Sometimes a word, like the melody of an old song, can trigger vivid memories. One innocent word has the power to recall images of a time past or of a forgotten friend.
I found such a word in Lindsay Moran's Blowing My Cover - My Life as a CIA Spy. One second I'm reading about this woman's experience at "The Farm" and all things covert, the next I'm tripping over the word assuage.
I first encountered this verb in an email message back in 1998. My mom, diagnosed with breast cancer, had scheduled a masectomy during a trip I had planned to Amsterdam and Paris. Although I rode the bus to Massachusetts immediately upon my return, I felt like a selfish brat.
I hadn't taken a proper vacation in a couple years and longed to go to Europe. My bestfriend and I had scrimped and saved for months to purchase that roundtrip flight. I would run from my crap 9-5 job to my crap part-time job - waitressing at an Italian restaurant.
The only light at the end of my tunnel was that trip.
And I did my research.... knew the odds of my mother dying during the routine operation were very slim. But the whole time I felt like God had presented me with a test. What kind of person was I?
Would I think of myself and run off to sightsee in Europe? Or would I run to Massachusetts to hold my mom's hand in her time of need?
I got wasted on the flight from DC to Schiphol in Amsterdam. I traipsed from the Netherlands to France in eight days, the entire time preoccupied with thoughts of my mother, or pangs of guilt the few times I forgot and found myself having a fantastic time.
I felt horrible - like a complete failure as a daughter, unwilling to be beside my mom during what was a terrifying time for her. Unable to perform that one task required of me as her flesh.
A couple weeks later, after writing a candid letter to my friend in the Peace Corps, he replied that he wish he could "assuage my guilt."
Assuage. I had no idea what it meant, but I fell in love with that word.
And reading Moran's memoire, I found myself reliving those feelings.
Do I regret traveling to Europe? In all honesty, it was a great trip. I learned a lot in that week. Do I regret not going home? The operation went well and I was with her the following week while she recuperated. My mom has been in remission for more than seven years and is fine.
Though sometimes I still feel like I failed some cosmic test.
And on that cheerful note - a Happy New Year to you all.
I think you did the right thing. And I'm sure your mom did as well. You had a great trip, and everything turned out fine!
There..have I assuaged your worries?
;o)
Posted by: teahouseblossom | 03 January 2006 at 02:19
Ya know, that test might have been a different one, along the lines of "Will you marty yourself so that you can have regrets about not doing this thing?" Or "Which regret would you rather have?"
Yes, it's tough to have choices like that, and maybe you would have gotten a daughter gold star for holding your mom's hand during her time of fear. But maybe you would have just forced her to put on a Brave Mommy Face for you. Was there no one else with her -- husband, sister, other children? Were you the sole support available or just one of many?
I entertain myself by thinking about these things. Don't mind me, I'm punchy :>
Posted by: Sherri | 03 January 2006 at 02:15