01/31/2023
Iām not just the executive directorā¦Iām an end-user of EOL care, too. Hereās part of my story:
A few years backāabout a month after my youngest brotherās tragic death from ALSāI was laying in my bed in the morning and I had a grief attack. It surprised me, because it came seemingly out of nowhere. Yet despite the lack of any obvious trigger, it was as strong and real and new and fresh as Day One.
I allowed myself a good, deep languorous cry and afterwards...as I was laying there in my bed staring blankly, something red caught my attention. I turned to look out of the window and was amazed at what I saw.
The āvolunteerā Japanese maple in the corner of the yard was ablaze in fiery garnet glory and was dancing joyfully with the wind. Thirteen years prior, she had been but a sprig⦠a mere twig that had commandeered a spot on the outside of our back fence and next to our vegetable garden. We had debated whether we should rip her out or let her live. We let her live.
For years she was a tiny, spindly, and insignificant interloper with no real beauty. And she hid inauspiciously behind the Old Gum tree who stalwartly stands his ground inside the fence and commandeers all the attention in Autumn with his golden glory. But now, no longer unassuming, she has herself become grand in her crimson glory. Clothed in her last best dressing-gown, she defiantly stands tall and unabashedly raises her fiery arms above the height of the fence to the heavens to greet the sun (and to throw some shade while sheās at it!) And the dappled shadows she creates on the lawn while doing so are splendid. The girl has moxie.
She peeks from behind the Old Gum, her branches gleefully dancing in the wind. Teasing me, she boisterously bounces and raises her arms and claps her hands in joyful adulation and beckons me to join in the dance. She sways in rhythms to the cadence of the wind and tickles the soft blue autumn sky with her lacey fingers.
Iām glad we let her live, because that day I needed her there with me. I needed her vicarious moxie and her vivacious adulation. Today, too, I need her standing tall, glowing cheerful and bright, reminding me that life is beautiful and boisterous... mysterious and serendipitous, dappled with dark and light, filled with precious sorrow and joy. And I need her all year roundāfrom season to seasonāto remind me that the tenuous things that we nurture in one season can present themselves to us in another season in order that they might nurture us.
And she is an accident. And she is all joy. And her joie de vivre cajoles me to re-enter the world that mysteriously holds life and death...sunshine and shadows...accidents and joy. And, watching her dance in the wind, I am again at peace.
Copyright Tracy B. Dickerson, November 2021 Ā©ļø