This is a nonmedical post – I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
I recently took my middle daughter, Giana, to visit my oldest child, Maddie, in Florida. Maddie lives there with her mother, as she has for all but the first 7 months of her life. She turns 15 this year.
We went to see Maddie’s dance recital. For years, she has enjoyed dancing and I love experiencing the parental joy of watching one of my children pursue her passions. In the course of the weekend, we enjoyed each other’s company and conversation. We talked about dance, school, her friends, and boys. The sisters talked about sister things and I tried to provide space for those conversations. On Sunday, I took Maddie and Giana to Downtown Disney – one of Disney’s giant vacuums that literally suck money from parents’ pockets. The girls had a blast and I was in heaven – my own little heaven.
Through the day, we all knew the worst was approaching, though – the time when we needed to say goodbye. The inevitable came in Maddie’s driveway as we exchanged hugs, and she went into her house. As she went inside, I knew there were tears – there always are. I looked down at Giana and knew she needed a hug. I lifted her up and her tears started to flow. I whispered to her that it was okay to cry. She responded, "It is for everyone but you. You keep your tears inside." With that, I lifted her fingers to the corner of my eye where a tear had already formed and told her, "Not all the time, honey. Not all the time."
I wanted to tell her about the times when I’ve cried like there was no tomorrow as Maddie and I said goodbye. I wanted to tell her about how my heart breaks as I watch Maddie walk away. I wanted to tell her about the gaping hole in my heart that is only filled when we are ALL together – the now five of us. I didn’t tell her, though, because that is not her pain to bear. She knows that she has a big sister she loves and who loves her. She knows that they don’t spend nearly enough time together. That’s enough for her.
For me, the story is different. I keep most of it inside, where it hurts less. I worry about Maddie constantly, hoping that my physical absence from her daily life does not hurt her too much. I wish she were here with me – with us – but I know she is happy with her Florida family and friends. I work hard to make the most of our time together and our time apart. I have become quite adept at the language of text messaging – the preferred choice of communication of all teenagers.
We all have struggles in our lives – loss of loved ones, divorce, and depression. We all have a proverbial cross we bear. We can best deal with these struggles by reframing them. Instead of focusing on the pain of leaving Maddie, I choose to focus on the fact that we had a great time together and that we will see each other again soon. I’ve talked with my girls about making the same choice. These are conscious choices we make. It isn’t always easy, but for me it is better than the alternative.
As you deal with the struggles in your life, strive to find your little heaven.
Dr. Pistoria is chief of hospital medicine at Coordinated Health in Bethlehem, Pa., and an adviser to Hospitalist News. He believes that the best care is always personal.