How much do they want to know? Do they really want to know?
How much do I want to tell them? Do I really want to tell them?
Do they want to know that I just saw a recipe for shrimp tacos that Niels would have loved and I would have made for him…but never will be able to make for him? So I cried…
Do they want to know that I saw that man walking down the street – he had a bun and a beard and walked just like him and I took a quick breath thinking…maybe…and then I cried?
Do they want to know that I woke up from a dream where he was walking down the street with Glen and I waved…only to see them walk on…so I cried?
Do they want to know that as Blair and I ate our traditional St. Patrick’s meal on Sunday all I could think about was how much Niels enjoyed coming over to say hello to our guests and to share a plate full of corned beef and Colcannon…so I cried.
Do they want to know that I have his sweatshirt next to my bed…I can’t wash it because it smells like him and there are times when I reach for it before going to sleep and I cry?
Do they want to know that I cry because he’s just the person I need to talk to when I need advice so I look at his photo, close my eyes and wait for him to guide me…yet he’s not here to help me so I cry.
Do they want to know that my heart aches for his sister when I see her watching a YouTube video that they would have laughed about on Sunday evening…so I cry for her.
Do they want to know that when I talk with his co-workers about how much they miss him I smile to know how much he was loved and then I cry because they miss him, too.
Do they want to know that EVERY damn Star Wars reference makes me smile as I anticipate asking Niels about it when I see him on Sunday…and then I cry.
Do they want to know that when I walk down the hall and pass his photo I pause and send him a kiss and then I cry? Every time.
Grief is personal. It can be shared, but there are unwritten rules and expectations and I’m learning about the boundaries as I go…and sometimes I break them knowingly or unknowingly.
Grief doesn’t end. It is always right there at the edge of everything I see, everything I do, everywhere I go.
I never know what will remind me that my boy is not here. Yesterday it was a key lime tart recipe. Tomorrow it may be the sound of the crack of a baseball bat or a saxophone warming up at the concert.
So…I just wait…sitting on the edge of the seat of life to see where I will see him, where I will hear him, where I will feel him.
Mom and I enjoying a snuggle about a year and a half ago
The Circle of Life is real. And it’s impossible to say those three words without singing it and for me…that song ALWAYS brings a tear to my eye.
When The Lion King came out in the 90s, Blair was about three and Niels five. We were not big movie-goers, but of course the three of us went to the matinee at the old Walnut Creek theater on California Blvd. I was mesmerized by the music and the story, as were my kids; Blair in particular. During the entire movie, she sat on the edge of her seat and quietly asked appropriate 3-year-old questions about what was happening on screen. She was so curious and completely enthralled by it all. She carried around a stuffed Nala for years and played with a whole host of Lion King figurines, recreating the scenes from the movie and creating her own. I think I still have some of those in Blair’s “childhood” box. I probably have Nala (and Simba), too.
As the movie ended and after the credits rolled, we needed a stop at the restroom. There was a bit of a line, but I eventually took Blair into a stall while Niels patiently waited outside the door. As we were taking care of business…I overheard a 60ish year old woman and her 80ish year old mother come in to the restroom talking about that rude girl who had “talked throughout the entire movie.” They were so annoyed that the girl’s mother hadn’t “taken her out of the theater until she could be quiet.” OH NO – don’t you mess with this mama lioness and her cub!
I immediately knew that the catty, complaining women were the ones seated behind us in the theater because throughout the movie, they kept shushing Blair and tapping the back of my seat. While I was able to ignore them in the theater, I had finally had enough of their grouchy, grumbling grievances and I whipped out of that stall and said to them in an overly sweet voice, “Perhaps…if you don’t want to listen to children at a children’s matinee of a children’s movie, you should consider going to the 10:00 pm showing.”
For some reason, that experience has stuck with me. It definitely did not ruin the movie though because it’s the ONLY movie I’ve ever seen in a theater more than once and we saw it 5 times! I still LOVE that movie (and the play, of course) and now after these last six months…its message is even more meaningful.
When the circle of life happens in the order that things are meant to happen…it can be a comforting experience. Or maybe an experience that is expected just feels right? I don’t know for sure, but in the last months I’ve experienced one passing that was unexpected and definitely NOT right, not the natural circle of life order of things and then last week my 98 1/2 year old mom passed which was a peaceful, expected ending to a long, full life – just as the circle of life prescribes.
I was fortunate to be with my mom in her last days. By the time I arrived, she had already said her last words and closed her eyes for the last time; she was peacefully resting in her bed. As I sat and reminisced with her, I reminded her of all the people who loved her – those here on this earth and those who were waiting for her to join them.
