It Could be Any Day Now

Lives cross paths, intersect sometimes, in oddly impactful ways. I live in a “community” where I’m riding in the only car leaving each morning for work because my neighbors—virtually all retirees have either gone to Florida, are still sleeping, are logging onto skype or dialing via facetime to connect with their grandkids, or are stretching to ready their bodies for the daily exercise their minds instruct must be completed. So, our paths don’t often cross, my neighbors and mine. And I don’t mind. It’s quiet. I’m tired at the beginning of the day, at the end of the day. This cone of retirement silence works for me. Then there are those times when our paths do cross… and lessons are learned.

On the way rushing out one morning years ago, the elevator unexpectedly stopped on the second floor. My daughter and I had boarded on the third—she in jeans, a half closed winter coat, striped backpack in tow, all while making sure no text message alerts were missed between the time we closed our front door and opened the car door. Me—in a brown gold speckled suit with a uncharacteristically ruffled silk cream blouse supporting a long dangling gold chain with alternating sized symmetrical balls. She observed us closely as she entered. Standing in the back of the elevator staring first at our shoes, then shins, her eyes slowly make their way up our bodies. “Hello” was the greeting she used for my daughter. For me, “Well, don’t you look like you just got out of bed”… Not really the morning greeting I anticipated but I accepted the backhanded compliment.

Daisy was on the second floor when the doors opened. “Mrs…. Mrs…there you are…. Daisy guided the old woman’s robed silhouette slowly from the elevator as the Mrs. slowly shuffled past us. “I’m sorry….the Mrs….she gets confused.” The door closed. “That’s what you get for living in a retirement place” Sophie said….

Over the next few years, I learned Daisy was from the Philippines and was Mrs.’ caregiver. Eventually wheels of a chair Daisy pushed replaced the Mrs.’ shuffles. I would catch glimpses of them here and there, but not to talk for any length and if at all, only to Daisy. Daisy sent money, clothes, and other goods back to her relatives in the Philippines. She asked for any used clothing my daughter or I might not need anymore. From time to time I would drop bags of clothes, shoes, kitchen and bath items in front of the Mrs.’ door.

About a month ago, Daisy and the Mrs. were in the elevator. “How is she?” I asked. Daisy looked at the Mrs., whose head had fallen forward, her gaze focused on her lap. “She’s good. It could be any day now…” The Mrs. raised her head, her eyes following the route her head directed, her blue eyes shrouded in clouds eventually focusing on mine. She knew I knew.

My mind continues to replay that one moment in time. Maybe it’s the way Daisy announced “It could be any day now” almost the way people talk about waiting for the arrival of a new baby….we’ve been waiting, we’ve been preparing for the baby’s arrival, we’re excited…yes, it could be any day now…And so I’ve thought about that. How birth and death are the same in many ways. That death leads to birth. And birth ultimately to death. How many small deaths, births, and rebirths do we experience in a lifetime? And then the overarching birth, death and rebirth of this single life. Maybe it’s because of how the Mrs. looked at me. She looked at me through a veil, the veil of death; but the Mrs. was still a part of this life. And she was very aware of that. Her eyes clearly told me so when her mouth could not. It reminded me of speaking to one of my mentors for the last time….”How are you?” “Pat, life is like a veil”. Perhaps a reference to the poem by Shelley Percy,

Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live:

Lift not the painted veil which those who live

Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,

And it but mimic all we would believe

With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear

And Hope, twin Destinies; whoever weave

Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.

I knew one who had lifted it—he sought,

For his lost heart was tender, things to love,

But found them not, alas! nor was there aught

The world contains, the which he could approve.

Through the unheeding many he did move,

A splendour among shadows, a bright blot

Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove

For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

Last week, a dark long car blocked the condo building’s entrance. Checking mail, fumbling with my phone, two men in black suits rolling a gurney came into view. It could be any day now…some are aware….some are not. That’s what I get for living in a retirement place. Appreciative for every moment.

Patricia Nemeth received her Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Michigan (Ann Arbor). She earned her Juris Doctorate and Masters of Labor Law degree from Wayne State University School of Law. She is the founding partner of Nemeth Law, P.C. which is celebrating its 25th Anniversary in 2017. Patricia decided to start a personal blog because she wanted to write about topics other than the law.