My Pledgestill left in my body I will live with dignity and courage, love and compassion, truth and strength, laughter and joy, independently as I am able. I will glean every bit of living and beauty and wonder there is to be had in a day. I will strive to let go of bitterness, anger and self-pity, remembering both the miracle and unfairness that is life. I will dwell on the many gifts that have been mine in my years on this planet. While there is breath still left in my body I will fiercely continue to be a mother, a wife, a relative, and a friend, fulfilling these joyful roles as best as I am able, giving as much as I can and receiving kindness with grace. I will also continue to be a teacher, and a counselor, only the scope of my subject has expanded to the universe. I will treasure the wisdom I have gained, and the dear friendships I have made on this journey. While there is breath still left in my body I will humbly and graciously accept the help I need from others, remembering that they have needs too. I will allow myself to be human, to weep and to grieve for my losses, to feel despair, hopelessness, and terror, confident I will rise above them, While there is breath still left in my body. Carrie Burchardt-Pharr July 19,1999 |
We've learned how to keep our shells on in our family. It's what we don't say, what we are silent about that stands out. Will this be the last Mother's Day? If it's not, what shape will I be in next year? These are my private thoughts -- I don't know what anyone else's are. I've learned to carry on even cheerily, although quite quietly, to be socially appropriate when my mind is far away. Dan, my friend Landra and I are walking across Washington Park amidst the fair booths and spring flowers. My sweet children who have come in a separate car come running up to me with a gift of earrings they have just bought for me. Cara knows that I know that she knows in a short time she will have these earrings. But we pretend it's like any other Mother's Day. I'm thinking all day long how happy I would have been with this day, with my children, my friend, and my husband if I knew I had a future with them.
After dinner, we take pictures outside the restaurant - just like we always have done for all Mother's Days. It's what we don't say that stands out. Of all of us, Devin is most able to live in the moment. Cara's way of coping with this, I know, is to feel lucky about how perfect her life was so far, and to rationalize that some clouds have to come into it. I look at my children's faces and I see beauty, strength, and wisdom beyond their years. They will have to carry on without me. It feels like baby birds who have left the nest too soon. I am fearful they will not know how to fly without me, but I know they do, and I know their father will take care of them. I don't know what Dan is thinking, because he is not telling me. But he gives me a card that closes, "Always and ever I'll love you like crazy." I'm thinking, "How did he find a card that said the perfect thing?" That night, I write him an e-mail at work, so he will get it the next day, thanking him for a wonderful day.
And when I go to sleep, I feel content that my family has another good memory of me to have with them always.
May 10,1999
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