IN A MOMENT

The Stranger

I am alone in my apartment. July 4, 2008. Awaiting the phone call that may occur, in a moment - this one or the next - telling me that my mother has passed away. A moment I have always known would one day appear in my life, is upon me. I’ve always, too, had the sense that the weight or size of this moment would be more than I could bear. And, to tell the truth - it is.

Were it not for something beyond the rather wan, and somewhat pathetic man that I, appear to myself to sometimes be - I wouldn’t be here at my computer attempting to put into words the most profoundly moving experience of my life.

My mother, the person who carried me for nine months, and through whom I came into the world - is leaving this experience we call life. And leaving me behind. There was a time I loved her and my father so, that I remember feeling “I hope I die before either mom or dad dies.” I didn’t do that before dad left. Won’t before my mother goes. I’ll still be here, and in a moment neither of my parents will be here with me ever again in this life. And what of it? And how is it that I am here alone attempting to make sense of something so much bigger than I?

I wish I had a perspective. But I don’t. I am a man. But I don’t quite feel like one in a moment like this. There is a part of me, I’m afraid, that has always remained or retained a kind of a quality somehow, someway connected to - childhood. I felt that quality threatened when dad died. But not overcome, because my mother had NOT. But in a moment, I won’t ever again be able to depend on either of them to retain this connection to that magic land. If I am to have it from here on it’ll have to come elsewhere. A place I never thought of looking for it before is - inside myself!

Why am I writing this? And to whom? I’ve no answer. I’m …. in darkness. Not only outside, but especially, within. With only the vaguest sense that a lot may be at stake in terms of how I respond to this moment. Again, something inside feels threatened. Something that, if lost or severed from my being, may, indeed will, alter me for the rest of my life in a way I’d prefer not to live. I referred earlier to a sense of “something beyond.” What is it? Again, no answer. But, something IS helping me …. almost bearing me up in the face of the weight of this moment.

I’m reminded of a quote by philosopher, Baudelaire: “Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.” I think if Steven Spielberg had never made another movie other than E.T., I would always think of him as a genius. To me, that film is one of the greatest examples of an adult in full possession of that part of himself that is CHILDHOOD. I don’t know if he had to recover it or not, but he had it then. Had to - or he couldn’t have given birth to that film. Because, everything in it speaks to the eternal childhood in each of us, and it’s a work of genius because it ALWAYS will.

There is a moment in the film when a group of kids on bicycles who are attempting to remove E.T. from harm’s way, are faced with an insurmountable obstacle. They are racing through a forest on their bicycles, and at the very last second when it appears they will be apprehended …. slowly they begin…. on their bicycles and cradling E.T. on one of them …. TO RAISE UP AND INTO THE SKY AND BECOME AIRBORN!!

One of the most exhilarating and exalted moments ever to grace the screen. And you don’t have to be a particular age, race, or gender, or have a particular life experience to become airborn with them. All you have to do is to be there, wherever you are - watching that film. And suddenly, you are not in your seat any longer - YOU ARE UP THERE IN THE SKY, TOO - ONE OF THEM!! I don’t know if Mr. Spielberg is still in possession of that magic quality. Saw THE COLOR PURPLE, saw SCHINDLER’S LIST. He’ll never make a bad film. But they are not E.T. And, to be honest about it, there isn’t one of his films that I’ve seen since E.T. that has touched my heart the way that film did.

So what, and what of it? I’m lost and its the only thing I know for sure. In danger of losing something. Not even sure what it is. But why am I thinking of E.T.? And …. CHILDHOOD? All that’s coming to me in this moment is to …. pray. First and foremost and lastly - for my mother. And then - for just the slightest sliver of light to enter the darkness. Maybe it can help me know what to do about something she said to me in our conversation, the very last day she had the strength enough to speak to me and she said …. “Don’t give up.”

The sound of firecrackers being set off in the neighborhood for the last hour or so has stopped. In their place, the sound of my A/C ….. and underneath that sound …. an awesome …. SILENCE …. awaiting now ….

Only the sound of a telephone, that will surely ring ….

IN A MOMENT.

P.S.

From here on, perhaps …. the stars overhead in the sky are to become my shelter …. the sun and the moon my parents …. life itself …. my family…. and you …. my brothers and sisters ….

P.P.S.

Watching my fingertips …. inching along the tops of books …. in a small cherry wood bookcase, a gift from mom, that I keep in my bedroom. Not sure what they’re looking for. They come to rest on one …. I can feel what it is before I see the title …. sense the paragraph before I see it on the page with my eyes:

“Childhood is not a thing which dies within us and dries
up as soon as it has completed its cycle. It is not a memory.
It is the most living of treasures, and it continues to enrich us
without our knowing it … Woe to the man who cannot
remember his childhood, recapture it within himself, like a
body inside his own body, a new blood in the old blood:
he is dead as soon as it leaves him.”
The Poetics of Reverie

There it is - the sliver of light ….