I only knew “Stacy and Aaron’s mom” for a short time, really just this past year. I call her that because I was raised never to call elders by their first names, and somehow, even at my age, I couldn’t bring myself to call her Diane. So I just found ways to call her Stacy’s mom, like I was ten years old. We shared a common lineage as women who earned our doctorates at Stanford, and I think that created a bond that only people who went there can understand. I think she liked me just a little bit because of that. I first really heard about Stacy’s mom when Stacy told me she was planning a trip to Patagonia despite her illness. I thought that was the craziest thing I had ever heard. A few months later, I finally met her when Stacy brought her to Equinox for a massage while Stacy and I went to yoga. She was already small and thin, and her illness was clearly taking its toll. But what I remember most were her eyes and the spirit that radiated from them. And suddenly, the trip to Patagonia made perfect sense. Her attitude wasn’t so much “I’m going to beat this” as “I can’t be bothered with this illness. I have a life to live.” And somehow, that was even more powerful to me. Just onward. Stacy, fix me up. Aaron, fix me up. I’ll fix myself up. Onward.
The last time I saw her, I came to Holmdel to pick up Stacy. And there was Stacy’s mom, making sure I had a bag of nacho chips for the ride home. She was thinking about us, but I also had the distinct feeling that she was perfectly fine and ready for Stacy and me to get on our way so she could get on with whatever she had to do next. Onward. I feel so honored to be even a small part of this family. We all need inspiration in life, and Stacy’s mom gave me something I will carry forever:
I can’t be bothered. I have a life to live. Onward.
