The opposite of Old is not Young

"The opposite of old is not young. The opposite of old is new.

As long as we continue to experience the new,

we will gloriously inhabit all of the ages that we are."

(Susan Sark)

To experience the “New” we need to open up to change. A concept I thought I was Okay with. I always believed that I was change resilient. Then, I came to a shocking realisation, that I, like most people am comfortable about the “old”.

I like my space to remain as it is, with its wild abandon, but still the same. I like to know that the people in my life are the “same”. The most startling realisation of this was when I experienced a “change” in my mother – the constant in my life.

There for me – sharing a close and special friendship.

I should not be surprised that Mom’s life testimony should become my directory for managing change.

The first monumental change, was when she was shot in the face during a hijack attempt in 1995, and her world took on major changes. Having partial to little sight in her remaining left eye, very little sense of smell and a false right eye – her independence was remodeled. Needing to depend on others for assistance in driving to the shops or going anywhere for that matter – she took charge of this change by learning to walk around her neighborhood with the aid of a stick. She said to me the fear of not knowing who was “out there” motivated her to such an extent, that she was determined to meet all the people outside of her home. The neighbors and passers by. She walks every morning and greets everyone she passes. Looking directly into their faces (she can’t see them) and directly facing her fear.

Not being able to work to earn her living, she took on her first love – painting. First in water colour and now with the advent of acrylic water colours she now can paint on canvas again. The fumes from acrylics affected her damaged sinuses that water colour was her only option. Her dream of having her wall covered in pictures came to fruition...now they are a gallery of her work, as is our home.

Her other hobbies – dress making and cooking also flourished. It’s hard to believe that a person, who can only see spots from one eye, could sew her granddaughter’s First Holy Communion dress (the closest you can get to a wedding dress).

These changes happened apart from me, a witness and support. From my vantage point, she was the “same” the mother I knew, she dealt with all the adversities – we all did, but she was still the “same”. Little did I know that what I had taken for granted and depended on would “change”.

HER constant – Eddie died in 2009. How could I expect her to remain constant? I did. I felt that she would definitely mourn and we did together. But having spent 22 years with a man – her constant – now he was gone, obviously creates change. The space he left behind will always be his, but life shifts to accommodate this space.

Mom’s friends rallied around her, and I have never in my life witnessed the power of a network of friends. Because Mom is dependant on others for her mobility (she can’t drive). In order to deal with the pain and heartache of not having Eddie by her side, she went “inside” and her inner self emerged. A person I had only known for a few years before she married Eddie and after she and Dad divorced in 1978.

My inner child and her inner child have met...and it hurts...a raw pain, something that I would rather hide and keep covered up.

I look at the same woman but see someone else, I look at myself and see someone else too. I fear what I see, I don’t know it. The constant has gone and in its place is something intangible and difficult grasp. I cannot “see” it and I cannot clearly identify it either. It has no defined outline – it’s just there.

Mom has met a man who cares for her deeply, and she for him. Why do I at this point struggle to “name” him? We give the people in our lives “tags” like: my mother, my father, brother, sister, step-father, friend, boy friend...etc. I resist giving him a “tag”. He is simply Eric. I “see” how he makes her happy, I “see” how she has become the woman she has yearned to be. She has a lightness in her step, a sparkle in her eye, a smile which doesn’t leave.

I “see” too, how her home has become more his home...an recently “their” home...I “see” that this is good, but I feel I don’t belong. The person I was – doesn’t belong anymore. Is it because that person in me reminds her of Eddie? Perhaps?....

So when the two people meet we rub...a bit...and it’s sore, deep, deep down inside.

So I pull away. It’s easier to go back to my “old” safe place than embrace the “new”. The “new” means confronting my inner self.

Mom is taking shape into the person she was before, attractive and youthful and beautiful. My “old” self inside feels uncomfortable, we weren’t meant to go “back”...but forward. I could depend on her becoming “old”. I resist this and I feel angry for this reflex. Why can’t I just let it happen and stand back to observe, why do I have to feel?

The answer, I believe lies in the fact that we are all connected and when change happens to one person we can either choose to detach completely from this and remain the “same” or we can allow it to “change” us too. This requires faith. Faith is believing, despite not knowing, defining and seeing what will come. Walking in the “dark” and believing that what will come out at the other end will be better, will be good for me and will make me stronger. I have faith that I am where I am meant to be. I have entered the journey and I have faith that there will be ground ahead to carry me, even if I cannot “see” it. I will change – I will become “new”. It will be good and I like my Mom have an amazing network of friends to carry me when I “can’t” or when I “fall”.