I didn't know S2's mom very well, but I met and talked with her on a few occasions. What I can say I know best about her is that she produced a woman, a daughter, as firey and fierce and fabulous as S2, which says more (to me) than any other equally simple sentence might capture.
Tonight, I attended her mom's farewell soiree, an evening party to bring together those who would celebrate her life even as they mourn her death back on December 27.
I can't imagine the pain of losing a beloved mother. In almost all respects, it is a pain I will never know. (When the Notorious M.O.M. kicks it, all I envision is the work of trying to release residual pain and anger about what I never had in life rather than what I lose through her death.)
But tonight, in S2's father's dramatic but cozy, wood-warmed house in the West Hills, I had the opportunity to see what kind of party a loving family throws for a woman who, if my sense of her is accurate and if the photos I saw fairly represent, was a spirited celebrant of life itself.
The slide show S2's dad assembled and ran on a loop on a TV down in the den showed her mother from the beginning of life up until her health began to decline several years ago. I only ever knew her in the last two years of her life, so it was a treat to see more. (Not to mention getting to see photos of particular events or activities from S2's childhood that she has told me stories about.) The photos tell a visual life story of a woman who was athletic, adventurous, quite the beauty (wow... some of those photos of her as a young woman!), an active and involved mom who participated in civic life and was quite taken with theatrical performance. As I watched the slide show, I listened to a group of older adults in the room talking about S2's mom, how they knew her, how they knew each other now because of her and how much they miss her (as well as a few other mutual friends who have died in recent years).
Although it was a different type of event -- catered soiree vs. potluck memorial, for one -- I saw a similar outpouring of love for my Tia L, who died last year. It occurred to me that some people in this world touch a LOT of folks, embolden and enliven a lot of hearts, soothe a lot of souls. If the gathering I observed tonight is any indication, S2's mom clearly was one of those spirits.
Which is why I take such heart in seeing how S2 is carrying on that legacy herself and how it lives in other family members and dear friends, as well. I never knew her mom well, but what I knew of her from our encounters was spirited kindness, an edgy sense of humor and great love for her family. In having S2 as a dear friend, I benefit from what she brought into this world every day. We should all be so lucky to see our own legacies so clearly.
At this celebration of her life, I knew few others in attendance. In the scheme of things, I am a very new addition to S2's life. I almost laughed when S2's sister introduced me to someone as a "classmate" and the man said, "Oh, *another* Lincoln High graduate." ... Uh, no, I replied, we're in school together now.
At this party, I was an outsider beyond outsiders, knowing almost no one in the crowd and not really speaking their language (of all the shared history and connections). I went by myself and had to work hard to strike up conversations with people. Curiously, one question I got asked several times by strangers was, "How many children do you have?" When I would reply, "None," I got a range of responses from: "Oh," (at which point the conversation suddenly ended) to a very sweet and long-time close family friend of S2's who replied, "Well, we were kind of late bloomers, too...."
Eventually, I found some friends of S2's older sister who were in a similar boat as I in terms of knowing hardly anyone there, and I got through much of the awkwardness (for me) of this evening by chatting with one of them who kindly overlooked me saying I have no children and didn't shame me when I spilled a bunch of Zinfandel on my white pants.
I learned some interesting things about S2's sister in the process, and because I am the one who could identify S2's daughters walking through the crowd, I didn't have to offer up any secrets of my own. Periodically, I could just say, See, that one is Little Pea. Doesn't she look like her grandmother? and then, using my handy Therapist Ray Gun v.2008, I could quickly induce them to tell me about their marriages and their experiences with S2's mom without having to give up anything of my own. Which is good, because the only thing I had to trade of interest to them were S2's "version of events," as one of the sister's friends put it, and there was no way in hell I was coughing up any *real* information. Fortunately, these women were moms, and they considered my ability to identify and point out to them S2, Little Pea and Getting to Yes as "real" information. Phew!
Anyway, one reason I felt so awkward this evening is because I have a fair amount of social anxiety when it comes to attending large events at which I know no one and have no role to play. I was there in support of my friend, who was having a good time and thus required no support. Because I had no one to hang with, I sometimes had difficulty even figuring out where to stand. S2's mom had SO MANY long-time friends and so many family members who came to celebrate her that when I arrived, almost every bit of their 3,000-square-foot home was heavily populated. S2 mentioned to me a few weeks ago that her family was being rather selective in who they invited, too, so heaven only knows how many people might have shown up otherwise.
I can't imagine for all the world that even a fraction of the people who turned out this evening to celebrate her life would so much as notice mine. It occurs to me that some people are born into this world with more blessings than others, more character, better temperament, better looks, better parents, more love, more gifts, more energy, more vitality. Compared to this woman, compared to most of her family and offspring as far as I can tell, I am impoverished. (A dog and a few dear friends comprise the totality of my interpersonal personal life.)
And yet, I am enriched (with hope for myself and others who have thus far not felt so blessed) by knowing this: When you extend love to others -- as S2's mom clearly did -- you sometimes receive it in return, as it appears she did throughout her life and tonight. What you anticipate getting in return is not the reason to love, but on those occasions when it does come back around, it feels so good that you just naturally want to put more of it out there.
Generate a cycle of that giving and receiving, and perhaps you end up with what I witnessed tonight. About a month before she unexpectedly died, S2's mom told her family that she had "lived a charmed life."
Indeed.
But it wasn't something she took for granted. She actually lived it.
Tonight, amidst this crowd of party-goers, I felt her saying, "Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you." And, unconnected to all that history as I am, I felt the privilege of being there to witness it. By all accounts, she had a grand life. It is nice to know such things actually exist.
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