January 13, 2015--My Mother-In-Law

Today is the sixth anniversary of her death. Here is what I wrote about her at the time--

I’m not inclined, nor was Adele, to get religious or biblical at these ultimate times; but her life, especially the last three decades, presented a challenge to all of us who loved her to understand the meaning of all that befell her.

How could such a truly good person have so many punishing things happen to her? Rona and I, and all who loved her, spent many days trying to understand. To make some sense of it. To make sense of what seemed so senseless.

We looked for examples of equivalent unfairness to help us understand. Compared with Adele, those that we remembered from our own experience were sudden reversals of fortune or where the suffering was of relatively short duration. And so from these examples we were able to learn very little that was helpful.

But one day, while walking on the beach, which is a good place to think about daunting things, Rona suggested that the only equivalent she could think of was the relentless suffering of Job. That her mother’s life had tragically become like his—an endless series of afflictions and sufferings that took away more and more of her life.

With this insight, as her family and friends and caretakers struggled to help her endure and bring her some measure of comfort, we also have been trying, again as from Job, to find, if there are any significant meanings.

All three religions of the Book—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—also have struggled to understand Job’s plight, asking, in their own ways, how the same God they all believe in, who is supposed to be benevolent to those he created in his own image, who is supposed to reward and not punish good men and women, how could he so willfully bring such misery to such a good man.

As is characteristic of these ancient religions their struggle is mainly to understand the nature of God. Not so much the nature of man, in this case Job, who was the sufferer.

But with Adele, with Rona’s insight, we thought not about God but about Adele; and came to conclude that from the noble way in which she dealt with her endless series of afflictions we could extract many lessons. But more important, in this way, we could, we would come to respect and honor and love her even more.

It was her dignity that was even more endless than her illnesses. And the uncomplaining nature of her struggle to get through every day as less and less of her capacity to live independently and care for herself was taken from her.

This was all the more impressive since throughout, until literally her last day, she, as she would put it, “had her mind.” She was not even granted the release of unawareness or oblivion. Not that she ever wanted it.

She took it all on directly with a touch of stubbornness, contrariness, spunk (I love spunk), tenacity, and mainly humor. Humor often with an ironic, even a sarcastic edge, which is the closest expression of anger that she would allow.

It was perhaps that humor which most sustained her. All her life she loved a good joke (in recent weeks she and I were exchanging daily jokes—mainly doctor jokes--some raunchy) and interestingly as her decline accelerated these jokes, her ironic laughter increased.

It was ultimately, I think, that irony that gave away her secret—as she, with a hint of irony, would, with a shrug, frequently ask, “What are you going to do?”

It was a question that contained its own answer, which was-- “Nothing.” But not a “nothing” full of despair. Rather a “nothing” that meant, “What are you going to do?” Answer, “Just live.”

Whatever that means and with whatever the cards dealt to you. And though during these decades she had seemingly unplayable cards, she kept playing them to the end.

You all know that for years her favorite song was the one she wrote for herself—“I Want to be Young Again.” Well, we know how in life that always works out. But maybe she had the last laugh. We always thought she was hoping for restored health and beauty—that’s what she thought being young was about. And we knew that was not to be for her or, for that matter, for any of us.

But now, maybe as another bit of meaning derived from her life, perhaps, if there is a place beyond life, she got it right. She at last found a way to achieve that dream and a place to realize that hope--the one place where she will be young again. Forever young in all its meanings.

It is her final miracle.

And in this spirit of what one might ultimately achieve, Adele achieved one more thing that she for certain now is able to smile about.

She would probably spunkally say that the best thing about what just happened is that on this coming April 30th she can now avoid having to “celebrate” the 45th anniversary of her 35th birthday. She would have hated that.

So there are all sorts of consolations even at this sad time