Weep

I find myself crying an awful lot these days. I’ve always been somewhat sensitive: romance films, greeting cards, and so on, but the real crying happens when I encounter something that either causes strong elation, or just troubles me deeply.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I spent it with my family: my father, mother, brother, sister-in-law, and my niece and nephew. I love them all, so it’s nice when my brother and his family come over to have Thanksgiving dinner with us.
Still, that’s not the crying part, I’m getting to it.
Two things really caused me to pause yesterday. The first was when I served the dinner itself. I had worked all day and the night before preparing the turkey, potato salad, rolls, banana pudding, all the things my family loved to eat. I setup the tables and chairs, cleaned the house as well as I could, and prepared everything, including having “White Christmas” playing on the television.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and so was I. As I glanced over at mom in her hospital bed (we keep it in the living room so she can get plenty of light, have people around her, and so she can watch TV), I couldn’t help but notice that my mom was eating a little slower than usual. After the stroke she had over a year ago, some things changed, which is to be expected. That she survived is the most important part. Still, as I watched her eat, I saw that her hands were shaking. They’ve been doing that more and more since the stroke, and sometimes it’s very difficult for her to eat.
Even thinking about it now makes me tear up. My poor, sweet mom. Stubborn as a mule, but as frail as the rarest china. I just want to scoop her up in my arms and tell her everything will be okay. I still hold out hope that things will improve. I do it for her.
So that’s one.
The second incident was a few minutes later, when I put together a dinner plate for our next door neighbor. She’s an older woman who has to get around in a wheel chair because she lost her leg many years ago, and is on assisted income, like many of the folks around here. She lives alone, and usually has her daughter or son-in-law stop by to help her out from day to day. We’re all good neighbors, and we look out for each other. I figured a quick visit might be nice.
Anyway, so I headed on over with a plate stacked with turkey, and all the good tasty things we were having for dinner, and I knocked on her door. When she opened the door, I could smell buttered popcorn in the air. I said hello to her and wished her a happy thanksgiving. She replied, “Hey! Yeah, I was just sitting down to dinner.” I saw behind her and on her coffee table was a tiny bag of microwave popcorn. I looked back at her and said “well, we’re having thanksgiving dinner, and I wondered if you’d like to try some of what I’ve been cooking.” At which point I offered her the loaded down plate. She took it happily and said “thank you! I haven’t really eaten anything today, no one stopped by to bring me anything.”
My smile nearly faltered. I had to hold it together as I said “well, I hope you like my cooking!” She laughed and said “Ooh my, it smells really good.” I told her to enjoy it, and I saw a huge grin on her face as she closed the door. I walked back to our house, trying to keep from sobbing. I was so heartbroken for her, and so mad with her daughter and son-in-law, because we were eating dinner at around 8 PM, which means she had gone all day without a proper meal.
Once I got back, everyone was talking and laughing, but all I could think about was seeing her in my mind’s eye, savoring her first real meal of the day.
I have been crying ever since. Those of you who know me know how I get when I find out someone is going hungry. Other issues get at me, but hunger, especially when a child or elder goes hungry, just cuts me to the core. We have to be better. We have to be better. I’m doing what I can, but it just doesn’t feel like enough.
I’m taking a page from a friend of mine, who suggested I take up knitting, where I can knit hats and scarves and give them away. I love the idea, and I’m getting a book on the basics of knitting. I may stab myself repeatedly, but I can’t pass up the chance to give something meaningful to others. Warm wishes are nice, warm mittens are better.
So please take a moment today, and every day, to consider those in need. Try to remember the forgotten ones, and love every person. Please. There is not enough love in this world, we need more. Always more.
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, and that word will never be casually stated, or meaningless for me. I love you.