Soldiers, Parents, Men...

It was 10:45 last night (15 minutes before my shift ended). I was tired. A father called about his son who had just been discharged from the military at 25 years old. He said his son was “lost” and was dealing with it by drinking excessively. I was able to assist this father by locating a therapist who specialized in alcohol treatment. We talked about our own experiences in the military. This man had served for 20 years as a Marine Infantry officer. I cannot imagine the things he had experienced; what he saw over those 20 years. We had very different experiences as soldiers. I served in the Army for a short time as a behavioral science specialist and sat behind a desk. Despite this, we were able to talk. We had the commonality of being veterans, and forever soldiers. Equally important we were parents of sons whom we loved without question.

After completing our session this seemingly tough, gruff former Marine became silent. He actually broke down and sobbed, saying that a parent never stops worrying about their child, no matter what the age. He apologized for “bothering” me. I told him that everything would be all right no matter what. I felt that at that this military man, this soldier/Dad needed hope. I told him that his son knows he is loved and that is the important thing. I told him I knew this, inherently, as I have a son myself who is the same age and is an Infantry man. Guys at that age push the limits to grow, and hopefully, ultimately, become men. Real men that are strong and true. He thanked me and we ended the call. Late last night and all day today I was struck how touched I was. I felt I had the opportunity, in some way, to help this man and his son. These unexpected connections are what make life worth while. Life is good.

Who is that handsome young man?

I saw my mom today. She is in memory care as she has

vascular dementia.  I showed her a picture of she and my dad

when they first got engaged.  She asked me "Who is that handsome

young man?"  It struck me that how short life can be. I miss my

mom the way she was, but must love her the way she is.

Therein lies the blessing...

When the stars align and your path becomes clear, 

therein lies the blessing.

My travels, how beautiful…

Several times I have been asked why I travel.  I think, down deep, it is as much as seeing is to experience these things.  I remember standing in Vernazza in Cirque Terre, Italy.  I woke up at dawn as I wanted to experience the sunrise over the Ligurian Sea.  It was exquisite.  There were rocks emanating from the shoreline.  I am sure these rocks were hundreds, if not thousands of years old. They will remain so long after I am gone. The sunset over the horizon in Alfama district in Lisbon.  It is the only neighborhood that remained after the earthquake that devasted this city in in 1755. That tabby cat that walked over to me with the silver bell on its neck. She lovingly licked my hand as my son and I sat while taking a break while trekking up the Rock of Gibraltar. So many experiences and memories that I cannot list them.  Later in life, when I reach a certain age, my travels may be limited due to physical decline. I will hold these memories close to me.   Experiences that I will forever treasure and will reach for, lovingly, gently.  These will always remain the photographs of my life.

One hundred and two minutes….

It is Wednesday. A day in which I do the usual catching up on things which have fallen to the wayside during a busy week (another one, which is always the case). Since my son has gone into the military 7 months ago, I find myself filling my life with meaningful work (to me, at least).  The money is welcomed but is not the reason I sometimes work at a frenzied pace.  My dear friend recently told me that one must have a purpose.  Now that my son has launched, this single parent rediscovered her (at least one) purpose.  I work part time with an EAP in which my primary focus is on veterans and part time as a geriatric social worker whose role it is to connect low income seniors with resources in their community. The work keeps me busy and refocuses my attention away from myself and my concerns about my son serving in the military in this sometimes absurdly chaotic world. Lastly (and not in an order), it keeps my mind off my mother who has vascular dementia.

This writing is intended to focus upon her (and admittedly my interaction with her today). I stopped by the facility in which she has lived for nearly 2 years. She has been moved to assisted living to memory care due to her declining memory.  Before entering the building, I found the access code which I needed to enter the unit.  As I did so (always carefully, quietly) I discovered my mother in a group of ten women reminiscing. I felt intuitively that I needed to stay back.  I wanted to listen to these women talk about what was their lives (and I hoped, what is their lives). After a bit of time, my mother turned her head and saw me sitting on a sofa in the corner.  She smiled and asked me what I was doing there. Mom remembered my name and asked me how I was.  I asked her how she was and how she felt today.  She replied, “I’ve been here one hundred and two minutes. I think it will be okay.”  I’ll take that one hundred and two minutes from Mom.  And I do think (in her own way) she will be okay.