It is almost dark on January 15, 2009, and I am sitting in our front
yard waiting for our Christmas lights to illuminate. I suspect the
HOA, "Letter of Complaint" is already in our mailbox. I really don't
care. After all, Theresa and I have a good excuse. We did not hang
the Christmas lights on our home. To take those lights down would
close the chapter on a precious friendship that started 15 years ago. I am just not ready. After all, these are very special Christmas lights.
The first time I met Theresa's mom, Helen Mok, she was in her kitchen. The kind of small Formica countered kitchen in Parsippany, New Jersey where you immediately feel safe. I loved to sit in the corner of that kitchen with the chairs crowded around the table. The intimacy conveyed safety and caring. It was there Helen was at her best. She absolutely loved cooking multiple dishes of the most incredible food you could ever imagine. Home made Chinese dumplings, noodles, soup,steak, shrimp, fish - it was always a never ending food fest. I always told Helen her kitchen was my most favorite place in the entire world
Helen's quiet grace and sense of caring for her family, are qualities
I will never forget. I think every guy dating a woman tends to, "check
out" her mom. After meeting Helen and finding out what was important to her, I knew I was going to marry Theresa. I know all you guys are wondering....Yes Helen was Henry, Ocean, Tom...(HOT).
Unfortunately, in one of life's cruel turns, Helen developed stiffness and pain in her right calf that seemed to linger and not get any better. In fairly short order, the pain began to spread and she was diagnosed with ALS, (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis). ALS has no known cure. It is more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. At that time, a very close friend said, "ALS has got to be the cruelest disease ever". I thought at the time, "It really can't be that bad". I was so wrong.
ALS can be very painful and a fast moving disease. It progressively
shuts down all the muscles in your body. I also learned a person's
brain is not a muscle, so the entire time your body and muscles are
withering away your mental capabilities remain as sharp as a tack.
You know exactly what is happening.
Helen's husband, Theresa's dad, "Jimmy" was simply unbelievable. He did everything humanely possible to ease her burden. I have no doubt Jimmy would have carried Helen in his arms for a hundred miles, if it would have made a difference. Fifty years of marriage and raising five beautiful children together will do that to a man. Unfortunately, everything her family did was to no avail.
Helen was never a complainer. Despite ultimately not being able to
move, she never lost her grace, determination or sense of humor. Helen
expressed love for her family and quietly passed away on December 8, 2008, in Denville, New Jersey.
Following funeral services we returned to San Diego very late one evening, just a few nights before Christmas. It was unusually damp and cold. Our family, (with Jimmy in tow), pulled into the driveway of our home in 4S Ranch. We were all exhausted, hungry, and quite honestly heartbroken.
As we set our luggage on the kitchen floor, we were shocked to find
there was a Christmas tree with ornaments and lights on in the living
room. As we looked around we saw candy, fresh fruit, flowers and even
a case of Corona beer. All of our boys, Troy, Raymond, and Ryan began running around announcing all the things they were finding. They even ran outside and and plugged in the Christmas lights that someone had hung on our home.
In the glow of those darn, multi-colored Christmas lights the boys
looked at Theresa, Jimmy, and I and asked as only innocent
bright-faced young children can speak, "Who did this? Why did they do this to our home? Where did they get all this stuff? Did they buy it? Was Santa Clause here? Dad, can we eat the candy"/
I looked at Theresa and we were both speechless. I knew if I tried to
explain to our children right then, the tears would come. So I took
the easy way out by saying, "Just give us a minute and we will get
back to you. And yes, you can eat the candy".
A while later, we had the boys sit down and explained how lucky we
were to have caring friends and neighbors that brought the true spirit
of Christmas into our home. I cannot help but reflect on how pleased
Helen would have been to hear this story. The love of family is what
meant the most to her. To our dear neighbors, words do not adequately describe the appreciation we felt for each of you. These events are weaved into the fabric of of our lives.
As I now sit here in the front yard, I realize that even if I do take
those Christmas lights down, Helen will never be forgotten. With the
closing of the chapter, yet another one opens. I just need to hear
Theresa's incredible laugh or look into her eyes and Helen is still
there. I guess it is time to get the ladder. I know I can get Jimmy
to give me a hand. He never says, "No".
For further information or to donate to help find a cure for ALS, go
to ALSA.Org.
Sincerely,
Ray & Theresa Shay
