Think8 Women

Life is fluid.

It ebbs and flows.

Every time I ridge against change, trying to cling to something precious, keep whatever it is the way it is, right now, I have to remind myself that change is the constant.

Change is an ocean. It bucks, slides, heaves and yawns, but it is never the same.

Constantly changing.

Fall, fifteen years ago, I stumbled into Deluth St. in the heart of Montreal’s Plateau. A cobbled street whose turn-of-the-century buildings have been repainted so many times the wood trim is thick. It charmed me.

Back then Tami’s nail salon was a thin space with a tiny back room boasting a single pedicure chair.

French was easier for her than English, but since I spoke neither French nor Vietnamese, we mostly grinned at each other. Her dark eyes and shy smile radiated loved.

Funny how you can know in an instant the heart of another, and how true knowingness never lets you down.

Her love never waivered. Nor did mine.

Tami looked like a girl in her late teens but she was already a mother of two sons. We laughed each time she carried another child, hoping this one would be a girl. Three sons later, we laughed even harder.

It’s unusual for Mark and I to be apart for long, but the day I got my PET scan results back saying there were tumors in my neck and lung, I needed comfort. I needed things to be the same as they had been the minute before.

I needed things not to change.

Mark changed plans to fly back immediately.

But it was to Deluth Street that I drove that day – to Tami and Binky. Binky, who created the Flower Grocery across the street, hugged me hard and long and made me tea.

Tami’s eyes spilled tears as she filed my nails while I called my three sons to tell them. A manicure was the most calming, changeless thing I could think of to do at that moment.

Two years later it was Tami who told me that she had breast cancer. We cried together.

The ocean of life never stays the same, even when it looks like the same blue water and same endless sky.

It changes. Constantly. It is, after all, an ocean.

Violent storms. Lightening. Wave after wave pounding you senseless at times.

So it is clearly not the ocean that determines our voyage. It is our ability to navigate our ship.

It is our skill and instincts. Our willingness to risk. Our courage to aim our bow directly into the heart of each punishing wave, hoping not to roll under.

Tami navigated storm after storm with quiet calm and determinism. She held her family tightly in one arm as she wrenched the ship’s wheel this way and that way.

In the hospital before Christmas she smiled, “I am the luckiest person in the whole world.” Why, I asked, knowing at this point her cancer was aggressive. “ Because I am loved.”

Change happens despite you.

Binky sold her shop and is thrilled to star a new chapter in Spain. Her old Flower Grocery store, across from Tami’s, is now boarded up for renovations.

Yesterday was Tami’s funeral.

We tried to hold onto her. But we couldn’t.

I have railed against this change. Unfair. Unjust. Just plain wrong.

But I have to let go.

There are no words for this emptiness.

Hold those close to you today. You both know things will change, but you have now, here, and to know you are loved is enough.

 

Nancy