Today I am grateful for Pam’s earrings. I remember her wearing the long dangly, twisty stones many times, even with a T-shirt, which she often wore to stay cool.
We lost Pam almost three years ago from the complications of the multiple sclerosis that she lived with for most of the time I knew her. . .over 30 years. I still think of her every single day. Why? She taught me patience and acceptance and kindness like no other human being I know. Because of her I am a better person. Pam would love my daily gratitude’s. I know she would. Because she was grateful for every second of her difficult life.
From stumbling, to wall-walking, to cane, to quad cane, to walker, to chair, to electric-high-tech-chair, to nursing home, Pam exuded the word “grace”. She never wanted to be a bother. She never complained. She was always polite and pleasant no matter what personal pain or emotional anxiety she was going through. And when moving was difficult she’d hum. A lot. Humming was her signature. It was the way she foreshadowed a change in movement or position and she did it with the ease of a great author foreshadowing an intricate plot line. There will never, ever be another Pam. No one could be that nice. But she was.
And so yesterday, when her husband gave me her earrings, the ones I know she loved, that I had seen her wear many times. . .and I put them on. . .it was like Pam saying, “Hello Mary Mooney! How ya doin’?” And I am beyond grateful. . .just like Pam always was.