Keep Smiling

I went to a funeral a couple of weeks ago. The sister of a close friend had died of cancer, leaving behind a husband and two sons. She was forty years old and, I learned, since learning of the cancer six years ago, had never once complained. She was an amazing, positive person, courageous and strong, to the end. The eulogies given by her husband, her brother, and her best friend all made me smile and brought tears to my eyes. And I never even knew her.

When I got to the funeral, I felt guilty being there. All around me, the room was packed with people who knew her, loved her, and would miss her smile, her kindness, her interminably positive presence. There were people who had known her all her life or all their lives. I felt like I was intruding on their private moment. But I wasn’t there for myself. I was there for my husband, for my friends, for her brother.

After the eulogies and prayers, we stepped out so the family could say goodbye privately. And it hit me. I thought about her husband and her sons, her brother and sister-in-law, her parents. I thought about how they had to say goodbye for the last time to this woman who was, by all accounts, a most amazing person.

I know that death is hardest for those left behind. She who died will no longer have to suffer; she may be at peace and in comfort now. But the void she leaves behind, the space she still fills, will remain.

She had a message for everyone who attended her funeral. “Keep smiling,” she had her brother tell us. The message is so simple, yet so powerful. Try it. When you’re in a crappy mood, smile. Force yourself to smile. Smile first a creepy, angry smile if you must, but smile. Smile until your cheeks hurt and your lips are dry.

My mom once gave me some excellent parenting advice – or perhaps simply survival advice. She said once, in passing, “You’ll miss this.” Or maybe it was more something like “They’re only this age once.” I don’t know. Shows how well I listen to my mother, doesn’t it? Anyhow, the point was the same. My kids, frustrating as they can be at almost 5 and 2, will grow older, and these hyper-charged, optimistic, energetic, innocent, parent-worshipping toddlers will be replaced by suspicious, lazy, smart-aleck, parent-resenting teenagers.

I recently read the book, “Dogs of Babel” that mentioned in passing a woman who would fake droopy eyes at her infant child to make the child feel sleepy. So one day, as I lay next to my two-year-old to get him to take his nap, I tried that trick. It didn’t really work – at all. But, getting impatient, I ordered my son to go to sleep. I was sick and tired of how long it takes to make this already exhausted, sleepy boy go down for a nap, and I wanted to get downstairs. Well, he flashed me the droopy eyes, the whole routine – closing them half way, and then opening them, again and again. I smiled despite myself. That little sneak was using my trick on me. He smiled back at me. I started to laugh. And I just couldn’t stop. He joined in, and the two of us laughed until we were out of breath.

Now, I certainly can’t remember what time he went to sleep during that nap or later that night, or how crabby he was later that afternoon. And I suppose that’s the lesson. I need to enjoy the moments and relax more about the particulars. It’s stressful, of course, because I’m the one who keeps them on schedule. I’m the one who’s there day after day making sure they wake up, get ready, eat, get to school, have lunch, snacks, naps, and dinner on time, and go to bed on time so they can start the whole routine again the next day in the best possible mood.

At the funeral, I did the math, and realized that this woman was exactly where I am now when she was diagnosed with cancer. She was 34 years old, with two boys the same ages as my sons are now. And those boys are incredibly strong, so mature. What does this tell me? Well, one, I am quite fortunate to still have my life ahead of me. Two, I don’t know how long that is, and so I need to make the most of every day. And three, to do that, I need to keep smiling and enjoy the moments when my kids are just kids and not simply doing everything I tell them to do to stay on schedule.