As I watched her quietly sleeping in her final hour, I saw that her breathing was slowing. I had dimmed the lights and was holding her hand. She was completely calm and peaceful with no sign of pain or worry as I watched her breathe – in…..out…in…out…
In those last quiet moments, I had two thoughts and I whispered them to her.
I told her that she was the strong woman who had brought me into this world 66 years ago and the woman who had nurtured me and carried me through this world. Now I was honored and glad to be the woman who could be there to carry her into her next world. Together in that moment, my mom and I were completing our Circle of Life.
I thanked Mom for that honor…and as I said those words, this Sunday school song from long ago popped into my head and I couldn’t help myself from quietly singing it to her…as I watched her breath continue to slow…
This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.
I’d like to tell you another story. It’s connected to my last story…but you’ll have to wait until the end…
Last week, we got the call…Mom had changed and it was time to get in the car and head for Pasadena. I had the honor and privilege to be with Mom in her last days. And I had the honor and privilege to spend some time with the caregivers who gave Mom loving care and who gave me peace of mind as I lived far away.
Now where does this “Roberto” fit in to the story? He’s the very sweet nurse who waved and smiled every time he walked past Mom’s room. His demeanor just made you smile even if you were feeling blue. I had met Roberto a couple times before. He is one of those people who draws you in with his twinkling eyes, his quick smile and his giggle. His Spanish accent is also very endearing. The last time I was in town, he helped my brother-in-law with an issue that I won’t even go into here…but trust me…it was not part of Roberto’s job description, yet he pleasantly, happily did what he could to help him out. Clearly, Roberto is in the right profession because he just makes you feel better when he’s in the room!
The day after Mom passed I was back in her room packing her belongings and when Roberto saw me, he immediately came in to console me. His deep brown eyes told me that he truly cared for Mom and he asked if he could hug me. He also wanted to tell me a story from his first day on the job. The entire time he told me this story he had a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eyes and he was quick to giggle as the story unfolded.
Roberto – Day One – or I should say Night One as he worked the night shift?
Having Roberto on the night shift was a good thing for Mom as she was a night owl. Night shifts are usually a little more relaxed and for this reason, Roberto had some extra time that he could use to visit with Mom. The two of them seemed to have developed a nice relationship in the wee hours of the night. Here’s the story as told to me by Roberto…
On Night One, as he walked the halls checking on his patients, he saw that “Mary” (her given name though she went by “Betty”) was awake with the light on. As usual, she was playing cards so he went to her bedside to greet her and see if she needed anything. He said, “Hello, Mrs. Densmore, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Roberto.”
Now I know Mom and I’m sure she looked back at his twinkling eyes with a twinkle in her eyes. He then asked her if she needed anything. She told him that she was cold, so he glanced around the room looking for a blanket. When he brought her the small blue, crocheted lap blanket (for Mom, everything was always some shade of blue), she told him no, she didn’t need a blanket. It was her hands that were cold and as she said it, she reached out to take his hand. As he took her hand, she put her hand over his and then he covered both of her hands with both of his. Her hands were indeed cold. Mom looked at Roberto and then she slowly pulled his hands to her lips and kissed them and thanked him.
Roberto told me that he was a little surprised and a little uncomfortable by the kiss and yet he knew it that it was such a loving gesture. So he thanked her for the kiss and asked if there was anything else he could do for her before he gently pulled his hands away and headed out into the hall to take care of his other patients.
As he turned to wave goodbye “for now”, Mom looked at him with her twinkling eyes and a devilish smile, and then she gave him a wink and a wave. As Roberto told me about the wink, he gave me a wink. So sweet.
Roberto told me that on this – his very first shift, he had been a little uncomfortable by the exchange with Mrs. Densmore. He walked directly to the nurse’s station where he uncomfortably giggled as he told the charge nurse about his experience. He told her that he had felt a little “violated” by the sweet old lady in 26B and then he went on to check on his other patients.
Roberto told me that though his first day had started out a little oddly, by the end of his week he understood that it was nothing but a sweet, generous act shared with him by a sweet little old lady who was also a bit lonely.
That was the beginning of Roberto’s and Mom’s beautiful love story. He continued to take care of her and he took joy in being with her. He said that every night he spent some time playing cards with her. She couldn’t remember how to play, but that didn’t matter because they would just chat and take turns putting cards down on her tray. This is how their evening rendezvous continued…
I’m so grateful for the joy and the love that Roberto and others shared with Mom in her last years. I know she was lonely, but never alone. She never complained about anything; she never made any of us feel guilty for the amount of time that she spent alone in her room. And when anyone entered her room, she always showed joy and appreciation that they were there. She often would say, “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but thank you for coming!” (My sister and I received the same greeting!) It made it so easy for visitors and staff to care for her and just be with her because she made them all feel worthy and appreciated. I’m so grateful for that. I’m so grateful for her.
