One of the moms here is pretty sick, and undergoing heavy treatments. I always liked her, because she helped out at the school a lot, and she has two very nice daughters. I didn’t know what to think when I heard how serious her illness was. I just felt scared, and sad, thinking about how she must feel, about how she might be leaving her daughters soon. I have been watching her quietly, secretly, wanting to help somehow, make her feel okay. We aren’t really friends, though, so any overt offers might seem to be out of kilter, or all about the cancer. I don’t want it to be all about the cancer; I am interested in her and how she is getting along, all of which was triggered by the illness, but —<\/p>\n
So today I saw her on the bench by the main staircase at pick-up, and I smiled at her and sat down. We talked about the Baby Bellies, which her daughter had tried out. The girls in that grade are having trouble with meanness, and I certainly have noticed this in that group. So her daughter did not really enjoy the class yesterday. I was not surprised to hear that.<\/p>\n
I was feeling good talking to her and so I then asked straight out but warmly, “So, how are you doing with everything?” And she knew what I meant. Her face changed for a second, a flicker of something, and then she settled back into her usual warmth and smiles and said, “Okay, just want to get through this part, you know, have it be over.”<\/p>\n
I knew. At least, I knew what I could know about this. Then she said, “I mean, what else can I do? Crawl away somewhere and not<\/span> do anything about it?”<\/p>\n Then I understood. People were often implying that she was strong and somehow doing the right thing by having her treatments, when to her it looked like the only thing she could <\/span>do. This is the way I feel about Nat. I am not brave, or a great mother, or special, or anything different from anybody else. I told her this, and it felt good that we both had pain to bear that was uniquely our own and yet which we could understand in the other. I do what I have to do. There is no choice. I take care of him. End of story. And I hate it when people ascribe greater strength or ability on my part. It just is. Mother, child.<\/p>\n And for this woman, her work to get well simply was. It was what she had to do. She said, “I was hoping today I could get my girls to just come and have some ice cream with me.”<\/p>\n It was such a hot and sunny day and that image just lifted me right up. I felt envious of her, that she lets herself just eat ice cream and that she has girls to do it with. “Ooh, that sounds good,” I said, and I’m sure I did not convey all that I felt.<\/p>\n