Why is it that the pleasant is swirled in with the difficult?
Recently I told my girls the story of our proposal, which was forty five years ago. I included the lovely details, like walking by Cairncrest on an autumn afternoon, and our dreamy betrothal on a hill. Yet, I did not omit the angst that was part of the mix. I
had asked my boss in Chicago for a few days off so I could help my father commit my mom to a psychiatric hospital, which he agreed to. I flew to Philly, and it was as you might expect. Awful. She held it together for a small engagement party with six guests.... our parents and us. But in her manic states she leaned into high fat foods, and the table was a curious medley of mayonnaise, butter, mixed nuts, and spiced crackers. John's mother was very cordial, if
confused.
Yet, when I wasn't in distress, I was elated. John had asked me to marry me and I had said yes! This was the opening of our charmed life. Looking back, I am astonished that he did not respond to the underbelly of my family by running the other way. He always was incredibly kind to my mother. Finding someone who loves you when life is peachy is the stuff of fairy tales. Partnering with someone who holds your hand in the storms in
another.
We had another rough day with Benjamin. He was devastated not to have seen his friends in awhile, and erupted in a torrent of anger mixed with grief, much like sleet combined with rain. I reached my saturation point for being yelled at and gave myself a time out. After a few breaths the thought occurred to me to invite his friend out for a snack. We picked her up the next day, and Benjamin was his most cordial self. The coffee shop was
not crowded, and I felt grateful for the calm. Ben began singing about Frosty, which made his friend laugh between bites. I was grateful to be a witness to their enjoyment of one another's company, and the dessert.
If it had not come on the heels of a weary day I would have been grateful. But in the aftermath of turmoil, a word like "happy" doesn't come close.
