THE PAST INFORMS THE PRESENT

 Monday March 3^rd   1969, just one week after my 14^th  birthday  was a chilly, grey morning in Yonkers, New York and there was a blanket of snow on the ground when I woke. I asked if I could stay home from school- I was a freshman -and was surprised and delighted when my lame request for a ‘snow day’ was granted.

 

I could hear my father and grandmother in the kitchen having coffee. My mother was sitting on the couch mending underwear. Daddy came in and took her pulse, something he did every morning since her heart attack nearly two years ago.  If her heartbeat was above a certain rate, she took a pill, otherwise, she was stable and on the mend. On this morning, her heart rate was up a bit, so she took her medicine, a new prescription. I remember my father saying that as he opened the bottle for her.

 

I was still in my nightie, sitting in the swivel rocking chair, my favorite spot. My dad went to shave. Mom resumed sewing and I resumed rocking…I was facing her, looking out the big windows towards the Hudson River and watching the clouds.  The sewing dropped into her lap and her head came up. Then she just fell back, and off to the side and I yelled to my father and grandfather, “Something’s wrong with Mommy!” 

Next thing I know, the three of us were rubbing and patting her arms. Her lips were blue. I knew she was dying and would soon be dead. I stepped back. My Dad called for an ambulance and we scooted her onto the floor so my Dad could  give her mouth to mouth and my grandfather rushed me from the room. I remember my grandma handing me a clothes to put on, and the sound of the paramedics pounding up the 4 flights of stairs to get to her. I was in Grandma’s bedroom, hands like ice. Terrified.  Just as I walked into the kitchen, my grandmother closed the kitchen door so I wouldn’t see them carry her body out. But I could hear them. And I knew. She was buried on what would have been her 46^th birthday.  That was 45 years ago today. 

 

There were a great many changes in the years that followed and I was, for the most part, on my own from that day forward. Clueless about so many things and ignorant of how to be a woman in a ‘man’s world’.  I fled to college at age 17 on a scholarship, and there I had a taste of the friendships, community and belonging that I longed for. I felt at home there, but I was unable to know how much my future was to be colored with struggle and loss as a result of those early years. But I learned, and slowly raised myself to be the person I’d wanted to become.

 

That 14 year old self is still with me, though I have coaxed her into the present and integrated her into this life and the woman I’ve become. She has helped me think young, take risks, play music, study fascinating subjects and meet interesting people. She still helps me be silly, reminds me to slow down, and to watch the stars. Through honoring my  awareness of her desire to connect, to learn, to explore I have stayed young, vital and curious.

 

At 59 years old I still sometimes find myself back in that living room, but no longer as a spectator. I now I put my hand on the shoulder of my 14 year old self, turn her to face me, hug her, and lead her back to the life we have created and continue creating.

 

This coming year I am consciously devoting to doing the things I have dreamed of doing since those early days. In deference to raising my own two children,  I never have explored the world or traveled to find the places where my ancestors are still singing and telling stories . Now my girls are in their 30’s and I’m about to be a Grandma. It’s time to travel, to visit old friends & make new allies, before I ‘settle down’. I’m looking forward to this journey and to all the adventures along the way as I continue to follow the dreams and desires that have been whispering to me through the years, and I can almost feel my parents and grandparents smile at me from the other side.