Be Fully Mindful and Present with Your Loved Ones While You Have the Chance

Be Fully Mindful and Present with Your Loved Ones While You Have the Chance

“Before someone’s tomorrow has been taken away, cherish those you love, appreciate them today.” ~Michelle C. Ustaszeski

One day after being on a spiritual path for many years, I stood in my art studio, happy to be creating a new painting. Content in my life, I was married to a great guy and raising two young boys that brought me so much joy.

My life was perfect. Well, not exactly, but I definitely had moments of thinking it was, and this happened to be one of those moments.

I had come a long way. Gone were the constant “what if’s” and the fear that I was going to get that phone call that someone got hurt, or worse. I could now put things into a larger framework. I was no longer stuck in my own jail with my fear and self-limiting thoughts. I had risen above all of that.

Dusk no longer brought me down, even Sunday nights were fine. I used to get melancholy every Sunday evening. I had figured out that I was the problem. I learned to allow more good into my life, and had many revelations that changed my energy into a more positive one. I reinvented myself.

A few years prior, my dad had a heart attack, and he vowed to take better care of himself so he would be here for many more years with his family. The doctor gave him twelve years with his new valves, and we like to think all our prayers gave him five more.

A few years since, my grandma had breast cancer, and she vowed to take better care of herself so she would be here for many more years with her family. The doctor gave her twelve years with her mastectomy, and we like to think all our prayers gave her five more, especially after she had awaken from her coma. It pained me however to see her suffer so, she was blind and deaf, for about five years as a result.

A few years hence, my mother had breast cancer, and she vowed to take better care of herself so she would be here for many more years with her family. The doctor gave her twelve years with her mastectomy, and we like to think all our prayers gave her five more, especially after she had awaken from her coma. It pained me however to see her suffer so, she was blind and deaf, for about five years as a result. At the same time her brother my uncle had prostrate cancer and was taken to a nursing home called, Heavens Gate, on Evergreen Street. And he vowed to take better care of himself so he would be here for many more years with his family. The doctor gave him twelve years with out his prostrate, and we like to think all our prayers gave him five more. His son the Doctor is making sure both of them is comfortable as he did for my grandma and father, during their last days. This is the man that brought me to this wonderful country of ours back in the 60s.

Those five extra years were truly a gift, as he and my mom moved to Riverside, RI from Brooklyn NY and spent time with my brother and sisters who lived nearby with their families. My twin sister and I would drive from New York NY at least once a month with our families, and he enjoyed his grandchildren and loved that we all saw each other as often as we did. The same for my grandmother, who had come from the old country to join us, earlier.

He especially loved Christmas. Every Christmas Eve we would make our traditional fish and pasta dinner. I always looked forward to spending the day together shopping for the food and then preparing it for that very special evening.

Hands down the most important day of the year was Christmas Eve, and when the whole family came together, it was magical.

My Dad had a pretty tough exterior. His nickname was Muggy, and boy did he live up to it. He was a handsome man with Italian dark skin and beautiful green eyes, a flash of white teeth, when he threw you that half smile. He was a pretty tough guy with a quick to anger demeanor.

I was one of four girls that were all of dating age, and he made any boys who would come to pick us up really uneasy. I always felt uncomfortable introducing them, as there would be some sort of Godfather music playing in my mind through the awkward moments till I could flee the house to freedom and breathe again.

A friend of mine referred to him as Al Capone and I had to give him that, as I would watch him drive down the street, his fedora tilted the way he always wore it, a cigarette dangling off his lower lip.

I, however, was not intimidated by him, because I knew the real man, the interior that was kind and gentle and as soft as a teddy bear.

As I became a young adult, and went out on my own, our relationship stayed strong.

My father was one of my best friends. He was on speed-dial, and my go-to person when I needed someone to talk to. He was there for me financially when things weren’t that great. He was my rock and my safety net and I would share everything with him, the good news and the bad.

He would yell for my mom to pick up the other line if it was important (and then get annoyed that he couldn’t hear me, because she talked over him). He would ask me are you gonna make me laugh, or are you gonna make me cry? I guess I was always calling to either complain or share a funny story.

My father called me every morning, and no matter what I was doing I picked up and spoke to him. I cherished our morning talks and worried about one day losing him. My grandmother called me every afternoon, and no matter what I was doing I picked up and spoke to her. I cherished our afternoon talks and worried about one day losing her. My mother had abandoned me at three and she took care of me. So to me she's my real mother. Lsta time I visited by mother she called the cops and had me escorted out of the house after 30 days. She didn't want me there.

A horrible divorce from my first wife led me to a new life path that would take me on a journey that, well, I’m still on.

I read The Language of Letting Go, by Melody Beattie, then I read every spiritual book I could get my hands on. A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, and The Power of Now blew me away, as it was all I needed to finally escape my dark fears about death and the worry about my dad.

When I married again, my dad and grandmother was there to support me along with my beautiful mom, and brother, they were there for the birth of both of my daughters and sons.

