The Journey Home (The Parting Glass Part 2)

The last time Mary was on a plane was the day her father died. Today, he was with her. She was taking his ashes back home.
 
His homeplace was the West of Ireland, in a tiny village near the Cliffs of Moher.  He often spoke about how he missed the lush fields and hillside that rolled into the sea.  His family home overlooked the beautiful Liscannor Bay.  Now it was time for him to return to the place he loved. 
 
Mary watched out the window as the plane began its descent into Shannon Airport.  She always knew when they were getting close.  The clouds turned to mist and she could see the unmistakable patchwork of vibrant shades of green lined with white stone fences. 
 
Her father’s death had come as a shock, a sudden heart attack that no one expected.  Everything had been so chaotic, this trip would give her some time to finally process her grief. 
 
Her cousin met her at the airport to take her to the farm.  Mary remembered that drive well from all the visits to see family over the years.
 
Every time she was there, she felt like she had stepped back in time.  She marveled at the quaint little villages, memorials marked with Celtic crosses and occasional ruins of old churches and castles along the side of the road. 
 
Mary remembered something one of the neighbors had told her when she was a girl – in Ireland whatever thrives here, stays here.  Mary never forgot that.
 
When she arrived, the family had gathered to welcome her.  She stepped into the small farmhouse filled with people. Tea, sandwiches and cakes covered the table and counters.  The fireplace filled the house with the odor of peat.  She felt like she was home.
 
After greeting everyone, Mary decided to walk down to the water just to clear her head and remember her father on her own.
 
She was startled when she heard a voice behind her.  It was their neighbor.  “I’m very sorry to hear about your father. He was a dear friend,” he said.  Mary was taken aback as the man handed her an old silver pocket watch.  “This belonged to your Da. He gave it to me when we were young.”
 
As she held the watch, she began to cry.  When she looked up the man was gone. 
 
When she returned to the house, she asked about the man.  She wanted to thank him for the lovely gift.  “Oh no dear, you must be mistaken, he passed on many years ago,” said a woman sitting at the table.
 

The Parting Glass

You never know who you will meet…

“I know it will be rainy and probably cold,” she thought to herself as she shoved an extra wool sweater into the already bulging bag.

She was not happy about going to Ireland in the middle of winter. A last-minute work trip was bad enough, but an overnight flight out of Chicago was going to be a nightmare. 

The snow was already coming down, and she knew that meant they would probably get stuck waiting at the airport.

“Mary, your taxi’s here,” her mom called from downstairs.

“I’m coming,” she said, grabbing her suitcase and backpack. “Tell Dad I love him and I’ll see him when I get back.” She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek and ran out the door.

Jack was waiting at the check-in counter when she arrived. “The flight is only 15 minutes late, so we should be fine,” he said, trying to calm his frazzled coworker.

“Let’s grab a drink at the bar.  Maybe a little alcohol will help you relax,” he grumbled.

“Okay, since we’re going to Ireland, I’ll have a Jameson,” quipped Mary.

As the bartender gave them their drinks, an older man sitting at the bar raised his glass and cheered, "Sláinte!"

Jack turned quickly and said, “They’re getting ready to board, so we have to go.” They downed their drinks and went to the gate.

“I really need to use the restroom,” said Mary.

“Let’s get on the plane and then you can go,” said Jack, growing more frustrated.

Mary tried to move around the people boarding while she waited for the toilet. “Finally,” she muttered to herself, jumping into the open stall.

As she washed her hands, she noticed the paper towels were stuck tightly inside the dispenser. She pulled down to get a few out and cut her finger on the edge. She was bleeding.

“That’s just great,” she said sarcastically. She wrapped her finger with the towels and opened the door.

Standing in front of her was the old man from the bar.
“Well now, dear, you’ve hurt yourself,” he said, taking her hand.

Mary shuddered - his hands were like ice. She pulled away and hurried back to her seat.

Jack was already half asleep. When she told him what happened, he shook his head and mumbled, “What man?”

Just then, Mary’s phone rang. It was her mother.

“Hi Mom, I’m on the plane. Can I call you when we land?” 

“Mary, it’s your dad,” her mom said, sobbing. “He’s gone, honey. He had a heart attack right after you left.

Before he passed, he said the strangest thing - he said to tell you to put a Band-Aid on your finger.”

The Stanley Hotel - A True Ghost Story

It was a lovely spring day, and my friend was coming to Colorado for a visit.  We decided to go to Estes Park for the weekend. 

 
We talked as we drove up the mountain and he asked if this was where “The Shining” was filmed.  I told him I wasn't sure, but I thought it might be. 

