Lessons From the River — Finding Balance in Love and Life
Reflections on the legacy we hope to leave.
Making the decision to have a child — it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ― attributed to Elizabeth Stone; citation unknown.
When I moved 2,000 miles away from my children and grandchildren, I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t expect the wound to cut so deeply. I fly south two or three times a year, but I hadn’t seen my oldest son, Seth, in two years.
Now, he was beside me, driving my car and eager to head out for a day of fishing. If I were a cat, I’d purr.
This was the first time I’d seen him since he was diagnosed with cancer last year. I wanted to fly to New Mexico, to be by his side, to hold him, and cry.
But he said, “Mom, there’s nothing you can do. My wife and all my friends from the National Guard are here. You and I will go camping when I’m done with chemo.”
So, I called and I texted, my heart bleeding with him so far away.
A year of worry had passed since his diagnosis, and now, seeing him healthy, I felt an ache of gratitude mixed with lingering concern. He looked strong and healthy, but I knew he had changed. Staring at mortality close up does that…
