By Kathy Melia Levine
Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.
~Anthony Brandt
How do you say goodbye to your mother after she's given you a lifetime of love? I had well over a year to come up with an answer to that question after she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Would my goodbye take the form of a letter? A party to celebrate her life? A simple but profound conversation? Or something more lighthearted, like a scrapbook filled with eighty-three years of stories and photos? Turns out I didn't need to plan a thing. When the heat in her building broke down one cold winter day, I found an opportunity for a mother/daughter event that brought us closer in an unexpected way.
Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.
~Anthony Brandt
How do you say goodbye to your mother after she's given you a lifetime of love? I had well over a year to come up with an answer to that question after she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Would my goodbye take the form of a letter? A party to celebrate her life? A simple but profound conversation? Or something more lighthearted, like a scrapbook filled with eighty-three years of stories and photos? Turns out I didn't need to plan a thing. When the heat in her building broke down one cold winter day, I found an opportunity for a mother/daughter event that brought us closer in an unexpected way.
She was frail during that last winter and I knew that even a few hours in an ice-cold apartment wouldn't do her any good. So although she'd been housebound for many months — and preferred sleeping in her own bed — she reluctantly agreed to come to my house and spend the night.
For some families, this might be routine. But in the thirty-five years since I'd left home, my mother had never once slept at my house. Our family was big — and the last time I had a chunk of time alone with her was when I stayed home sick from school. Much as I loved her, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world I would do with her. Would we play cards? Sit around and chat about old times? I decided to rent a movie to keep her entertained. As I walked through the aisles of the rental store, I rejected the off-color comedies, erotic romances, and bloody thrillers. When I came upon the wildlife documentary, March of the Penguins, I had a hunch I'd found the right diversion.
Mom didn't seem particularly delighted with my choice at first. But once I set her up on the couch with pillows and a blanket — in the same way she'd cared for me years earlier — she immersed herself in the story. And what a tale it was! The documentary followed a colony of Emperor penguins during their perilous rites of starting a family. Each year, hundreds of them march in single file through the brutal terrain of Antarctica to the breeding grounds where they conduct their mating rituals. The pairing off is instant, instinctive and destined to last for a lifetime. Soon after the choice is made, the female penguin lays a single egg and passes it on to her partner for safekeeping while she takes on more pressing tasks.
My mother and I watched in awe as one male penguin began the challenge of protecting his precious bundle, balancing the huge egg between his feet and stomach for months, enduring icy winds and frigid temperatures over 100 degrees below zero. Did I mention that the father-to-be couldn't eat throughout this entire period? Hundreds of other male penguins were in the same situation, huddling together and defying the odds to keep each other warm. My mom laughed as she recalled how my dad — though he loved his five daughters — couldn't even change a diaper! As the drama continued, we saw the mother penguin begin her arduous journey to the sea in treacherous conditions to stock up on fish for herself and her family. When she finally returned months later, she instantly spotted her partner from among the hundreds of penguins waiting — and recognized the call of her newly hatched chick.
Once the movie was over, the beauty of the story moved us to talk about the joys, the struggles and the occasional heartbreaks that come with raising a family. Though my parents never faced the menacing conditions of Antarctica, they too had their challenges. Finding the perfect partner, making a lasting commitment to each other, taking on the sometimes harsh responsibilities of raising children weren't always easy. But with family, there were always rewards.
On the first — and last — night my mother slept in my home, we settled in the comfort of those lasting rewards. For a unique tale set in ice-cold Antarctica had reminded us of the soothing warmth of family, as it melted the chilling fears that ruffled our hearts.
For some families, this might be routine. But in the thirty-five years since I'd left home, my mother had never once slept at my house. Our family was big — and the last time I had a chunk of time alone with her was when I stayed home sick from school. Much as I loved her, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world I would do with her. Would we play cards? Sit around and chat about old times? I decided to rent a movie to keep her entertained. As I walked through the aisles of the rental store, I rejected the off-color comedies, erotic romances, and bloody thrillers. When I came upon the wildlife documentary, March of the Penguins, I had a hunch I'd found the right diversion.
Mom didn't seem particularly delighted with my choice at first. But once I set her up on the couch with pillows and a blanket — in the same way she'd cared for me years earlier — she immersed herself in the story. And what a tale it was! The documentary followed a colony of Emperor penguins during their perilous rites of starting a family. Each year, hundreds of them march in single file through the brutal terrain of Antarctica to the breeding grounds where they conduct their mating rituals. The pairing off is instant, instinctive and destined to last for a lifetime. Soon after the choice is made, the female penguin lays a single egg and passes it on to her partner for safekeeping while she takes on more pressing tasks.
My mother and I watched in awe as one male penguin began the challenge of protecting his precious bundle, balancing the huge egg between his feet and stomach for months, enduring icy winds and frigid temperatures over 100 degrees below zero. Did I mention that the father-to-be couldn't eat throughout this entire period? Hundreds of other male penguins were in the same situation, huddling together and defying the odds to keep each other warm. My mom laughed as she recalled how my dad — though he loved his five daughters — couldn't even change a diaper! As the drama continued, we saw the mother penguin begin her arduous journey to the sea in treacherous conditions to stock up on fish for herself and her family. When she finally returned months later, she instantly spotted her partner from among the hundreds of penguins waiting — and recognized the call of her newly hatched chick.
Once the movie was over, the beauty of the story moved us to talk about the joys, the struggles and the occasional heartbreaks that come with raising a family. Though my parents never faced the menacing conditions of Antarctica, they too had their challenges. Finding the perfect partner, making a lasting commitment to each other, taking on the sometimes harsh responsibilities of raising children weren't always easy. But with family, there were always rewards.
On the first — and last — night my mother slept in my home, we settled in the comfort of those lasting rewards. For a unique tale set in ice-cold Antarctica had reminded us of the soothing warmth of family, as it melted the chilling fears that ruffled our hearts.
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