An Act of Generosity

Today as I was leaving Kaiser Permanente Medical Center to get to my parked car, there was a fair amount of coming and going just before lunch.  I came up to a main cross walk at the same time as another woman who was moving slowly using a cane.  

I started across with her and laughingly said to her, “I’ll take this side, the direction the cars are coming from, so they’ll take me out before they get to you.”

She laughed and said, “Thank you. It’s very unusual for someone to be willing to give their life for a someone they don’t know.”

We neared the other side.  “Yes, well, it’s a calculated risk in making an act of generosity I’m unlikely to be taken up on.”  I chuckled.  “Have a good afternoon.”

“You too.”

I pondered that small exchange for several minutes. In my response, should I have taken credit for being brave hearted?  I couldn’t do that.  It was a humorous offer that nothing was likely to come of.  And if I died by being hit by a car before her, I would die with a generous, loving spirit.  

That’s the thing.  Death will come for me.  Better it should find me with a kind and open soul.  Since I don’t know the actual date with Death, it’s strategic to walk around in a loving state of mind.  It’s a calculated risk that is likely to pay off one day.  I just won’t be around to report on how it goes.

——

I wrote these words at midnight, reflecting on my day out in the world. After finishing, I noticed the light from a nearly full moon and stepped outside to look at it and the lake. My 84 year old neighbor, Penny, has been at the end stage of life with cancer for two months. Her sons have been taking care of her alone at times without help due to COVID. 

Ronnie and I have been doing our own vigil. In her living room, her bed is only a few short feet from us. She had grown so weak. We knew the end was near. On our deck, I walked over to Penny’s side at her window sending her waves of love. I told her it is okay to go and said my only Hebrew prayer before getting ready for bed. I don’t understand Hebrew. All I know is I’m saying a prayer.  

Her son texted us at 7:15 this morning saying she had passed at 3 a.m. It was time. Her body could no longer sustain her life force. Laying in bed, I shared the text with Ronnie. I didn’t cry. I’ve already cried many times at losing Penny.  She reminded me of my Granny.  A woman who’d survived tough times, presented an inflexible countenance, but radiated love for those she cared for.  Many times, she said how happy she was to finally have neighbors she was close to.  Ronnie and I are lucky enough to be two of those neighbors and enjoy her fierce presence.  I can’t make those I love never pass away.  I can only enjoy them in my life and hold them close when their bodies fail.  Rest In Peace, Penny.

Reporting from Life’s Front.

Joceile  

1.19.22

[Picture of a clouded night moon reflected on the lake.]