Dreams

By

“Hold fast to dreams, for if the dreams die life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” –Langston Hughes

Last August I wrote a post about a dear friend of my mother who at the age of 97 packed up her home in Queens, New York, to move to an assisted living facility in Pennsylvania to be closer to her son and his family. Out of all the posts I have done through the years I received the most feedback for this, so I decided to do an update on this inspirational woman.

Upon arriving at her new home she was upbeat and enthusiastic, unpacking her boxes and fitting everything into her two rooms. We spoke often and I loved hearing about how she enjoyed the fresh air and being out in the country, how the staff was helpful and kind, and while it was not home she was appreciative of all the care she was receiving.

During the winter months I sensed her tone was beginning to change; she was beginning to sound more irritable. The newness had worn off and she was telling me how she did not think despite being now 98 it was healthy to be surrounded by only those her own age.  She explained that in less than a year three of the friends she made had died. 

One day I dialed her number and the sad hello and response — “I am not doing well” — tore at my heart.  In a tone I had never heard her use, she sadly told me her son had terminal cancer and all they could do was make him comfortable. I could hear this tough woman holding back her tears, saying she did not know how she was going to be able to find the strength to bury another son; she had lost her firstborn ten years ago. 

“I’ll have to speak to you another day,” she said. I told her I was thinking of her and that I would keep her and her family constantly in my prayers.

Despite her broken wings, she ended that conversation with, “Live your life, Donna. Ignore your troubles and fly while you are able to, as life changes very suddenly.”

We never say good-bye when we end our conversations, and this one ended like all the others with the German Auf Wiedersehen (until we meet again).

I hung up and sat thinking of this wise woman and a conversation I had with her in February. I’d found out that my niece in Atlanta was graduating college, and I had not been down there in a few years.  I so wanted to attend. But my husband couldn’t get vacation and there was no way I could fly alone.

In her stern, strong voice she asked me why on earth I was putting this off.  She was definitely not coddling my inner child.  She told me to stop it; I was certainly not going to be traveling alone, because there would be 200 other people on board. And if my date to die is May 9th it won’t matter if I am on the ground or in the sky. 

That Sunday night after ending that conversation, I booked the flight, my heart pounding.

On May 9th I sat in terminal D1 of LaGuardia Airport and was overwhelmed with emotion that I was flying alone. I heard her voice and actually laughed as I remembered her saying there would be hundreds of people on the plane. She was correct. I was doing something independently for the first time, but I was not traveling alone.

The trip was fantastic. The graduation was beautiful; I cheered at Little League games of my great-niece and nephew and enjoyed wonderful dinners with my grown nieces, nephew and their spouses.  I loved shopping, walking, and talking with my sister. I’m laughing as I remember how we looked like Lucy and Ethel trying to hang a curtain rod, determined we could do it. Despite a few holes in the wall we did.  The curtain covered it up and now it was our secret. I absolutely loved every second of being with all of them.

After I got home, I dialed my friend’s number, and while there wasn’t any change in her son’s condition, she was happy to hear from me. We talked for 90 minutes. She said she’d had a nice chat with her doctor the day before and he encouraged her to keep her faith and to try and remain strong.  She said she had gone out to play bingo again and was able to get out more now that the weather is warmer.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “Create the good old days while you’re able. Before you know it you wind up in a place like this and you sure will be glad you flew while you could.  Those are the memories that will get you through your final chapters.  Stop dreaming; as you accomplish one thing, start on the next.”

At the end of the call we both had a good laugh as I accidentally said good-bye.  “No goodbye!” she yelled. “Auf Wiedersehen.  I will talk to you next week!  And you better tell me about a new adventure!” 

When I hung up the phone, I whispered, “Thank you for being the wind beneath my wings.”

 In my heart I always knew I had the ability to fly alone, but the comfort of holding onto my dreams, rather than going for them, kept me feeling safe in my nest. I needed the push, and once I made the choice of finally listening it opened up the door of confidence for me.

I am not sure what adventures are to come as I tap the keys this morning, but a dream definitely came true for me taking that flight.

I will not say goodbye as I hit “send.”  To quote my wise friend, Auf Wiedersehen!

Donna Vesel Ryan, a frequent blogger for ThirdAge, is the founder and editor of the blog www.50plusstickingtogether.com. Click here to read more of her work.