Old Faithful

And I thought about years, how they take so long, and they go so fast. --Mary Chapin Carpenter

The first time I met E, she made it clear that her doctor had recommended massage therapy for her stiff neck, lest I think she was the type who spends money on wasteful pampering (as if seeking treatment for pain after a chandelier falls on your 81 year-old head is a luxury). Like me, she and her husband had moved to California from the Midwest--a clue to her apologetic comments.  Back East (that's what they call anything east of the Rockies over here), people are taught to put themselves last. Self-Indulgence is the tenth deadly sin, right after divorce and dancing.

Her octogenarian husband, G, waited on the curb in their white Cadillac, reading a dog-eared copy of a Louis L'Amour paperback while I led his wife up the stairs to my studio for her first massage.   As I gently worked through layers of tension in her neck, I assured E that she'd done the right thing by scheduling a massage. She seemed relieved as much by the permission to have the bodywork, as the therapy  itself. By her third appointment, I'd convinced her that a half-hour was not long enough to address over 80 year's of life's toll on the body of a mother, teacher, and farmer's wife and she happily agreed to extend her treatments to an hour.

Over the past nine years, E has become much more than just a faithful client.  I know all her grandchildren by name, and she's watched J grow from a little boy to a seventeen year-old young man--always remembering him on birthdays and holidays. Her friendly but shy husband, G,  packs a paper sack filled with peppermint candy, nuts, fruit, and homemade cookies to send along every week, and every week I pretend not to notice he's fallen asleep in the car, while reading his book.

G turned 90 a couple years ago, and E will reach that milestone in November. Although they're both amazingly sprite and clear-headed for their age, G now takes a lot more naps and E's balance is often unsteady. A few months ago her children bought a massage table so I could treat her in their home. Our Friday morning ritual has shifted--me pulling into their driveway instead of G at the curb, the three of us sharing a cup of coffee and toast at the kitchen table before E's treatment, G telling stories in the way one does after having told them a hundred times.

There have been other changes as well. Store-bought biscotti has replaced the home baked cookies in my parting treat bag.  E, who has long prided herself on remaining physically self-reliant through her eighties, now lets me clip her toenails and pluck the occasional stray hair from her chin. Something about growing older allows people to grow out of old standards of stiff propriety and stoic resolute. Even G's shyness has faded some, and he now lets me hug him before I leave.

I have come to dearly love these two precious human beings, and know that when the time comes, their passing will leave a huge dent in my heart. The closer we become, the closer they move toward their eventual departure from this life. Every kiss on E's soft, wrinkly cheek at the end of her massage, could be my last, each lingering wave from the living room window, the closing frame on a favorite movie.  I know this as well as I know every familiar bone in her body under my hands.

"I love you, Honey," E said, as she handed me her check this morning. "Don't forget your goodies on your way out."

"I love you, too," I said.

G stood nearby while I folded up the massage table and tucked it into the hall closet. "You'll like that biscotti," he said."It's chocolate."

When I turned to face him, It was as almost as if those old eyes could see through my fragile smile, straight to that most tender place in ones gentle life. In an uncharacteristic act of unspoken love, he not only let me hug him a little longer than usual, he opened his arms even before I made my move.

Technorati Tags: aging, massage, relationships Mary Chapin Carpenter

Comments

[Jim Brodhead]

Goddammit...I seem to have gotten something in my eye again!

[Susan]

I think this closeness to one's elders is what I miss most about living in the cities. Its often so cold here, and I'm not talking about the weather...

Thank you for reminding me there are still those moments with people to treasure.

[Hope]

This was so beautiful. Thank you.

[Fran aka Redondowriter]

Very beautiful, honest, heartfelt post, El. Thanks.

[TT]

A heart of gold- Yeah! You got it. Wish there were more like you.

[pioneerspirittb]

Isn't it amazing how everyday events and familiar loved ones can give us such joy. I loved hearing about your dear friends and, as often after your posts, I am teary without even knowing exactly why.
Relationships like these are what make our lives rich. You've moved me to meditate on and really cherish some of the ones I have been able to cultivate over years.
Thanks

[D]

somehow the warmth from within, is warmer that a thousand suns. and when there are words like these, it leaves me with a tear in my eye.

beautiful...

thank you. very much.

[Cathy]

Aw such a sweet story Thank You

[Carolyn]

Ahh El, you bring much more than the massage to E, with your weekly visits to see them. Your words of how you feel about them brought a tear to my eye and a twang to a heart string. Bless you for adding something so good to their aging years,YOU!

[Boyd]

I just loved this, Ellie. Thank you so much for posting it.