If I died tomorrow, or even today in a fiery hot car crash and people arrived at my funeral, talked about how I mattered, what would they say? Would they mention how busy I was raising kids and driving carpools? Would they talk about how I made school lunches and got dinner on the table every night? Would they talk about how I redecorated my parents’ home, how I helped with their farm finances, helped them buy a car, cleaned their garage? Would they talk about how much I loved my family? How I worried about them in the middle of the night? How I was so incredibly in love with my husband? How I loved my kids with all my heart until it hurt? Would they talk about how I helped my clients with their businesses? How I helped them strategize and improve the bottom line with almost limitless zeal through long term relationships, love and tender care? Would they talk about how I was sometimes bitchy and cranky? How I would get upset by injustice? How I would rattle cages and sometimes annoy even those who love me? Would my life, my legacy, my journey be viewed as enough by those who mourned? Would they talk about the feelings close to my heart or far away? Would my life of toting water, buying bootleg raw milk, and cooking for my family be enough? It is enough for...
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I met a woman on an airplane this morning. We were sitting next to each other on a very long flight from Buffalo to Phoenix. We said hello and talked about general travel thoughts when we got on board, and then we both napped. Toward the end of the flight we started talking. She was from the Ukraine and had been living in Toronto for 25 years. I asked about how it was for her being an immigrant to Canada. She told me Canada saved her life. She told me how much she loves Canada and about her house she sold, moving to Newmarket, Ontario and retiring. And she said that now she is a little bored. We talked about mothers and mothers-in-law and children. She told me about her first marriage and how she had a mother-in-law that was great but a husband who wasn’t so great and that he had since died. And she told me that she had remarried. She shared stories of life in the Ukraine. She told me about being there when Chernobyl happened. She told me about not being able to get information and having to talk to family in Canada to find out what was happening in her own country. She told me about not being able to get food in the Ukraine before she left. She said there just wasn’t any food on the shelves to buy. She said now there is food on the shelves but no one has money to it. She told me about her step-son who raises chickens and grows his own vegetables because he has time but no money to buy food. It gave me a glimpse of a swing back to an agrarian society and how it might happen. It was a new and interesting thought to me. I felt connection from sharing the intimate details of our lives and our hearts. She was kind and passionate about her family. I felt a little pang of disappointment as we...
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