Being a Presence

A mother is our first teacher.  They teach us all kinds of things from walking and talking to how to share and be kind.  Out of all the lessons my mom has taught me over the years, one of the best is “being a presence.”

“Being a presence” is simply that, being present. Sounds simple, but it is a skill to learn and develop, just like any other.

I got my first chance to learn and practice this skill when my dad was hospitalized for a week following colon surgery.  I opened his hospital room door with his favorite movies and cribbage board in hand, only to find him hooked up to lots of machines, IV’s, and sound asleep.  It was shocking and a bit intimidating to see all the equipment.  He was in no shape to watch TV, let alone visit with anyone.  I found my mom in rumpled clothes  and bleary eyes from a sleepless night in the chair next to his bed, like a sentinel keeping watch.  My mom was eager to have me take a shift with him so she could run home for a little nap and recharging.  

As she left said, “There is nothing to do, but be a presence.  Just sit here with him so if he wakes up he sees you here.”  Simple enough, I thought.  Be a presence.  So, I sat in the stiff chair by his bed.  There was little to do but watch the red blips and numbers on the monitors and watch the IV bags empty,  since the TV and music agitated him.   Reading was out since I didn’t bring a book.  So, I was present and simply sat quietly.  After while,  he opened his eyes, saw me there in the chair and mumbled something. Then he shut his eyes again.  That scene was repeated over and over that day.  As I sat and gazed at him resting, I realized that when people are sick, that is all they really want; just the comfort of your presence. No talking, no gifts, nothing you can buy, no sounds; just your presence.  That is the comfort they need.  As simple as that sounds, being a presence to someone can be draining, worrisome, and challenging.

This experience prepared me for the most challenging, worrisome, and draining time ahead. My son was in intensive care for several days following a sledding accident.  There was nothing to do, but be present as we waited to see if surgery was necessary. He had several broken ribs, a fractured scapula, two fractures on his spine, and a punctured lung.  That first night, tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched his monitors and his IV bag empty.  I realized the depth of my love for my child and how I wish I could trade places with him.  There was nothing I could do or buy to make him better. Being present was all that I could give, and be present I was.

Just a couple months ago, I was the recipient of my parents being a presence to me.  I had to have some outpatient oral surgery and had an allergic reaction to the anesthetic.   After the surgery, I recovered at my parent’s home, where I would be able rest. I settled into the welcoming down blankets and pillows on my their couch.   The anesthetic was still wearing of, chest pains subsiding, and the pain medicine was beginning to kick in. I felt myself succumbing to sleepiness of all the medicine.   As I began to snooze, my dad said, “I’ll be right here reading in the rocking chair.”  My mom said not to worry, she would be checking on me.  I remember feeling safe and content knowing they were there.  Each time I opened my eyes, I saw my dad in his rocking chair reading and my mom nearby.  Their presence was reassuring and comforting.

Being a presence, a lesson worth learning!