As I share the story of Roberto and Mom, I’m reminded of my last post about Niels and how his kindness was received by the staff at Panama Bay Coffee shop. I shared about the daily “gift” he gave them by arriving with a smile, a giggle and by simply being kind. When my friend Kimmy read that post, she texted me and said, “Joyce (aka “potato sister” to her), you know who raised him, right?”
Today, our social media threads are full of advice for starting the New Year off on the right foot. We get information about how we can eat cleanly, celebrate a dry January, get organized, start exercising, create a practice of gratitude….the list goes on and on and all of it is great advice although maybe it’s a bit ambitious and unrealistic?
There are also so many feel good stories today including wedding engagements, travel photos, inspirational music videos and dogs…so many dogs. (My favorite feel good story!)
And then there are the devastating headline news stories. It’s hard to figure out how to live in a world that feels so topsy turvey and often upside down.
This morning, I read a post on Threads about a person who said that when they entered a coffee shop, they were welcomed warmly because they always came in with a smile and a friendly demeanor. Those of a certain age will remember “Norm” of Cheers fame. He’s a great example of that phenomena though “Norm” maybe wasn’t always Mr. Cheery!
Well, let me tell you a story about Niels, the “Norm” of his favorite coffee shop. Just one more reason why I loved him so and miss him so. It’s also another example of what it means to others when you are kind and friendly. It’s so simple. Really it is…
Once upon a time…
A couple weeks ago, Blair and I (Glen was ill with pneumonia) were invited to visit Niels’ Walnut Creek office. We had offered to donate all of Niels’ gaming equipment to them and our timing was great because they were remodeling so they created a memorial gaming center in their kitchen lounge in Niels’ honor. They asked us to come to see it and even provided lunch.
Part of Niels’ Moss Adams family, plus Blair and me
As we were sitting around the conference table enjoying lunch, one of his colleagues mentioned that the employees at Panama Bay Coffee that is around the corner from the office, wanted us to stop by so they could meet us. The employees had been missing Niels and had only recently heard the news; they were pretty devastated.
As Blair and I drove away from the office that afternoon, we realized that we hadn’t taken the time to stop by Panama Bay, but agreed we’d go soon. Later that evening, we met a couple of Niels’ colleagues for a glass of wine and they arrived with a big bag FULL of “goodies” from Panama Bay.
photo credit to “John Alexander” from the Google search of Panama Bay
First, Blair and I were disappointed in ourselves that we hadn’t taken the time to stop by earlier in the day to personally pick up the unexpected bag and to meet them. Honestly, we were already a bit of an emotional wreck that afternoon and maybe it would have been too much. Still…
So we came home and opened up the bag full of goodies and when I say full…I mean coffee, cookie mixes, tshirts, gift cards, and most importantly…hand-written personal notes from each employee telling us why Niels was their favorite customer. Yes, open the flood gates…Please indulge me as I share some excerpts of their remembrances…
The letter started with “To those who love Niels…”
The news of his passing was heartbreaking…we miss him every day…we want to share why we hold our memories of him dear to our hearts…
Niels always had a smile on his face…if it was busy he would be so understanding and wait patiently…if he was working through the weekend…he never voiced an ounce of irritation. He loved what he did and who he did it with…Niels taught me patience and forgiveness. He would always share his joy…he would pay for his coworkers drinks…and he was always surrounded by laughs and smiles…a truly happy person.
Niels never failed to make me laugh or smile…he always came with a funny story or joke. I loved watching him cross the street and I would have his drink ready to hand to him when he walked in…he would always be so surprised and happy. He was kind and sweet and stayed a couple minutes to talk…I wish I could thank him for being the best regular customer at Panama Bay.
Niels was always so kind, gentle and patient. He will be missed.
Niels was so hard working. I don’t remember him having many days off. He was a patient and kind soul. I remember seeing him on a phone call walking by and he was so giddy and happy, like a kid. That’s how I always have and always will picture him in my mind.
I always had great conversations with Niels. He always treated his coworkers and always had a smile on his face.
From the first time I met him, he was a genuine and kind soul. I loved our conversations…he came with the best energy. He left a lasting mark on all of us at Panama Bay Coffee.
