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Defining Moments
“Did you sleep okay last night?” My stepmom, seated across the dining room table from my dad, had asked the question of him once already. “Actually, I slept really well,” he answered. “Good,” she replied, genuinely relieved that he had enjoyed a peaceful night’s rest. Looking out the window at a world seemingly bathed in the warm Florida sunshine, I wondered if Dad realized that she had asked him that exact question only moments before. Perhaps he’s simply trying to reassure her, I reasoned.
Mom had been diagnosed only a month earlier with glioblastoma, a very aggressive and malignant brain tumor which was rapidly claiming her cognitive abilities and would extend its merciless claim on her life in only a few weeks. That she was Dad’s primary caretaker as he waged his own battle with Alzheimer’s was an especially cruel turn of events. He had already gone through a quintuple bypass and carotid artery surgery, with diabetes and sundry other ailments staking their claim on him. Yet here he was with Mom, who was several years his junior, as she tried to look after him even as her own terminal condition worsened.
In that instant, all of the dazzling flowers outside, opening their soft pedals to reveal such delicate beauty in the brilliant warmth of the sun seemed like a fiendish mirage — an apparition of heavenliness in a world rapidly falling apart. Brooding darkly, I was prepared to curse God, to curse fate, to curse every ghastly smile and idiotic frivolity in the world when my despondency was interrupted.
“Jim, did you sleep okay last night?” Mom had absolutely no memory of having asked that exact same question less than a minute earlier. Fearing that Dad’s own brooding would get the better of him, I waited for his response while being ready to somehow lend an assist and smooth things out if necessary. “I slept really well, thank you,” he smiled before asking, “How did you sleep?” “I slept really good,” she answered, nodding and smiling as if her favorite song had just begun playing on the radio.
If there was any melancholy from Dad, any sense that he knew she was repeating herself, I would have caught it immediately. I would have seen the realization flash in his eyes, if only for an instant, before he caught himself and responded as if Mom’s question was fresh. Sensing what was unfolding, I tried my best to blend into the scenery and stay out of the way.
Sure enough, moments later Mom asked, “Did you sleep okay last night?” To which Dad answered with a smile, “Yes, yes I slept very well.” “That’s goooood,” replied Mom, “very good.” It dawned on me what was happening. You see, somewhere in my stepmom’s cognitive decline, she and Dad had reached parity with each other. Her frustration with his Alzheimer’s and his aggravation with being unable to “keep up,” had yielded to one moment — one glorious, shining moment — when they were again in sync, expressing in tender unity their love and affection. Through the nightfall of pain and fear that was closing in, there emerged a moment of singular beauty and exquisite grace. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen; simultaneously sad and yet poignant enough that it still echoes in my heart so movingly.
So what prompts me to bring that moment to life in this space? Having seen a great many statements on social media to the effect that we aren’t defined by our mistakes, I had intended to explore the issue a bit. If none of us are defined by our mistakes, for example, how do we define, say, Nero? As an underappreciated Roman musician with a fondness for slaughtering Christians? Were Julius and Ethel Rosenberg merely Russian immigrants with a passing interest in recreational espionage?
Well as I say, I sat down prepared to write from the mind about what does and does not define us and yet …and yet here in the quiet of my little study, that memory of Mom and Dad kept flooding back to my mind and heart. I decided to do as Ricochet’s former Editor in Chief (and my friend) Troy Senik once advised, and get out the way of “the Muse.”
Oscar Levant once quipped that, “Underneath this flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.” So maybe we are defined just as much, if not more, by the character that informs our actions as by the actions themselves? Taking this a step further, is it not our character that shapes how we react to certain moments, so that it is our character which gives those moments any meaningful definition?
All of this was brought home when, as many of you know, I recently parted ways with my employer. What you may not know is that I’ve since accepted a management position with a very fine company featuring men’s clothing stores throughout the US, in Canada and even in London. In fact, I’ll be flying out of town for training in just a few days. I had refused to think of my departure from the previous company as a setback or even as a defining moment, though it did shed light on certain irreconcilable differences that I believe argued in my favor.
What is indisputable, however, is the fact that without that dissociation there would likely be no fresh opportunity of the sort which I am now undertaking, in a leadership role no less. Then there’s the old adage that it isn’t what happens to us, but rather how we react to it that is most important. Perhaps it’s an old adage because its wisdom is sturdy and eternal. For whether it is turbulence that yields to new horizons, or the gift of finding grace and profound love in the midst of cataclysmic suffering, it is our character that ultimately illuminates and defines our best and worst moments.
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Glad to hear you got a new job Dave. Good luck!
Thank you for this, Dave. I just finished reading Man’s Search for Meaning and this hit me hard. It is yet another example of the importance of finding meaning in tragedy.
And congratulations on the new job!
Congratulations again, Dave. Onward and upward.
Beautiful, Dave, just beautiful. Good luck!
Yes, “it isn’t what happens to us, but rather how we react to it that is most important.” It’s not the cards we are dealt but how we play them. Returning after a long sabbatical from Ricochet, what a joy to do so with your post, Dave! Lyrical, as always. And big kudos to you for embarking on, what, your 4th career? No better way to rejuvenate yourself and those who love you. Signing off by quoting @percival, who used one of my favorite phrases, “Onward and upward!”
I’m delighted that the new job hasn’t taken away your writing time….
{ I’m selfish that way, sometimes. }
What a beautiful recollection, Dave. It was hard to read the end of your post for the allergies that had suddenly taken over. Good luck with the new job.
Welcome back, and gratz on the new job! Looking forward to the Dave Carter line of men’s clothing . . .
I haven’t read that. Looks like another I’ll need to put it on the list, however. And thank you!
Thanks so much!
Onward, upward, forward, inside-outward,…whatever it takes, right?
Thanks Bob! As a teacher of mine said years ago, “Shut up and write. Now, where’s my Maalox.”
Dave!! Nice to see ya around these parts! And I’ve lost count of the careers now. Private Detective, Watch Repair, Retail, Military (subdivided into Security Forces and Historian), Radio, 18 Wheeler driver. I’ll narrow it down one day.
Me too!! That’s a pretty big deal actually,…though I’ll always find time to follow my passion.
Thanks! Yeah, those allergies can get rough, I know.
It’ll be the latest in Dressy Casual Cajun. (Shoes optional)
Sounds like a resume for a Kingsmen Agent. Now we need @ejhill to Photoshop you into a scene.
Are you doing a casting call for #4, cause #3 is out this summer.
Carter, Dave Carter.
Cut……
I love that story of your step-mom and father; I believe you told it around the time of your step-mom’s passing. I’ve told it often.
I read once that June Carter said to Johnny Cash, every single morning, “What can I do for you today, John?”
Good habits are best instilled early.
JY has just finished recovering from a full knee replacement (second one coming up on a month or two). My family has been for the most part blessed with health, so I have very little experience taking care of someone. While he was still bedridden, something very frustrating happened with work. I texted my daughter, “I am in the worst mood ever.” She replied, “Is dad driving you crazy?”
I replied, “No, it’s a work thing. Your dad is fine and a perfect patient.”
She replied, “Mom, I can’t tell if this is you or if dad has your phone. Blink twice if it’s you.”
I laughed so hard I got out of my bad mood.
That’s absolutely pricelesss!
What a sweet and loving tale of your parents.
And when a door closes, another one opens. Have fun on the new job!
Most important is to keep having fun while you continue to figure out what you want to be when you grow up!