I'd learned to impart information, which I'd considered vital to my sons' well being, to each one, individually, for this reason: Whenever I'd spoken to them as a group, I'd watched their minds bend toward invoking group mentality, suggesting a tendency to listen and react as a united front. On the other hand, upon approaching each one separately, I'd observe that the intelligent minds of my beloved sons open more readily to consider insights into life or love that their 'life coach' felt an instinctive need to impart.
As this habit of taking turns, speaking and listening respectfully, one on one, had shaped up when my sons were quite young, a sense of open, honest intimacy had developed between parent and child … and as each spent years practicing five simple tools, which iron out wrinkles that classically arise in families throughout the world, all three grew skilled at resolving conflicts with each other as peaceably as they'd practiced upholding the value of mutual respect with me.
At any rate, while I'm working to recover my ability to speak evenly, Steven's mind has instinctively sensed tension, suggesting unknown danger closing in, and having keyed into my wave length, my intuitive son breaks the silence with: Mom, something's wrong, right?
The fact that I'm angry with myself (because it's not our way to impart this kind of news to our sons on the phone) does not inspire my composure to repair. As another moment of silence passes, Steven's need to know what's wrong intensifies: Mom, are you asking us to dinner, because of something you need to say?
Steven—Dad and I had planned to tell you, together.
(Woman plans and God laughs …)
Mom, you're not going to make me go through the rest of today worrying about what you and Dad plan to tell us, tonight, right? ...
Of course, he's right
As the crack in my composure has let the cat's tail out of the bag
I have no choice but to answer tension in my son's tone with the truth, which he's grown accustomed to receiving from me
Steven—Dad has prostate cancer
And with that, danger leaps from the bag, free to lunge ...
Prostate ... cancer? Oh God ...
Steven's recoiled reaction is followed by moments of silence in which
The Line of Control is practiced on both sides while bad news is absorbed
We'll be over, tonight, Mom
Yes. Okay. I love you, Steven
I love you, too
Steven—please don't say anything to anyone until
Dad says whatever he needs to say
Of course, Mom. I get it. Do Barry and David know?
Not yet. We're flying to the coast, this weekend—
I didn't want to tell you on the phone …
I know that, Mom—it's okay … really ... I understand ... Pause ...
Thanks, Steven ...
Of course ... Pause ...
Taking in unwelcome news of cancer is no easy thing …
No matter how strong one's outer shield proves to be, there
Are times when everyone's sense of courage feels rattled to the core …
Most especially when mortality is the name of the game …
See you later, Mom
See you later, Steven …
Upon placing the cordless landline on the kitchen table, I sit down, heavily, feeling frustrated with myself. Where was my line of control when I'd needed to cloak my fear?
Though that was my first thought, thank goodness, my second thought knows to switch tracks. So, my mind keys into brainstorming: Frustration will not encourage me to do better, next time. So, rather than flogging myself for having emoted emotion, naturally, I need to fortify my sense of courage, consciously.
As this train of thought switches tracks from negatively focused, self flagellation toward positively focused, solution seeking mode, my energy source stands up and while placing the phone in its receiver, insight redirects my mind toward strengthening my sense of courage for this reason: Everyone's strength of spirit has sound reason to flatten, now and then. on the other hand, what is past is past, and attitude is a matter of choice, suggesting that change for the better lies directly ahead …
Though you'll watch me do better with Barry and David, initially, over time, my role of supportive leadership will take an unexpected turn when emotional turbulence spins my little corner of the world upside down, proving, yet again, that God laughs while men and women, regardless of age, plant fantasies inside our naive, little heads … fantasies, suggesting that good things last forever—good things, like fountains of youth showering loved ones with ever-lasting good health—until a stiff shot of reality leaps out of the bag, ties your heart into knots, knocks the breath out of your body and no matter how hard you deny deeper truth, that harsh light of reality penetrates conscious awareness, at last.
It's come to my awareness that we must garner a host of inner strengths, which must be fully baked if one is to accept reality over fantasy of our own making. If it's true that time heals all wounds, then with time, that which is not ours to have and to hold will fade into the past—unless, you, like me, choose to remain addicted to hope. You see, it's hope that recharges my connection to positive focus, which suggests that that which is not ours to have and to hold, today, may, in some magical way, become ours—some day. And as trains of thought like this one inspire my spirit to smile, I've come to place as high a value upon my positively focused imagination as I place a high value upon seeking insight into a host of mystifying complexities, concerning love and life. :)
P.S. I wonder if you can name my energy source?
