Rest in peace, Anne

No picture with this posting, likely the last of the year. There is no picture that can encompass the enormity of this year's losses, or the trepidation with which we face the coming year, which is likely to prove just as difficult if not more so.

My own personal security is viewed with less contentment when considering the insecurities of the world, filtering down into the lives of family and friends. Life is never static, and it is also finite. We have a limited amount of time with one another, and to accomplish our goals. Come what may, we'd damn well better soldier on AND remember to stop and smell the daisies.

Miach's mother, Anne, died suddenly yesterday evening in Florida. She had been complaining since Thanksgiving of feeling short of breath, and of having no energy. She was diagnosed with asthma and given some inhalers, but Miach felt that it was something more serious going on. Frankly, I did, too. There is nothing more stressful than a death in a family during the Holidays, especially a family like Miach's, that typically hosts several out-of-town guests (including, this year, one getting treated for cancer). Yesterday was one of the worst days I can remember, and all I did was pay for an unbelievably expensive airline ticket and offer some emotional support to a guilt-ridden and shocked Miach. Because for years, I've been enabling him to avoid doing what he knows is his lot in life: being the next grown-up. His parents worked hard all their lives to provide for their kids, and they were successful to a large degree. They were immigrants, but had both gotten higher education, and they believed strongly in the value of an education. Both their sons went to college. Miach went as far as you can go in college and got a doctorate. Their daughter followed in Anne's footsteps and became a nurse, and also presented them with a much adored grandson. And then something happened, and for each child it was a different "something". My own theory, based on my personal experience, is that for a certain personality type (of which I must be an example) so long as your parents are alive, you don't feel like an adult. Not really. Because you know that if worse comes to worst, your parents will take care of you. When my mom died over 25 years ago, I looked around me and suddenly realized that I was now the adult and 4 little kids were depending on me, and I could no longer afford to waste time.
My feelings in this matter are conflicted. I have roots and family here in California that I don't want to leave. Miach's epiphany would probably involve trying to get into a medical residency program close to his Dad, in Florida or at least along the Eastern seaboard. Having lost Anne so suddenly, he is now very anxious about Arnold. Arnold, aside from being older, also has prior cardiac problems. For years, Miach has announced that he only has another few months and then he has to 'get back to work". And I've made it as easy as I could for him to not do that, and there was certainly no financial imperative. And the longer you wait, the harder it is to explain that gap in career, not to mention that you're competing for openings with much younger people.
But now, with Anne gone, too much of a burden is falling on Arnold, and one of these grown children is going to have to step up. It really is long past time.
I will always remember Anne coming home from a 12 hour shift at the nursing home, and then cooking or cleaning for another 2 hours, until she finally sank exhausted onto the couch and promptly fell asleep. Night after night during the two holiday vacations that we took to New York, this was her pattern. Arnold worked an earlier shift, 6 days a week. Meanwhile, the rest of us shopped, or went to the movies or a Broadway show, or played video games. Anne's one vice was the casinos in Atlantic City, and this unfortunately also contributed to how hard she and Arnold had to work in order to retire. She told Miach once that she intended not to leave any money behind when she left this world, and she nearly accomplished it.
Now she can at last rest.