On Becoming

Saturday night I decided to go hang out with the old folks. When I say old folks, I mean the bald men, graying ladies, grandmas and grandpas. That's right folks, the 25 year class reunion!

Do not, for one moment, assume that I BELONGED there, because I didn't. I was just crashing the party. I had nothing to say about my grandchildren or the price of college. I planned on capitalizing on the fact that I have a 4 year old. This, in my mind, makes me younger than all the rest. But then I ran into a couple of problems.

The first problem occurred when I decided that I really wanted to see people from across the room but didn't want to wear glasses. I put in contacts. The problem is that then I had to hold my eye shadow at arm's length to see it before applying it.

The next problem with my "I'm younger than you" story came when I inspected my face. Ah, the irony! 25 years ago I inspected my face for pimples. Today I inspect for maverick hairs. C'mon ladies over 40, you know which ones I'm talking about. Not that I have or had any, I'm just saying that it could be a problem.

What if I didn't remember anybody? What if nobody remembered me? What if even my husband abandoned me at an empty table because I was such a loser? When did I become so needy?

Fortunately, we ran into a couple in the parking lot that we had seen frequently with her son going to my school and her parents in the same assisted living center as my husband's dad. That got me in the door. Although still feeling insecure, I watched as others filed in. Most of them had excitement and terror written all over their faces. Others swooped right in to calm the frazzled nerves.

I knew most people on sight. I suddenly felt a surge of gratitude for the genius who came up with facebook. It was like a cheat sheet for the new millennium. Name tags helped but I knew these people. And the more I talked with them, the more I remembered. Snippets of a memory came to mind. I realized I was in the presence of some amazing people.

I remembered that Julie had survived brain cancer and is living with less than half of her brain. She was talking and eating, all evidence hidden beneath her full head of hair (although she told me once that she had lost her tact with her brain).

Dana had just had her last child when her husband committed suicide 6 years ago. Yet she sat across the table from me with her relatively new husband and told me about her children getting married, going on missions, giving her grandchildren.

Craig has recently joined the exclusive and non-coveted club of those who have lost children. One of those members turned her grief into art expression. She writes music and wrote a song that specifically expresses her grief of loss. She is a wonderful support to those who suffer.

There were those in the corners who tried to stay invisible. But then there were those who sought out the shy and uncomfortable, invited them into conversation, and expressed genuine friendship. I watched it over and over again. These were the people who threw pride out the window and approached the ones who had been beaten down from life and were still wondering how they would recover.

Yet by coming to a high school reunion, they were courageously making the effort to heal and connect.

Living to the age of 43 is not often viewed as an accomplishment. But so many of my former classmates are living heroically. Some didn't even know it. Although I pretended to not know it, one woman had overcome a drug addiction. One woman was suffering from survivor's guilt after surviving a fatal motorcycle accident with her husband. She now lives to raise her 2 year old son as a single mother.

My former classmates are survivors. Cancer, divorce, death of loved ones, legal issues, loss of jobs, infidelity, chemical abuse, and mental illness has visited these people. They have survived. Most are living life. Still others are flourishing and seeking out others to lift.

I wished those who still struggled could see the strength around them. Experience is an effective teacher. We become slower to anger, less likely to pass judgment, more empathetic and accepting. Souls become more precious. Bad choices leading to uncomfortable consequences no longer look like just rewards. We feel sorrow for their suffering. We applaud their accomplishments.

I guess I can live with the eyes changing, the occasional stray facial hair, and the support bra if I get to keep my lessons learned.