Opening to Life During a Pandemic

I call my 92-year-old mother on a Saturday afternoon to check in on her during these gray days of January in the middle of a pandemic. 

“Hello!” she answers, shouting into the phone. I pull the phone away from my ear.

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine. And how are you?!”

We talk about phone calls, the latest news on her day, her good friends and neighbors in her retirement community.

“Mom, do you have any fear?” I ask.

“No, I don’t.” she replies

“Are you afraid of getting this virus?”

“Well, I am being safe. So no, I don’t think about it much.” Her voice sounds calm and matter of fact.

Throughout the last 11 months, even though she’s living alone and isolated, my mom has continually had a chipper tone in her voice. She seems grounded and unfazed by fear amidst the rising Covid-19 death count, though, the political scene has caused her to pause and sigh as she listens to CNN, which is blasting in the background.

I’m curious to hear her latest reflections and insights on life and death, given the many previous conversations we’ve had on the subject. (Since I was young, I’ve been the one in our family who’s asked the deep, in-depth questions about life, death, and why we are here). I open the door again.

“You know, Mom, at your age you could go anytime. All bets are off. Do you think about this? Are you having any unrest?”

“I don’t have fear. I miss seeing everyone and look forward to life changing. But I’m okay.”

I don’t feel a thread of fear or unrest in her voice. A ping of aha goes through me. Another lens opens in my being. My mom is showing me what it looks like to be open, express gratitude, and accept just what is.

This is the mother who, when I was eleven, slept with me every week and held my head until the middle hour of the night when I went through chemotherapy for 18 months. She never left my side. Her positivity shined through back then when she’d say, “You are going to be okay.” Her voice and words didn’t waver over the years I lived in and out of the hospital.

Prayer and her faith in God sustain her. She awakens with prayers of thankfulness. She talks with God during the day. And at night she reads her devotional book and goes to sleep praying.

In fact, when I really need extra help, for myself or a close friend, I call my mom and request prayers. I always say, “You have the direct connection to God.” She laughs. She’s even been known to write out a friend’s prayer request on a sticky note so she can remember it.

Even though she lost her son, my 46-year-old brother, Jim, 12 years ago, and her husband, my dad, 15 years ago, she’s continued to open to life. At her age, she’s lost many close dear friends and extended family members, and yet she’s continued to live fully.

With a warm, big smile and energy in her step, she opens to each new day with an eagerness to connect with those around her. When she meets one of my friends, her first impulse is to hug them. She never misses a child’s, grandchild’s, or close friend’s birthday, making sure to call them and send flowers.

“You are inspiring, Mom. Okay, I’ve got to run.” I say.

“Good to talk with you. Thank you for calling me. I’m getting back on the treadmill to finish walking.”

My mom teaches me what it looks like to live life fully one day at a time, even on those days that are heavy and full of grief. And she’s an example of someone choosing to embrace and embody love and trust every day, even in a pandemic.

As I finish writing this blog, my mother got her first Covid vaccine. All went well.