In
the wee hours of the morning, when I could not sleep, I got up and sat
in my recliner and thought about my mother and how she would have
reacted to the current crisis. In particular, I recalled one night when
she was staying with us toward the end of her life. She had dementia and
would wander at night. That night I found her sitting on the living
room couch. I sat down next to her and in the poignancy of the moment
and the stillness of the dark room, I started to cry realizing that she
would not be with us much longer and would have to be institutionalized
for her own safety and well-being. I put my head on her knee and she
stroked my head, telling me not to cry and that it would be alright.
Neither she nor I knew the heartache that would come for both of us as a
result of her illness. She did not like being in a "home" and I felt
guilty and sad that she needed to be there but it was what it was and
there was no changing the course of events as they transpired.
Today I am feeling the same kind of vague anxiety about the future. None of us has a crystal ball that can predict who will get the much-dreaded corona virus that is killing thousands of Americans. We have government officials that are basically leaving interventions and guidelines up to the state governments. The federal government seems more interested in upholding private corporation's ability to make money from this situation. We are assured that things will get better but at what cost of life in the meantime?
My mother lived through the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918. She suffered through the Great Depression and all of the sacrifices people were asked to make during World War II. She worked at a factory, making $12.50 per week from the time she was a sophomore in high school and forced by her family to quit school for the much needed income and she worked there for 12 years until she married in 1937. At least her family of origin (13 people in all) was resourceful. Her father had a large garden and her mother and the three oldest siblings helped by canning food. Later in life, she came down with the Hong Kong flu and nearly hemorrhaged to death and would have died, had I not been on hand to call an ambulance.
Yes, Mom managed to escape death from several pandemics. She maintained a good attitude of "It's going to be alright!" Even though that word, "alright," may mean different things and may represent various outcomes, I can tell you that she lived to be 92, having outlived two of her children.
Somehow, the remembrance of her words soothes my soul. Like her, I feel that I am a survivor, having gone through a number of miserable experiences in my own life. For today, and in the comfort of my own home with no place to go and nothing to do but creative and intellectual pursuits, I believe her words. No matter the outcome, life will go on. The daffodils will still come up in the spring, the dandelions will blossom like clockwork, and people will live or die according to a Divine Plan of which we cannot know or imagine. "All is right with my soul," as the old hymn says.
Patricia Cummings
April 2020
Today I am feeling the same kind of vague anxiety about the future. None of us has a crystal ball that can predict who will get the much-dreaded corona virus that is killing thousands of Americans. We have government officials that are basically leaving interventions and guidelines up to the state governments. The federal government seems more interested in upholding private corporation's ability to make money from this situation. We are assured that things will get better but at what cost of life in the meantime?
My mother lived through the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918. She suffered through the Great Depression and all of the sacrifices people were asked to make during World War II. She worked at a factory, making $12.50 per week from the time she was a sophomore in high school and forced by her family to quit school for the much needed income and she worked there for 12 years until she married in 1937. At least her family of origin (13 people in all) was resourceful. Her father had a large garden and her mother and the three oldest siblings helped by canning food. Later in life, she came down with the Hong Kong flu and nearly hemorrhaged to death and would have died, had I not been on hand to call an ambulance.
Yes, Mom managed to escape death from several pandemics. She maintained a good attitude of "It's going to be alright!" Even though that word, "alright," may mean different things and may represent various outcomes, I can tell you that she lived to be 92, having outlived two of her children.
Somehow, the remembrance of her words soothes my soul. Like her, I feel that I am a survivor, having gone through a number of miserable experiences in my own life. For today, and in the comfort of my own home with no place to go and nothing to do but creative and intellectual pursuits, I believe her words. No matter the outcome, life will go on. The daffodils will still come up in the spring, the dandelions will blossom like clockwork, and people will live or die according to a Divine Plan of which we cannot know or imagine. "All is right with my soul," as the old hymn says.
Patricia Cummings
April 2020
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