Constructing the Meaning of a Life Well-lived

There was a poem brewing in the following events, but it took a while before it was ready to be poured out.  I can write while I cry and sniffle and cough my way through the pain.  I got a call from a person at Teammates today.  Anne had been a Teammates mentor and loved every minute of that calling.  Mostly she was comfortable with not having had any daughters, but sometimes she needed to scratch that itch.  Teammates mentoring started out as a way to do that.  But it became so much more.

The call was to express sympathy first of all.  The woman who called lost her husband on November 21st.  Oh my goodness...so first we cried together for each other.  How my heart ached for her, and I've never met her.  Another addition to the prayer list.  Then the second purpose.  Anne's mentee, now a young adult, is having a few struggles and wondered if Anne might talk with her.  She told the Teammates folks that it was because of Anne that she graduated from high school at all.  That's when I really lost it.  That was so wonderful to hear, and it just reminded me again of how desperately I miss Anne.  Anne's mentee wanted to thank Anne and see if they could re-connect.

The question was two-fold.  Could they tell the young woman that Anne had died?  Yes...but please go gentle with that poor girl who already has enough hurt in her life.  And could she call me if she wanted to?  Yes, of course.  Anne loved her and wanted the best for her and gave hours of her life to her, and told me about her--within the limits of confidentiality.  How could I do any less than try to help more if I could?

We cried a bit more and wished each other well.

Anne's mentee called a bit later--devastated, crying, sad, almost speechless.  I understand.  I thought I would be debilitated when she called.  But I was able to shift into caregiver mode and to help her cope a bit.  I was sitting in the room where I have all of Anne's things and pictures.  I know that Anne was allowed to give me the strength I needed to care her mentee.  I don't know how else I could have gotten through that phone call.

Neither of us could talk all that much, so we agree to talk again later.  I hope I can help her somehow, for Anne and for her.  Honey, please help me to be wise and loving, like you.  The ripples of your life and love continue to wash against the shores of my life.  It's so wonderful to hurt this way.  Strange, but true.

Later, a poem did come out of this.  It is called “Meant-ee.”

You brought her flowers every time you visited her

     a riot of colors

          purple, green, yellow

               red, pink, blue...

Before you came you called

     What's your favorite number at Burger King

           I know you say you won't eat

                But if I have my way you will...

You gave her your heart

     You were her second mom--she says

          The daughter you didn't have

               The daughter you found

I know you worried about her

     Prayed for her constantly

          Shook your head in disgust

               Always wanted to do much more

You taught her to live and love

     You got her out of trouble more than once

          You told her to keep her mouth shut and her fists quiet

                You got her to graduation and beyond

She came to see you

     To read you a letter

          To give you flowers in your favorite color

               To sit with you and talk

She'll be back

     I have the daughter you found

          Who found me

                We'll share our pain and our love for you

What else did you do that you didn't tell me?