So, back to the moment in the art studio…

After hanging up from my morning call from my dad, I reflected on the idea that with all I read, and all that I now understand, I would be okay if something happened to him. The same for my grandma. That my spiritual journey had guided me to this very moment in time.

I repeated the sentence in my head: I would be okay if something happened to him or her.

As I stood there in that sunlit room, I could hear the words ringing in my head, ringing with the power of truth that this truly was the gift.

The gift of emotional and spiritual maturity to handle what was soon to be my dad’s last Christmas with us. Yes, the gift of emotional and spiritual maturity to handle what was soon to be my grandma’s last Christmas with us.

A few weeks later, on Christmas night, after we all had dinner together. My dad wasn’t feeling well and went home earlier than usual. Again, a few weeks later, on Christmas night, after we all had dinner together. My grandma wasn’t feeling well and went home earlier than usual.

That’s the night we got the phone call, the call that I spent my whole adult life worrying about. My last Christmas with Dad, my last morning call from my best friend. That’s the night we got the phone call, the call that I spent my whole adult life worrying about. My last Christmas with Grandma, my last afternoon call from my best friend.

The loss of my father was beyond words for me, but if we can live in each moment, we can stay strong and realize that we are okay when loved ones leave this earth. Again, the loss of my grandmother was again, beyond words for me, especially back to back but if we can live in each moment, we can stay strong and realize that we are okay when loved ones leave this earth.

I was gifted precious years with him and her, enjoyed every phone call, every visit, and celebrated all of the time I shared with him and her.

Of course I grieved, and I still miss him and her every day, but what I realized was that we do have the strength needed to carry on with our happy lives. That we were blessed to have them while they were here and that we are better for having known them, for their memories live forever in our hearts.

We never know when we will lose someone so dear to us; it’s easier to accept the inevitability of loss when we can look back without regrets. Be fully present with your loved ones while you have the chance. Not everyone gets the gift of five more years, even if you pray for them.

The worst Thanksgiving. of my life was the Thanksgiving of 1998. My wife Marilyn had been diagnosed with Stage IV cancer about eight months earlier - on April 3, to be precise. "We will figure this out!" became my daily mantra but by Thanksgiving , it had become clear that saying it would not make it so. Marilyn was one of seven the oldest girl and in many ways the goo-to woman of the family. We piled into our Chrysler minivan and headed to celebrate Thanksgiving with the extended clan at my brothers house in Seekonk MA. Nancy his wife, -- petite, most kind and gracious with clear blue eyes and an easy , raspy laugh -- My brother though seven years younger had been my goto man. They help me balance dealing with the devastating prognosis and desperate search for treatment while giving our daughters and sons, then 1 and 6 some sense of normalcy.

Nearly 20 years later when I think of that Thanksgiving or that Christmas, it makes me cry. My healthy, beautiful athletic wife -- college softball and lacrosse player -- had become thin and gaunt but was still impeccably dressed, with a tweed coat beneath a quilted Barbour jacket and brown lace-up shoes. An English driving cap sitting on her hairless head from chemo. It was especially difficult for her since she was and is a juvenile diabetic.

As I stared out the window of my brother Anthony's house, I saw that my vibrant up for anything wife had been sidelined. Relegated to watching the mid-afternoon touch-football game seemed beyond cruel. But Marilyn, as always, was coaching her younger siblings and cheering her extended family on -- benched, but refusing to admit defeat.

Celebrating the holidays takes a new poignancy when someone is dying. As hard as you try , it's impossible to push away the persistent voices in your head murmuring, "This will probably be your last [insert holiday here] together as a complete family." But life goes on and it doesn't have to be a life sentence, only a life lesson.

I wish I had the perfect recipe for taking away that drumbeat of fear and pain. There just isn't one. My girls and boys provide comfort and joy. Our families and friends provide love and support. Thought through the years and all the traveling the rewards of old age are diminished, for we are now leading our lives further apart than ever. And the holiday themselves commanded us to appreciate the here and now. Christmas would come and go, and one month later, her body would collapse on the powder-room floor.

I've had 19 years Christmas and Thanksgivings since my wife died. Many of them have been warm and wonderful. I now have a new wife whom I adore, who is loving and smart and so funny. I think she and my Marilyn would have been great friends. Her greatest gift has been allowing me to love them both.

Marilyn often said that I was born on a sunny day, which I took as a real compliment. But that sunniness can also be blinding to you to the suffering of others. No more. Ever since Marilyn got sick, I have been keenly aware that there are those whose holidays are far from being merry and bright. They might be next to you picking out ornaments or tying a tree on the roof of their car. They could be ordering a standing rib roast from the butcher or watching their child perform in a fourth grade assembly or growing impatient when they can't reach the carry-on in the over head compartment. They are all around , bravely holding on to the present and terrified about the future.

If you know them, intrude on their privacy by reaching out, even if they turn you away. If you don't know someone in this category, say a prayer or two for them and wish them courage, strength, protection and guidance and what Emily Dickinson described as "the thing with feathers" : HOPE. And if you're lucky enough to have your health and the health of those you love, look around, soak it in, and take a moment to say thank you.