Monday, June 23, 2014

The New Normal


A fellow Freecycler called tonight, asking for a better description of the item I had listed. 

“It’s white, sports-style, size medium," I told her. "I bought it for my mother, but she passed away before ever wearing it.” I paused, knowing there would be an appropriate expression of sympathy.

I’m getting used to those expressions. But I’ll confess that in the aftermath of my mother’s illness and death, I find myself slightly adrift. So much of my life until now has been spent responding, in some way, to my mother. 
 
As a teenager, I embarrassed Mom with my choice of music or topic of conversation. She embarrassed me by having my latest ex-crush over for a sympathetic ear and fresh cookies. 

We clashed over her expectations for me and of me. While at boarding school, I knew which topics to avoid in our weekly radio visits. I also knew what I could get away with - like turning up at my parents’ house unannounced with 17 overnight guests in tow. 

This was our brand of normal.

Then, in the summer before my senior year of high school, the world changed. Dad was in Africa on mission business. I was in boarding school. Mom called. Her doctor had just diagnosed her with breast cancer. I left school that same afternoon, travelled the three hours by bus to my parents’ town and spent the weekend caring for my mother. The cancer created a different (but no less complicated), normal. 

Over the decades, we continued to adapt - as families are wont to do. Then just last month, not quite a year after Dad died, Mom passed away. As my siblings and I sorted through her things in Indiana, as I removed the last bits and pieces of her life from the apartment, I noticed an odd vacancy. 

“Normal” had disappeared.

This was uncharted territory. After 53 years of adapting, I was at the top of the pyramid. I was The Grown-Up. This did not feel normal. Despite my theoretical knowledge that this would occur, it was still unexpected.

I mulled this change on my drive home. I was still pondering when I unpacked my bags and found something else unexpected.

It seemed I had accidentally brought home one of the brand-new post-mastectomy bras that I’d bought for Mom when she was in the hospital. It was still in the package. I put it aside and listed it last night on Freecycle.

Ergo, the call from my fellow Freecyler.

Only now, a split second after murmuring her condolences, this stranger on the phone was doing a major double-take. “Size medium?” she asked, confused. “Never before worn?”

Unsure of what the problem was, I answered, “Yes, a size medium, brand-new post-mastectomy bra” - which is about when she started laughing. Between giggles, she explained that she had intended to answer a different post. The one offering a small rack…

The accidental double entendre caught me off guard. I burst out laughing as well. As we giggled on the phone like a pair of teenagers, I was struck by an oddly comforting thought.

I will find my new Normal. And I will never finish growing up. 

 

 


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