P.S.S. I gave you lots of really great hints throughout today's post :)
As this habit of taking turns, speaking and listening respectfully, one on one, had shaped up when my sons were quite young, a sense of open, honest intimacy had developed between parent and child … and as each spent years practicing five simple tools, which iron out wrinkles that classically arise in families throughout the world, all three grew skilled at resolving conflicts with each other as peaceably as they'd practiced upholding the value of mutual respect with me.
At any rate, while I'm working to recover my ability to speak evenly, Steven's mind has instinctively sensed tension, suggesting unknown danger closing in, and having keyed into my wave length, my intuitive son breaks the silence with: Mom, something's wrong, right?
The fact that I'm angry with myself (because it's not our way to impart this kind of news to our sons on the phone) does not inspire my composure to repair. As another moment of silence passes, Steven's need to know what's wrong intensifies: Mom, are you asking us to dinner, because of something you need to say?
Steven—Dad and I had planned to tell you, together.
(Woman plans and God laughs …)
Mom, you're not going to make me go through the rest of today worrying about what you and Dad plan to tell us, tonight, right? ...
Of course, he's right
As the crack in my composure has let the cat's tail out of the bag
I have no choice but to answer tension in my son's tone with the truth, which he's grown accustomed to receiving from me
Steven—Dad has prostate cancer
And with that, danger leaps from the bag, free to lunge ...
Prostate ... cancer? Oh God ...
Steven's recoiled reaction is followed by moments of silence in which
The Line of Control is practiced on both sides while bad news is absorbed
We'll be over, tonight, Mom
Yes. Okay. I love you, Steven
I love you, too
Steven—please don't say anything to anyone until
Dad says whatever he needs to say
Of course, Mom. I get it. Do Barry and David know?
Not yet. We're flying to the coast, this weekend—
I didn't want to tell you on the phone …
I know that, Mom—it's okay … really ... I understand ... Pause ...
Thanks, Steven ...
Of course ... Pause ...
Taking in unwelcome news of cancer is no easy thing …
No matter how strong one's outer shield proves to be, there
Are times when everyone's sense of courage feels rattled to the core …
Most especially when mortality is the name of the game …
See you later, Mom
See you later, Steven …
Upon placing the cordless landline on the kitchen table, I sit down, heavily, feeling frustrated with myself. Where was my line of control when I'd needed to cloak my fear?
Though that was my first thought, thank goodness, my second thought knows to switch tracks. So, my mind keys into brainstorming: Frustration will not encourage me to do better, next time. So, rather than flogging myself for having emoted emotion, naturally, I need to fortify my sense of courage, consciously.
As this train of thought switches tracks from negatively focused, self flagellation toward positively focused, solution seeking mode, my energy source stands up and while placing the phone in its receiver, insight redirects my mind toward strengthening my sense of courage for this reason: Everyone's strength of spirit has sound reason to flatten, now and then. on the other hand, what is past is past, and attitude is a matter of choice, suggesting that change for the better lies directly ahead …
Though you'll watch me do better with Barry and David, initially, over time, my role of supportive leadership will take an unexpected turn when emotional turbulence spins my little corner of the world upside down, proving, yet again, that God laughs while men and women, regardless of age, plant fantasies inside our naive, little heads … fantasies, suggesting that good things last forever—good things, like fountains of youth showering loved ones with ever-lasting good health—until a stiff shot of reality leaps out of the bag, ties your heart into knots, knocks the breath out of your body and no matter how hard you deny deeper truth, that harsh light of reality penetrates conscious awareness, at last.
It's come to my awareness that we must garner a host of inner strengths, which must be fully baked if one is to accept reality over fantasy of our own making. If it's true that time heals all wounds, then with time, that which is not ours to have and to hold will fade into the past—unless, you, like me, choose to remain addicted to hope. You see, it's hope that recharges my connection to positive focus, which suggests that that which is not ours to have and to hold, today, may, in some magical way, become ours—some day. And as trains of thought like this one inspire my spirit to smile, I've come to place as high a value upon my positively focused imagination as I place a high value upon seeking insight into a host of mystifying complexities, concerning love and life. :)
P.S. I wonder if you can name my energy source?
P.S.S. I gave you lots of really great hints throughout today's post :)
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