Reflections of a Brief Time on Earth

Memorial Day 2024

We knew this was not going to end well. There were bottles everywhere and the odor was simultaneously sweet and nauseating. A window air conditioner hissed at full blast indicating it was either on its last leg or angry to be on during a cool Spring Day. “This is going to be bad,” I whispered fatalistically. Mom, ever the optimist, whispering just above the hiss agreed, “It will be a challenge, we’ll get through it.”

A challenge. That was my mother’s synonym for what I described as bad, disastrous, devastating, tragic, or my favorite “well, this is a cluster” punctuated with an eye roll. I inherited her stoic demeanor. She saw a challenge; she stepped in without a tear to quickly make things right. While she operated silently and emotionlessly overcoming adversities, I muttered the entire time.

If life is a circus, Mom accepted a role on the ringmaster’s broom brigade. She cleaned up what was carelessly left by the performers after an amazing, sometimes dangerous experience in society’s Big Top. I was initially training as her dutiful apprentice. Eventually, it became too much. I relegated my participation to becoming a silent patron of her work funding select clean-up projects.

As Mom pulled the door closed and the hallway was quiet, the glance we shared was a tacit agreement we were in over our heads. We resumed our normal programming, went to lunch, and didn’t speak of the scene we witnessed. A few weeks later, my mother was present during the birth. I arrived at the hospital the next morning. My eldest niece was born on May 27, 1994. She suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome. The previous sentence could have ended with its first two words.

From the beginning, there were surgeries initially to open her clenched fists. Mom optimistically surmised the tiny bundle was going to fight her tortured beginning and overcome the challenge. It didn’t work that way. She suffered.

Every stage was a struggle. There were bright moments, birthday parties, family reunions, holiday visits, and a vacation to Disney World. Even good days had a hold-your-breath quality. Victory could not be declared until she was deep asleep at night. We suffered with her.

The bad days were horrific. Threats, tears, fluffy white polyester stuffing of slashed teddy bear innards strewn across the bed with a message. Dank air filled the prosecutor’s office painted with drab gray walls. There were uncomfortable metal chairs and a steel table connected to the floor. Fluorescent tube lights flicker overhead like one was about to go out. It never did, it just clashed. Even with eyes closed the strobe light continued behind my lids. It became familiar. Suffering en masse.

Well-meaning advice. Tsk Tsk. Thoughts and prayers. “Here is what I would do….” TYVM Everyone.

My niece has not had a birthday since 2021. We prayed, hoped, dreamed, and imagined if we loved her enough, miracles would happen. They didn’t. Perhaps, now her spirit finds the peace that alluded her in life.

“If you cannot be grateful for what you have received, then be thankful for what you have been spared.” (Yiddish proverb)