There's a place for us....

SIXTY years. That's a long time. Twenty-nine years. That, too, is a long time. On the 27th, my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Today, my hubby and I celebrate our 29th. Wow.

Looking at my parents, it's somewhat surprising they made it this long. Their marriage was similar to so many of their generation. They were YOUNG - 22 and 21. They knew nothing, hardly knew each other but liked each other well enough. They would go on to live a lifetime of adventures and heartbreaks and celebrations and sadness. Yet somehow, they survived. For some reason, they stuck together and today, I know they're glad they did. I'm glad they did.

For my hubby and I, it was a different story. We were best friends. We talked for HOURS. We knew each other so well. We built our marriage on a foundation of trust and love - solid as a rock. We needed that foundation because we too would have our share of adventure and heartbreak and celebration and sadness. Through it all, we never doubted that we would be wherever we needed to be...for each other.

For my parents' anniversary, our kids recorded one of my favorite songs ever - "Somewhere" from West Side Story. The lyrics speak perfectly to my parents' journey and transition this past year:

There's a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us
Somewhere

There's a time for us
Some day a time for us
Time together
With time to spare
Time to learn
Time to care
Someday

Somewhere
We'll find a new way of living
We'll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere

There's a place for us
A time and place for us
Hold my hand
And we're halfway there
Hold my hand
And I'll take you there
Somehow
Someday
Somewhere

So, please enjoy this beautiful recording of "Somewhere" performed by our children.

It's OK, I've Got This

Yesterday, I was visiting my parents and Mom was lamenting about the myriad things she's worried about (Dad's gait, the people they sit with at meals, my sister, the world in general...) and I immediately started feeling bad. My first instinct was to want to fix or address every concern that my Mom had.

That's when it hit me.

I'm my Mom's "person."

Thanks to circumstances and geography and a complete overhaul of my parents' life, I have become Mom's "person" - the one she calls when things go wrong. The one she depends on for....Depends! (Sorry, but it's true.) I'm the person upon whom she dumps her many, MANY worries. That used to be Dad, but I'm quite certain that now it's me.

Yesterday, she needed a hug and the reassurance that everything was going to be OK.  She needed me to tell her: "It's OK, I've got this."

Do I really have it? Of course not. Who does? But I instantly knew that that's what she needed to hear at that moment. She needed someone to "hug" a little sense into her.

It's kind of daunting and it's kind of humbling. I've suddenly been entrusted with the care of two more people. Just when I'm at a point of launching my own kids into the big, bad world, God (yep, I'm blaming him) decided  I should take on a couple more.

This is, in no way, an attempt to take any measure of credit. If there is credit, it goes to my hubby - MY person. He has, somehow, navigated the cold, cruel world of elder care and cobbled together a safe and caring life for my parents here in Wisconsin. It's my job to do the small things - the shopping trips, the doctor visits, the holiday arrangements. Some days that seems like a big job, but it's not really.

But just like the day you bring your first child home, the thought that you are in charge of a human...or two, or three...is scary. Knowing that you can barely care for yourself and suddenly you should look out for someone else? Crazy.

And yet, I do sometimes see it as a gift. These past few months have been a little insane, but we've managed. And now, we have stories to tell. FUNNY stories. Sad stories. Interesting stories. Our lives are now enriched because we've gone on an unexpected journey. Isn't that when life really happens?

In these days following the horrific tragedy in Newtown, CT, there has been a lot of talk about the heroism of teachers and keeping children safe. I can't imagine how teachers do what they do - lovingly care for, teach and keep children safe. I couldn't do that and I'm in awe of my sister who does. But I did see a connection to my own responsibility watching over my parents.

Yesterday, my daughter asked why I was going to see my parents. "Do they have a doctor's appointment?" she asked. "No," I responded. "I just try to see them twice a week and I only got there once last week." I wasn't saying it to pat myself on the back. But I did want her to understand that sometimes we do things that put other people first.

Perhaps someday, she'll be visiting me.