Helpers

Last week I had the pleasure of attending the wedding reception of a newly married couple. The family of the bride has been part of my life for 25 years. I had the privilege of working for this family as their nanny when the girls, Ashley and Hannah, were very young. I cared for the bride when she was just 2 years old! I’ll admit, I felt a bit old as I reminisced. But this family became so much more than just my employer. The mom, Kris, became a mentor for my future parenting. I would watch her with the girls and soak up every bit of how she loved her daughters and cared for them. When my children were babies and toddlers, I would often remember how Kris mothered, and I felt empowered by her example. Kris and Dave were my employers, who turned into my friends, and beautifully became family.

In 2013, when Aaron was diagnosed with sarcoma cancer, the closest sarcoma oncology clinic was in Seattle, on the other side of the state from where we lived. Treatment sometime included a lengthy stay on the west side of the state, sometimes just an overnight. There were two families that housed us during this time (I’ll write about the second family in another post). Kris and Dave welcomed us into their home without hesitation. Their home was large enough for our family of five to stay when needed and when Aaron and I needed to be at the hospital for consultations or treatment, they always found a way to provide childcare. Their daughters, the two I cared for as young children, stepped in without hesitation to help care for my children. As I think through this time, I am overcome by the love, support, and compassion this family gave us. They gave us a tremendous gift, and not just in the moment, but a gift for all time.

When I talk with the kids about the chapter of our life that was cancer, there is something that stands out. They typically talk about a bright spot of our cancer chapter, Kris and Dave’s house. They call it “the vacation house.” There was a great place to watch movies, a garden to pick berries, a pool to swim in, a fire ring for roasting smores and all those things were wonderful. But there was/is something special about that place, about this family. This is the home where we had to tell the kids that there was nothing more we could do to try and save Daddy, that he was going to die, and that his time was short. This is the home where they heard a lot of bad news over 4 years, and somehow Kris and Dave created such a space of love and safety that the kids remember first and foremost it as a space of happiness and love. They speak enthusiastically of fun memories including an unfortunate event with a septic tank, taking a ride on the garage door as it opened, riding the horse, swimming, a swimming pool proposal from a 4 year old, baking cookies, watching the cats cough up a hairball, a certain preschooler sleep walking naked to sit in front of the Christmas tree at night, and finding Kris’s lists in sheet protectors.  I am eternally grateful.

The wedding reception for Ashley and her husband was held in the backyard of the “vacation house.” It was lovely. I walked through the yard and so many memories filled my heart and mind. And they were all good memories. I could see remnants of Aaron there. I recalled late night conversations with Kris over dark chocolate and wine. I could see Hannah brushing their dog, Isaac playing wiffle ball with Dave, Eli snuggling up with their Hannah, and Aaron reading his book. Memories flooded my head and heart spaces.

After 9/11, I discovered one of my favorite quotes. Mr. Fred Rogers said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'" Dave and Kris, Ashley and Hannah, were the embodiments of this quote for our family. They didn’t shy away from our hard reality, they didn’t pretend it wasn’t happening. And they brought joy, friendship, love, comfort, and support as easily as they breathed. They entered life with us, allowed us to enter life with them, and walked alongside as caring companions on the journey.

I have learned and grown from so many of their examples. In all of the complexity and strain of life during cancer, they provided us a place of respite, of joy, of friendship… of companionship in the dark. We can all follow their example in our own ways. I promise you; it will not be forgotten.