Mum and Dad's 60th anniversary was last week, and although all of us kids and grandkids went down to visit them in Nova Scotia for their 50th ten years ago, it was somehow difficult to convince my brothers that we needed to celebrate them again this year. In the end, just the three of us ended up going to visit and Ken and Kyler insisted that our presence was present enough; no physical gifts. The best I could do was to have a "Milestones" announcement on their local news station (which Mum and Dad didn't see until I sent them a link to the Milestones website because they don't watch the news live anymore? Side note: Kyler said he loves this [the only picture from their elopement wedding day] "Because they look like movie stars.") I also asked my brothers to take pictures of their families with anniversary greetings that I could upload to Mum and Dad's digital frame, and that also seemed like asking a lot. To be fair: Ken is dealing with terminal cancer and Kyler has (presumably) chronic lyme (so hard to get a proper diagnosis when the medical establishment denies its existence; private doctors don't mind taking his money for treatment though) and neither of them is in top shape. But still, it was their 60th.
As I wrote in December, Mum had a large part of her colon removed last fall, and at the time, she wistfully spoke about "lasting" until February and her diamond anniversary. And even in the three months between my last two visits, she has become much more frail, and perhaps even more worrisome, she's struggling to find words while talking (which she is very aware of, it's not quite like my late mother-in-law's dementia — where Bev would hit a mental block and freeze or ignore it — for Mum, she kept stopping, struggling and thinking hard, and then saying with a rueful smile, "I'm having trouble talking now.")
So it was kind of a big deal that Dad agreed we could take them out for dinner; something we haven't done as a family for many, many years. We made a reservation at a local restaurant — not wanting the strain of driving too far to get to an actually nice place — and the food and atmosphere was all good enough. Dad tends to like to make remarks at such times, and this is what he had loaded for us:
As you know, your mother loved having babies, and I asked her the other day what she had looked forward to most about becoming a mother. And she said, "I was just so excited to see what they would look like."
So I asked what she thought when she first saw Kenneth and she said, "I thought, well that's a little man. That's just what a little man looks like." (Mum is smiling and nodding along to this.)
So then I asked what she thought when she first saw Krista and she said, "Well I thought, what a sweet bundle of joy. She was always smiling, never cried, just a bundle of joy."
And finally I asked what she thought when she first saw Kyler and she said, "I remember asking the nurse if babies are supposed to have noses that big."
And we all laughed, with Kyler saying, "I was waiting. I knew I'd be the punchline." And in the end, between the laughs and storytelling, there was something kind of special about it just being the five of us.
Although we had all flown in on the Saturday, Kyler had to leave on the Monday morning after this dinner (he really is so busy), and as Kyler's property on the lake is Ken's favourite place on Earth, we spent most of the next fews days out there, with a couple more quick visits into town to visit with Mum and Dad. Ultimately, it didn't really seem like enough to me, but I feel the need to defer to my brothers (and especially Ken) right now. A few days later, Dad sent us this email:
we want to let each of you know how we feel about the wonderful experiences you provided last week. there was abundant love and joy and it will not be forgotten. we are not always able to respond in kind any more having reached our best before dates. your kindness will always be remembered.love mom and dad
So maybe it was enough in the end? Looking at how frail Mum looks in that picture, maybe it was all either of them could handle. Sixty years: that ain't nothing. Here's hoping Mum makes it to her 80th birthday in May, and that everyone can — and will want to — go out for another visit.
