Yesterday, my mom,
my sister, Isaac and I went for a long hike in West Vancouver. I carried Isaac
on my back, all 28 pounds of him, for the two and a half hour hike. It was challenging
for sure, but lots of fun and incredibly beautiful walking through the forest
and along a rushing creek. Along the way, we ran into another couple who
commented on how difficult it must be to hike with Isaac on my back. I told
them that I joke with Isaac that I’m carrying him now, but that when I’m old,
he’ll carry me.
Later, I was thinking about this and realized that although I joke, there is truth to this statement. If you’re lucky in life, which I believe I am, you’ll be fortunate enough to have a family that will carry you through difficult times. I work in a hospital and have the privilege of working with patients and families, seeing love and sacrifice in times of crisis. In times of pain and loss, I see the strength of the bond between spouses, parents and children, and siblings. I see elderly women and men coming into visit their spouses daily, bringing food and comfort. After fifty, sixty years of marriage, the thought of being apart must seem so foreign. In some cases, the patient doesn’t recognize their family members, but this often makes no difference to those coming to visit. They continue to support, love, provide comfort, and in a figurative sense, carry their family member, regardless of whether that individual will ever know the full extent of their efforts. Unfortunately, I’ve also seen patients who are alone in the world. Who have no one to come and visit them. Sometimes, they are estranged from family or have no family left. These situations sadden me and remind me that I am so fortunate to have the family that I do.
In my own life, I have been lucky enough to have a family that has supported me in countless ways. Most recently through the difficulties of infertility and then the roller coaster of adoption. They listened to me, drank decaf with me, cried with me, wiped my tears, cheered me up, celebrated the successes and mourned the losses. In a stormy sea of pain, loss, and frustration, they were my life raft and helped carry me to calmer waters. This is part of what family means to me. Family is there to have your back, to support you, to love you. To carry you.
Later, I was thinking about this and realized that although I joke, there is truth to this statement. If you’re lucky in life, which I believe I am, you’ll be fortunate enough to have a family that will carry you through difficult times. I work in a hospital and have the privilege of working with patients and families, seeing love and sacrifice in times of crisis. In times of pain and loss, I see the strength of the bond between spouses, parents and children, and siblings. I see elderly women and men coming into visit their spouses daily, bringing food and comfort. After fifty, sixty years of marriage, the thought of being apart must seem so foreign. In some cases, the patient doesn’t recognize their family members, but this often makes no difference to those coming to visit. They continue to support, love, provide comfort, and in a figurative sense, carry their family member, regardless of whether that individual will ever know the full extent of their efforts. Unfortunately, I’ve also seen patients who are alone in the world. Who have no one to come and visit them. Sometimes, they are estranged from family or have no family left. These situations sadden me and remind me that I am so fortunate to have the family that I do.
In my own life, I have been lucky enough to have a family that has supported me in countless ways. Most recently through the difficulties of infertility and then the roller coaster of adoption. They listened to me, drank decaf with me, cried with me, wiped my tears, cheered me up, celebrated the successes and mourned the losses. In a stormy sea of pain, loss, and frustration, they were my life raft and helped carry me to calmer waters. This is part of what family means to me. Family is there to have your back, to support you, to love you. To carry you.
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| It's tiring riding in the backpack. I look a bit weary too. |
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| Family |
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