Life and death...perhaps the original ripple. A life begins, miraculous in itself. The ripples begin, circling out and out and out. Eventually, the ripples begin to return, in and in, smaller, tighter closer. The miracle of life, in this incarnation anyway, ceases.
Life. Especially new life! Oh so amazing! All those cells dividing to head to a stunning sum; a breathing, wriggling, snuggly irresistible creature arrives. New life has such a pull for me...as time goes on and as my own children have passed into adulthood, babies are just such a confirmation of hope and faith. Plus they just smell so yummy!
Death though, now that's another animal entirely. In our culture, we fear death and all it entails...loss, sadness, uncertainty, pain of all kinds. No less miraculous, just much tougher to grasp.
Yesterday, I had the privilege to receive news of both new life and death. Yes, you heard me, privilege. In this world of news-at-your-fingertips, we forget that news is shared. Someone thinks 'this is valuable information...I'll share it with you.' Well I certainly got my share yesterday.
Yesterday morning before I started work, I took a few minutes to check out Facebook. I came across News Gift Number One. Friends of ours recently welcomed their new daughter into the world, and they'd put a slide show of her home birth into an album which appeared on Facebook yesterday morning. Let me tell you, there are few words to describe it. Mom labored and gave birth at home, as naturally as could be. And though Mom had shared her experience with me already, while I held their 2-week-old sweet pea in my arms, the black and white photos of their family in these tender hours really told the story. 'Beautiful', like 'awesome' and 'amazing', have become such trite and overused words, but it was truly a thing of simple and emotional beauty. I was privileged to be able to witness it and celebrate the joy of a new life.
Later on that day, I received News Gift Number Two. This time though, I received news of the end of life. A young life. Ouch. Much more difficult to see this as a privilege.
Early this summer, in the midst of a very hectic day of massage, I looked over the client information form of my next client. The things I immediately noticed...Her unusual name. Her age. 14. And a glaring statement at the bottom of the page. Bone Marrow Transplant. As someone once said, "Hold up, wait a minute!" Took myself a few seconds and approached the only 14-year-old in the lobby. Reached my hand out and took hers. Introductions were exchanged and so began one of the most impactful hours of my life.
We headed back to my massage room. I explained what this type of massage is all about, since it was to be her first professional massage. Then I asked about the bone marrow stuff. She was matter-of-fact and clear. Diagnosed with cancer at 4. Bone marrow transplant coming up in a few weeks. Yow.
We had our session. Her body relaxed very well for a person unused to that kind of touch. Through my hands, I sent every positive message of gratitude that I had within me. She loved her massage, and as with any client, I loved helping her to feel better in some way. At the end of our session, I gave her a gift certificate that I'd received...I told her to feel free to come back before her procedure and that I'd be happy to help her relax before the big event. She and her Mom were very grateful. I was blown away by the entire thing.
The date of her transplant approached and she and her Mom appeared on our schedule. Shortly before the transplant, their names vanished. The front desk staff told me that they'd had to cancel, Dr's orders. I felt a little shiver of something...fear, premonition, who knows. All I know is that girl had stuck with me. I thought of her very often and wished for her. The summer passed by.
2 days ago, as I checked my schedule, I saw her Mom's name. A little hope and more than a little dread surged through me. I mentioned to Rick that she was coming in and that I hoped to hear some news. I brought along one of my crazy zombie dolls as a gift...they are right up this girl's alley! The appointment time drew near.
Right on time, Mom came through the door. And I knew. I've only met her once and I just knew what she'd tell me. We headed back to my room.
I asked her "What's happening with you?" She said, "Well, you remember my daughter that you worked on?" I said, "Of course! She made a very big impact on me." And she said "Well, she passed, on the 11th." And you all know what I did. Gave her a big hug and started to cry. No time for professional boundaries in this case. She shared with me some details of the end of her daughter's life. What a painful, gorgeous, poignant gift to receive. We went on to agree that if the session was too tough for either of us, we'd let the other know. Instead, it was a beautiful give and take, between client and therapist, between Moms of children of any age, between women, between human beings. Astounding to me, every day, every session, the power of touch and human connection.
At the end of our session, she told me that it was perfect...just what she needed. And somehow, just like meeting her daughter that day this summer, it was just what I needed too.
I asked her if she'd like the doll that I made, and she took it with gratitude. She said what I had thought might be true, "Oh, she would have loved this!" We hugged and we parted ways. I have a feeling we'll meet again.
The gifts of this day were enormous for me. Reminders to live, really live life. Feel it all, suck it up and share it with anyone you meet. Be thankful for the intersections of your life with others. Some of these moments are just too stunning to let them fly by unnoticed.
Welcome, Ainsley.
Farewell, Sixx.
Thank you both so very much for the ripples you've begun.
