Who do you want to be when you finish growing up? What do you want for the last years of your life? How are you going to get it? The day we celebrated Carmel's life, I got a sharper view of my plan.
Although most of her card- and domino-playing friends had already passed, when my husband's grandmother died in March at almost 97, family still called on her frequently, not out of obligation but because they wanted to.
She was the easy favorite. We all hated to see her go.
It was at her memorial service when I realized, that's exactly what I want for my later years: to matter to the people around me the way she did. To be trusted and included and enjoyed. May sound like an obvious choice, but lots of people spend their final time in this world sad and alone.
So if I'm going to "begin with the end in mind" -- Stephen Covey's sage advice from my old favorite, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People -- then Carmel's life is an excellent blueprint. How did she get the ending I want?
This Mother's Day week, I interviewed several of the people who knew and loved her best (mostly her grandchildren) to find out, "What Would Carmel Do?" Here's what they said:
She listened
Carmel was never the star of the show, and wasn't one to hand out advice or grandstand about her political or religious opinions. Instead, she forged quiet and intimate relationships by paying close attention and remembering important details.
"She sincerely wanted to know what was going on in our lives."
"MaMaw was easy to talk to about real problems because she wasn't judgmental; it wasn't about her."
"Her focus was on YOU."
She was present
No phoning it in for MaMaw. It's humbling to hear how ready and willing she was to get herself out and WORK, especially for the people she loved.
"I could count on her. Hard times or family tragedy -- she was just there. MaMaw was solid."
"When I had my baby, she didn't make a big fuss about coming, she just showed up and took care of him while I healed from the surgery. There wasn't a lot of advice, but she really helped me when I needed it most."
She was accepting
Although strong in her Christian faith, Carmel wasn't preachy or judgmental; she was more interested in caring for people than pointing out reasons why they didn't measure up. This made her company a welcome and calming relief.
"I always knew that, for her, I was good enough. I knew she loved me."
"I think one of the reasons everyone visited her is that there was no pressure. She was happy when you showed up, and she was sweet when it was time to go."
Regarding inlaws: "To her, family was family." (She certainly made me feel like a full-fledged granddaughter. We shared recipes and talked about cooking at every visit.)
She was happy
And by that I mean, Carmel chose to be happy. She certainly knew hardships. A child of the Depression and widowed in the last thirty years of her life, she never had much money or a celebrated job, but that didn't seem to matter.
Even when she was way past eighty, she still wanted to hold and play with the babies. She still wore pink blouses and pretty jewelry, and fixed her hair. Trips and plans and fun were expected, not just wished for.
Bottom line: Carmel didn't give up on enjoying life, even when she was tired and achy. (Wow, I deeply admire her for that. You and I are going to be tired and achy someday too, you know.)
She was connected
Carmel was genuinely involved with others and made it a point to know them*, which is why some of her grandchildren still mistakenly reach for the phone to call her when there's good news or a story to share.
"She always knew when I was telling her bull, and I loved the miscievous twinkle in her eye."
Whether it was fishing or camping trips, card games or dominoes, people felt Carmel's love because she put in the time -- face-to-face, one-on-one.
"Once when I was going through a really rough patch in my teens, she took me bathing suit shopping. She knew all about what was going on, but not a word was said about my trouble -- no psychoanalysis or cheery advice -- she just let me pick something really pretty. I knew she loved me no matter what."
She lived one day at a time
I wasn't around then, but I hear that after her husband died, Carmel got through it just like that -- one day at a time.
Instead of giving up and checking out to wallow in the past, she embraced her new independence and kept living, kept connecting. In so doing, she was a terrific example of how to survive difficulties with grace and a clear head.
What kind of "end" do you have in mind? Do you have a plan to make it happen? I don't think it's ever too late to start one.
Come and think it through with me this Thursday (see sidebar). We'll do some exercises that highlight what matters to you most, and then set goals for a better path. I hope you'll take this opportunity for quiet reflection. We always have a good time, and you'll feel better for it. See you there!
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* "Best toast in the whole world; I thought all grandmothers had a secret stash of cinnamon sugar."
One last element to Carmel's success (and another reason I want to emulate her life) was her cooking. She cooked what her loved ones liked to eat, and it made them feel special.
It was with warm and happy sighs that the grandkids remembered her fried fish (with peanut butter in the batter!) and venison, pimiento cheese sandwiches and chocolate pound cake, handmade with love, just for them.
Here is Carmel's recipe for pecan pie . (I tell you, it is THE BEST). You might want to serve it next Thanksgiving, or anytime you want to be admired. :)