From the Ava, General Manager: Niels was one of a kind. He was a part of our Panama Bay family. Niels will live on in all of our hearts. Thank you for bringing Niels into this world for us to get to know and to love.
She went on to ask if we could bring them a photo of Niels. They want to “share” the story of Niels with their Panama Bay community. So we did. We took in a favorite photo of him. It was taken at a wedding of a colleague and we only have it because she shared it with us.
Thank you, Payton.
Thank you, Ava and the rest of the Panama Bay for being such an important part of Niels’ life. AND for sharing your Niels story with us. You’ll never know how much it means to us.
And for the readers – (assuming you’re still reading)…It is SO simple.
Be kind. Wear a smile. Be giddy. Act like a kid. Tell a joke.
Take time for a short conversation.
Pay it forward.
Make someone feel like they are the reason you are there.
Be patient. Forgive. Be kind.
Bring your best energy to everything you do.
And lastly…don’t forget to take care of yourself. Because if you don’t…you may not be able to continue to be all those things to all the people who love you.
And finally, to Niels…we can continue to love you by trying to be more like you.
That’s my New Year’s resolution. Be more like Niels.
From inside the “castle” that is Panama Bay. Yes. You do. Panama Bay brews joy and so much more. Thank you, Panama Bay for bringing a bit more of Niels to us all. #PanamaBayCoffeeCo @panamabaycoffeeco #newyearsresolutions
A mustard stain on her shirt? That triggered a memory that will forever bring me a smile and a regret.
We were at an A’s game. The kids were just old enough to start roaming the stadium on their own. Niels was ready for lunch so we sent him up with a $20 bill to purchase a couple hot dogs. (…”things sure were cheaper back in the day” said the old lady storyteller)
Now everyone knew that Mom hated catsup…especially on her hot dog, but still, as her newly independent son prepared to bolt up the stairs toward the concessions, she gave him a stern reminder that she ONLY wanted mustard on her hot dog. You know where this story is going…when the hot dog conquerer arrived and proudly extended the gourmet meal to his mom, it was slathered in mustard AND catsup.
Now, Mom must have been “in a mood” because she had a bit of a hissy fit. And by a bit…I remember it now as a fit way out of proportion to the “crime”. I mean WAY beyond reasonable. It was one of those low moments in parenting where you have to think…what was REALLY going on for her at that moment…but we won’t try to analyze that all these years later. Just know that it became a part of our family lore.
And Niels loved to tell the story of how his mom “lost it” over some catsup. He always got a good laugh out of it at someone’s expense. And he always started it with…”I love my mom, I love my mom, but…
It’s not a flattering story…and yet it does bring me a smile at remembering the laughs it got as Niels retold it billions of times* (only a slight* exaggeration). It also brings a regret that I went so off the rails at a moment that should have been memorable for more important reasons…like maybe a son’s budding independence and pleasure in “providing” for his family? Sheesh. #mommistake #parentingfauxpas #wtfwasthat
And here’s the “never say never” story –
Guess what today is? It’s “eat my words” day! Yep. Getting a tattoo today. Never in a billion years did I think I’d say those words or do that thing. But…people change. Circumstances change. Thinking changes. And today…I’m getting a tattoo to honor and remember my son…that catsup loving boy who grew into a Star Wars loving man.
Yes, that was a hint…Stay tuned for a photo – but for now know that my tattoo will always bring me a smile remembering Niels.
I’m no writer, but I’ve read enough poems and essays to know that “winter solstice” is a stand in for the spirit of hope – for the return of the peace, light and warmth to our hearts, our lives, our earth.
Is it coincidence that winter solstice also comes near the time of Christmas, Hanukkah, the beginning of new years, and so many more celebrations of light and rebirth? Maybe. Maybe not.
There is no holiday or pagan celebration that will “turn the page” on grief. No date on a calendar will give me hope of a “new beginning”. No ringing of bells, singing of carols, nor lighting of candles will bring a spirit of rebirth to my broken heart.
But could there be a new peace? Is there a place where there is evidence of a new feeling of warmth? Of love? Can I find a place in my heart to carry my grief with softness? With acceptance? Can I wear my grief like a soft glove that protects my hands from the rough surfaces of life?
I saw “A Christmas Carol” three times this year. (I’m a volunteer usher at the Lesher Center for the Arts.) Three times. I know Scrooge and I are not the same. Our hearts are hardened for different reasons. He’s completely without compassion for his community. Truth is…he doesn’t even have compassion for himself. But given three caring ghosts who love him enough to teach him a lesson…he opens his heart (and pocketbook) and learns how to give and receive love. And three times I softly cried in the theater as Scrooge woke up on that third morning and bounced around the stage so filled with joy and hope and love. Will I ever “bounce” again?
