I've reached the moment in my memoir when I am writing about my mom's death, eighteen years ago. Of course, it is impossible to believe it has been that long.
These major moments in my life have been hard to get down on paper. And I mean that literally, as I believe I have mentioned, this book is being written longhand, on index cards, because I don't currently own a computer. I can tell when I get to certain hard events, because all I can manage, emotionally, is to write a few cards' worth of narrative at one sitting, not a handful.
This is what I realized a few hours ago: even if I had done nothing else in sixty-three years -- if I had not earned three post-high school degrees, or contributed in various ways to jobs of all sorts, or pioneered as a woman in the field of English church music, or been a scout as a woman alone, trying to survive largely outside the current construct -- even if I had done none of those things, being a presence for my mom in those last three days of her life would have made my entire time on earth worthwhile. I was simply there, keeping my parents' household going, calling the doctor, calling the nurses, calling my brothers, etc. Holding her, talking with her even once she could no longer speak, trying my darndest just to be there. And I say this, even knowing that if the roles had been reversed, Mom might not have been able to be present in the same way for me. It's OK.
I don't believe we "earn" the right to be here on this planet, which is why I struggle so hard with our cutthroat economic model. The moment we have the courage to be born, we have already earned, if you will, our place here. So I don't see this as a scale, where that long weekend in 2019 tips the worthiness balance somehow. For me, it's about looking back at shining moments or experiences that make you proud, and human, and glad to have been alive. Two others, for me, are my experiences singing choral evensong at King's College, Cambridge and Canterbury Cathedral, and my regular contributions to this blog. And, of course, none of these three most worthwhile events paid me actual money. My whole life sometimes seems to be a reproach to our current system; I've finally (almost!) come to terms with that.
I guess I just write this to say to anyone reading this, if you have been a presence to anyone, in any hard situation (as someone was dying, undergoing health issues, making difficult choices...), your value is off the scale. Your time wasn't money, it was love. And eventually, that will be the only currency.
