good place to live, my surviving children, my ever-growing capacity to love.
“The past is history, the future a mystery, the present is a gift.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)
As I grew older, I was still motivated by the future I would have, the career I would build, the money I’d earn, the man I’d marry, the children I would have.
Eventually, there he was, my first child, and I was swamped in the present. In the diapers and crying, rashes and tantrums, illogical demands of a baby who cannot tell me what he wants and expects. I rushed back to work, where adults spoke with words and body language I could understand, and had expectations I could meet. Arrange that event, contact that person, make a deal, earn us a profit…
And then my son fell ill; they thought he would die on that first day on the operating table… but he survived. He was riddled with cancer and yet he smiled, he laughed, he sang, danced even. Suddenly, through this child of mine, this meaningful person who I had not yet learned to fully appreciate, I learned that today is the day that is full of meaning. That if I looked only to the future - that anticipation might be of more illness, or death, so it was better to stay in the here and now.
The house filled up with visitors, my inbox with good wishes, my life suddenly overflowed with both joy and tears.
And although Yarden has moved on from this world to the next, he has left me with many gifts. Among them, an enormous feeling of gratefulness for what I do have. For the day, for the moment, my senses, health, friends and family, a good place to live, my surviving children, my ever-growing capacity to love.
“The past is history, the future a mystery, the present is a gift.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)
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