If there’s anything I’ve learned during this time of grief, it’s how to open my heart to the gift of love and compassion from my community. I haven’t had any “ghosts” visit me in my dreams to teach me, but I’ve had hoards of friends and family near and far who have reached out to provide comfort, love, and a respite from the grief that is always just sitting there at the edge of my heart…just waiting to bring me to my knees…again.
I want to express my unending gratitude to my BIG community of love. You all have been my solstice. My light. You have been my hope…as I work my way towards peace.
And…thank you Mr. Scrooge for giving me hope of having some “bounce” in my life again someday.
The first time I was knocked off my feet by that number was when someone said, “Get together for a picture.” Glen, Blair and I – three – gathered arm in arm with smiles on our faces and before the “click” of the camera, I called out, “Family photo!”.
And it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. Our family of FOUR had turned into…three.
I don’t think that the photo exists. The photographer probably saw it as a bad shot, possibly a blurred shot with an untimely movement. Because as I said, “Family photo” – the reality hit me and I turned and buried my face in Glen’s side with a gasp of disbelief. With the shock of our new reality.
The photographer probably deleted a blurred shot. But it wasn’t a bad shot. It was a telling moment. It was one of many moments…since then and to come.
Navigating the holidays just brings home this new number in our lives.
Sunday Morning – I’ve said Sundays were going to be difficult. The truth is…I’m never sure which day will be hard.
This Sunday is a bit different. It’s the first day of December. It’s my birthday and Niels is not going to be here to celebrate with me.
I woke up thinking about him. I often wake up and have a short talk with him. Today I found myself “walking” through his Sunday routine with him – at least as much of it as I can surmise.
Sunday was his D&D day – Dungeons and Dragons. I’m sure he slept in late enjoying a day “off”. He eventually would have gathered his D&D kit and made his way to BART to get over to Berkeley where he met his friends. He’d stop at Trader Joe’s for snacks to share (Sophie told me he always brought a stuffed TJ’s bag) and then they’d spend the afternoon creating a new world together. His D&D friends told us about his love of a good battle and his love of collaborating on a story line. They loved the humor, passion and joy he brought to their gatherings. One of the things I’ve collected from his condo is all of his notes where he developed his characters and their world. They were scattered in various notepads and notebooks and I haven’t had the courage to read them yet. They seem so personal to me. I remember when we made our trip to Disneyland a few years ago (for Star Wars), he explained the world he was creating…it was all foreign to me…I tried to understand as he patiently described his characters (that’s not even the right word), plot and how they played the “game” each week. (I don’t think they call it a “game”.)
On Sundays, after his afternoon in Berkeley, he’d make his way to his home or maybe just straight to our house (also his forever home). When he arrived, I’d hear the door open, wait for him to drop his stuff in the dining room and for Dug to go bark at him before he’d come into the kitchen/family room. I can hear and feel all of those sounds so clearly. The expectation of him coming over on Sunday was always a highlight of the week.
After initial greetings, we’d all chit chat about his D&D day and then we’d all settle into our routine – watching some sporting event, sharing about our weeks, Niels often helped me out in the kitchen and then there’d be some serious discussion in which someone got passionate about making some point and…Groundhog Day all over again!
We’d have dinner and I always made a dessert on Sunday. i tried to have a Niels favorite one week and a Blair favorite the next. (Blair’s was always chocolate, Niels’ was always fruit.) Glen would usually head to bed and Niels would hang out a bit longer. Sometimes I went to bed to let Niels and Blair have some time to discuss life together. I loved nothing more than to hear their voices and laughter from the other side of the house.
I didn’t always walk Niels to the door because sometimes when he was ready to leave…he was ready. But I often did and I’d give him a hug and say have a great week or some such nonsense and I usually told him “i love you” and he always replied, “I love you, too”. And I’d watch him walk down the path to the street and head home…ready for his work week…and I’d be thinking about next Sunday – what to have for dinner and dessert, what stories we could tell about our weeks, what plans we could make…
And that was his Sunday. At least as I knew it.
So this morning, December 1st, as I woke up thinking about Niels and about my birthday…I heard the front door open and close. I heard him pile his stuff on the dining room table. I heard Dug barking as he came into the kitchen and I greeted him with a hug and a smile and I asked about D&D, I told him my birthday plans and I said…
I love you. Stay close. Be with me. Sunday. Every day. Always.
Can We? Will We? 