Robbed

Have you ever been robbed? I have.

We are all robbed at some point in our lives. We lose trust, we lose faith in a future that was supposed to be so safe. We want yesterday back; we want a day we believed was ours, one that held the promise of good in our fellow man. Now it’s all gone. All we held near and dear, gone.

A shattered window, a picked lock. Glass shards litters the floor, a door knob dangles.

Sometimes material objects are stolen from us; heirlooms from past generations, tokens of love, all things we cannot replace.

Let me tell you about my robbery. This thief, stole time. Estranged from my mother for years, I long for lost time. Time to share with her many meaningful events with our five children, time to show her the woman, wife, mother and grandmother I’ve become. Time to hold her right hand when her left hand clung to a cane. Time to listen to her life’s lessons. Time in taking my time to become patient with her as together we eased into an unwanted yet predicted role reversal. She would no longer comfort my childhood growing pains; I would comfort her aches and pains that come with a body ravaged by years of living. I would dress her for bed, tuck her in, reassure and remind her of what her fragile mind had forgotten. I’d happily chase her fears and check under her bed for the monsters I used to fear; we’ve changed places.

She died. None of what I’d wished for would ever be. While I will always wish she could have loved me in the way a mother should, I will take immense pride knowing I broke the cycle that circled like a well-greased chain. Our relationship always took futile turns that led to dead ends. Robbed of the years that could have been, I finally parked my bicycle and walked away. My pockets now emptied of the guilt and “what ifs” left plenty of room for possibilities and potential goodness to come. Sometimes we must leave the past in the past. It’s so futile to believe there would ever be reminiscence. Still, there are pebbles in my shoes that serve as a subtle reminder; the gold pocket watch necklace she once promised she’d leave to me “if I was good” will never hug my neck. She shattered my childhood, and for years picked away at the scab from incessant rejection that stole years of what could have been lovely and loving. I look through the intact windows of my heart and know that she unintentionally opened so many doors for me; healing, hope, and a lust for living. Had she not taken so much I would not have gained so much and become who I am- a woman who lives to love.

Still some of us are robbed by a different kind of loss; the death of a treasured loved one. Recently I attended the  funeral for the mother of a friend. The hands of time tick, the flame flickers and soon, candle wax meets wick. The heart, in its miraculous fashion, attempts to fill the aching space with a new kind of normal. In the face of the surviving husband I saw a raw and raging grief. For 66 years they shared their bed, their hearts, their children and their dreams.

I only met her once, but it was enough to give me a sense of all she was. She was loving and kind, thoughtful and devoted. A designer with magnificent taste, all she endeavored was met with unmatched beauty. Her hobbies, her home and her heart knew no beige; for her, life was lived in vivid color! She cared with fierce confidence. She led life with purpose and passion; how lucky for those who got to know her!

But now she’s gone, leaving in her wake memories of a well-lived lifetime. But well-lived doesn’t mean long enough. All who knew and loved her wish she could have lived for so much longer.

Her legacy, however, can be kept alive. Just like a chain letter, if those who knew her embrace and assimilate her goodness into their own endeavors, those who never knew her can know all she stood for. This is how we honor her. Her family and friends were robbed of more time shared with her; but this can be a new continuance of lessons she embraced.

Sometimes a robbery teaches us lessons we never wanted, yet desperately needed. The time is now to savor the seconds and make memories wherever we can. Babies aren’t born with watches and children resist an end to playtime. We were once children too; don’t wait to be robbed of all that can be ours!  Allow the cobwebs to  round out the corners of rooms filled with laughter and joy! The dust won’t even settle when we dance through our days. Don’t wish the years away. Love through all the days; don’t waste Monday through Friday for the sake of the weekend.

As the weeks turn to years, fear not the robbers. They might steal your car but they can’t steal your heart. And when loss comes to call and you feel so lost, I will drive you home.