When we grow up, we lose the ability to see things only in black and white. All the shades of gray gradually creep up onto us, forcing us to see that not every action or event is all good or all bad. Then one day we realize that those shades of gray have 'flavors', and all the colors around us come into play. We begin to see the nuances behind decisions that are made, the little events that lead up to the big ones. We see that there are decisions that are agonized over that once would have made us certain that it was a bad decision, yet now that we can see the colors of those little agonies, we understand that it is merely a sacrifice that must be made for a greater good. We still may not like it, but now that we can see those colors, those shades of nuance, we can understand.
And with understanding comes a hard-earned wisdom. We cannot become wise without leaving behind the black-and-white vision of childhood, leaving behind our certainty that there are only shades of gray. We must accept that life is comprised of color, of flavor, of textures both subtle and bold. As much as it might be easier to think in black and white, as much as it might pain us to discover that even shades of gray can be broken down, it is something that all of us must come to understand so that we all may become truly wise.
I look back at my life sometimes and laugh at some of the things that I have done and cry at some of the experiences I've had. There is very little in my life that I can say that I am truly ashamed to have done, and for that, I am thankful. There is
nothing in my life that I would go back and change. A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that my mom had asked me about that and I told her no, because I was happy with who and where I am, and that that might not be possible if I changed anything. But it's a little more than that, really. If I had not experienced all that I have, the good and the bad, I'm not sure that I would have been able or ready to really understand and accept the decision that
she made when she accepted Hospice care rather than try to fight for a chance at a few more months of life.
Someone once told me that life is what you make of it. I think perhaps that is one of the most perceptive and true things that I have ever heard. The ways that we act and react determine more than just immediate consequences. Our choices determine not only how we are perceived by others, but how we cause ourselves to feel and act in the future.
Taking joy in the counted moments before a known death is one of the hardest things I have ever done. But having made that decision, it was far easier for me to spend time with my mother than it would have been if I had decided (consciously or not) that her death was nothing more than a senseless tragedy. I did not dwell on her death then, and I knew that she did not want me to. I do not dwell on her death now, nor would she have wanted me to. Instead, when I think of her (as I often do), I remember her as she was: full of life, loving, funny, loyal, friendly and outgoing. Fifteen or twenty years ago, her death would have been written for me in stark black and white. Ten years ago, gray shadows would have been in the script. But now when I think of her or her death, I always see her in Technicolor.
