Woke up this morning thinking of an old friend.
Marie Claire was born in Paris shortly after WWII. She and
her mother lived in abject poverty. She never knew her father. Marie Claire's
mother told her many times that she had not wanted her, had tried
unsuccessfully to abort her. In some ways this knowledge haunted Marie Claire
and shaped a great deal of her life.
Marie Claire and I were born on the same day, a decade
apart. At the age I am now, she died of cancer. When I went to see her in the
hospital she told me, “Here I am having to go through this alone as I have done
with everything.”
I didn’t know what to say. In fact, Marie Claire had a
loving husband she’d been with for decades- a chef who ran his own restaurant
and brought her tasty meals daily during her stay in the hospital- and two
grown daughters who came to see her regularly while caring for young children
themselves. And I was there.
But the truth was, Marie Claire always felt as if she was
scrambling to survive, was unsupported and on her own. That’s the experience
she lived. When I’d gently point out that the reality of her life did not match
this assumption she would cringe and agree, but I knew it changed nothing.
And it wasn’t only that Marie Claire was unable to receive
from those around her. She also could not give to herself. She had a small
successful skin-care business and dreamed of creating a healing spa for women,
a place where spirit was tended even as the body was pampered. She told me once
that she had the money to fulfil her dream, but she couldn’t do it- was afraid
to spend the money, sure that it was too late or too early or not the right
economic climate or the right place. . . . Honestly, I don’t think she ever
really considered acting on her vision. In her own mind, she was still the
unwanted daughter, the girl living on the street, barely surviving.
I remember once sitting with Marie Claire and feeling my own
frustration at her inability to receive and enjoy the life she now had. I
wanted to tell her to “let the past go,” to “move on.” I didn’t- because I knew
these words don’t free someone from the past and can stir deep shame- and that
never helps.
And, I knew something else: where we want to say, “Move past
this!” to another, we are speaking from our inability to be with the other
where they are. (And yes, sometimes we may need to take a break so we don’t
start saying unhelpful things.)
And. . . . where we are feeling judgemental and frustrated
about another’s failure to “move on,” we may well be feeling stuck ourselves,
identified with or limited by something that has happened in our past and
frustrated by our own inability to “let it go.”
We are wanting someone else to do something that we have not
found a way to do.
Maybe we want them to show us it can be done.
So, as I woke up this morning filled with memories about
Marie Claire I wondered: Where am I feeling caught in the past? Where am I
missing the opportunity to lay down a burden and walk on with more freedom?
Where am I refusing healing, afraid to be free, not allowing myself to receive
fully what is offered to me now?
And I offer a prayer for my old friend, grateful for what is
stirred by remembering her, wishing her spirit deep peace and freedom.
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