Thursday, March 29, 2007

Tiny Bubbles...

My parents (ages 76 and 70) are leaving for Hawaii on Saturday. Well, Hawaii by way of San Francisco before flying to Maui on the following Wednesday. Two of my six brothers live in the San Francisco area -- and it's the older of those two who suggested Mother and Dad accompany him and his family to Hawaii for the week. Mother and Dad will stay at the younger brother's place in the city for the first couple of days (where they can get to know their latest grandson, born in January of this year) before going to my other brother's the night before they fly out. They are excited beyond belief.

Some of my siblings don't share our parents' enthusiasm. "What are they thinking? They'll never be able to handle this. It's so far away! What if something happens to one or both of them?"

True - they've both had health issues in the past few years. My mother's most recent hospitalization resulted in surgery to implant a pacemaker. But, they both have their doctors' blessings, have plenty of meds, ZIP Lock bags, sunscreen, beach cover-ups and bucket hats. My father even has a pair of wild floral shorts he can't wait to wear to a luau. Tourists, beware -- I've seen these on him and they are not meant to be viewed by small children or easily-spooked animals (...guess the pig will be safe).

So, I thought I'd try to calm some fears by answering their questions:

"What are they thinking?"
They're thinking that after 51 years of marriage, after raising nine children, remembering my father traveling all over the globe before he retired as a industrial trade magazine editor while my mother stayed home with all of us, both of them having serious health issues that could (and should) have had a much different outcome... they're thinking they've never seen Hawaii and it's high time they did. And it is. A line from one of my favorite movies, "The Shawshank Redemption," says it all: Get busy living, or get busy dying.

"They'll never be able to handle this."
Oh please. They handled all nine of us. This will be a walk in the park (or in this case - on the beach) compared to all of that.

"It's so far away!"
Yeah, so? Living less than an arm's distance away from them -- which would mean in the same house -- could be considered too far. Any one of you ready to move back home?

"What if something happens to one or both of them?"
Well, it could happen here, there or anywhere. If it does, we'll handle it. What if the 'something' that happens is that they have a wonderful time? That's the kind of something I'm hoping for.

It occurred to me that our parents were probably asking themselves variations on these same questions when -- one by one -- each of us left home to go to kindergarten, to college, to start a new job, to get married, to move to the West Coast or even just the next town -- and especially while taking the family station wagon out for a solo spin hours after passing our drivers' tests. Can you imagine all of the nailbiting that went on over the years? And yet, we all turned out just fine and their nails grew back in time for the next go around.

So, rest easy, my worrisome siblings. It really is their turn and I'm proud of them for taking it. Now it's our turn to let them go.

Ka Huaka`i Maika`i, Mother and Dad!

Monday, March 26, 2007

Treatable Though Not Cureable

The return of Elizabeth Edward's breast cancer, so soon after a short remission, knocked the wind out of my family. We have not moved on to any opinions as to whether or not John Edwards should stay in the 2008 race for President. We're still wrestling with how and why this news affects us as it does.

We lost our mother to breast cancer nearly a year ago. Her almost annual biopsies (in the early days they were benign as she had fibrocystic breast disease) became routine to us until, after 15 years, she found a new lump. My father talked about it the other night.

"We were in bed and her hand dropped to her left breast. She touched it and said to me, "I have cancer. Feel this." They acted quickly and the lump was so small the radiologist said he didn't know how she found it. That early detection gave her 19 more years with us. When it returned it was aggressive and savage. She died within six months.

As a family, we have not come to terms with my mother's death. In fact, I'm not sure any one of us has come to terms individually. But, I know this. I won't judge the Edwards' decisions about whether he should run or how she has chosen to deal with her illness. I do know that each of the members of my family looks back on the last months -- and years -- of my mother's life and wish we'd done some things differently. I also know that what she'd say is that we shouldn't. That we should have no regrets. That we were human and did the best we could.

I think that's what it's like for the Edwards family. They are -- God bless them -- doing the best they can. I wish them well.