Something About Understanding

Should we live long enough, we may stop

along the way and ask of ourselves, how

should life be? For me, I saw my mother

pass away when she was only fifty-nine.

And at the time, I realized that I really did

not fully understand who she was, what her

life had led her to be. I saw her as a good

woman who had had a difficult time, and

sadly that for the most part, her physical

and emotional infirmities got the best of

her. Years later, having experienced similar

conditions, some of which I had inherited

genetically, I was forced to deal with my

own flawed predispositions. With my dad,

who had outlived my mom by some thirty

years, I could see the toll of his debilities

more readily. His advanced age only added

more complexities to those maladies he had

already faced throughout his life. Both mom

and dad got little if any professional help

with their emotional issues. Having been

raised Catholic during the Great Depression,

they were conditioned by parents, clergy

and society in general to accept their oft-

times plaguing distresses, to buckle down,

and pray for the strength and grace of God to

enable them in light of their struggles to

faithfully “bear their own crosses.” Although

I have never been opposed to a good prayer,

asking for strength now and again, I was able

to seek the help of medical practitioners

who understood the distresses of depression,

anxiety and addiction which I had experienced

throughout my life. Call it better late than never,

at nearly seventy-two years of age, I now more

fully comprehend what my parents, unbeknownst

to them in their time, had to live with all by

themselves. My advantage over mom and

dad was to understand that I did not have

to bear the weight of my inherent world alone.

Chris Hanch 1-8-19