It was a glorious day - blue sky, beautiful scenery, and the perfect way to begin our trip.

As we approached the overlook of Estes Park with the Rocky Mountains rising in the background, it was truly a spectacular sight.

We drove toward town and noticed a striking white building up on the hill.  Neither of us knew what it was, so we decided to investigate.  

Driving closer, we marveled at the perfectly manicured grounds and then saw the sign that read - The Stanley Hotel.

We agreed that we had to see it but were sure that it would be too expensive to stay there.

As we entered the property, the massive white gates opened to a large outdoor patio.  Inside, the lobby was beautifully decorated with big leather chairs surrounding several huge stone fireplaces.  Antique tables with fresh flowers brightened every corner, it was warm and inviting.  

We inquired about the rates and were surprised that they were offering a special price for the night, so we decided to stay.  

After checking in, the desk clerk informed us that the hotel was haunted and that they had ghost tours in the basement after dark.  We thought it was amusing and a good tourist attraction but declined.

Climbing the stairs, we noticed the air changing, it became heavy and dense.  The brightness of the lobby faded as we walked toward our room.  

When we opened the door, we were immediately struck with the closeness of the space.  Not only was it very small but there didn't seem to be any air circulating at all.  

We knew that this would not be comfortable and asked to change rooms.  They moved us to a large, beautifully appointed suite with a great view of the mountains. 

We enjoyed a luxurious meal downstairs at the restaurant and continued to marvel at the wonderful surroundings.  We planned on going into town later and do some sightseeing, but we never left the hotel.  

Throughout the evening, several people approached me saying I looked like someone they knew.  

When I went downstairs to the restroom, I felt a chill in the air.  The entire time I was there I felt as though I was being watched, it made me very uneasy, and I hurried back to our table.  

My friend laughed when I told him and reminded me about the ghost tours.  I thought it was funny, and quickly put it out of my mind.  

It was getting late, so we decided to go back up to the room.  As we sat and talked, I felt a sudden draft of cold air and looked to see where it was coming from.  

I was shocked when I saw an apparition of a man step through the doorway of the bathroom and disappear.  

Before I could react, my friend asked if there was someone behind him.  Standing over his shoulder I could see the faint outline of a young girl.  We both were stunned, not sure what was happening.  

Slowly we began to speak, this felt like a child’s spirit nothing malevolent, but terrifying just the same.

Suddenly, the energy changed dramatically.  The room filled with cold air and a bright light flashed across the wall and splashed on the bureau mirror.  It felt as though dozens of very angry people were trying to get into the room. 

We were both in shock at what we were seeing and feeling.  It was 2:00 a.m. and checking out in the middle of the night seemed strange, but we could not stay any longer.

It was a relief to see the friendly night clerk at the desk. 
 
When we told her what happened, she said that it was a regular occurrence because the hotel really was haunted.  She had seen some extraordinary things herself. 

We talked to her for some time, hoping to calm down before driving home.  

She said she was not surprised that I had a bad experience.  She told me that I looked very much like a woman from the hotel who passed away many years ago.  
 
We drove back down the mountain in silence.  Years later, I still think about what we encountered in that strange and dark place.  
 
I have never returned to the Stanley or to Estes Park.
 

Dolly Parton

Dolly Parton passed away today...

The earliest memory I have of her is watching her sing on The Porter Wagoner Show when I was a young girl.  I was stunned when I heard "I Will Always Love You" for the first time.

On Saturday evenings, we would go to visit my mother's friend Margaret and her family.  There was always country music playing at their house.  Sometimes Margaret's husband would push the furniture out of the way in the living room so we could dance before the adults went into the kitchen to drink and play cards.

There were always a lot of kids, and we knew that if we were quiet, we could stay up late. We'd play hide-and-seek and any other games we could think of.  It was so much fun.

As the night went on, there would almost always be some sort of argument in the kitchen.  We never knew what it was about, and sometimes there would even be a fistfight, so we understood that we had to stay out of the way until it was time to go home.

When I heard the news about Dolly, my mind immediately went back to those wild nights.  All the love, family, friendship, music and mayhem of my youth.

Lightness of Being

 I’m not sure if it was turning 70, surviving cancer or simply having lived enough life to understand that there is nothing worth sacrificing your peace and well-being over. 

Through the years, I have done what most people (especially women) have done.  I’ve taken care of everyone else, until there was nothing left for me.  Always at the bottom of my own priority list, I was too spent and exhausted to do anything else. It’s no surprise that it took this long for me to discover what was right for me.

Now, something has shifted and I feel a sense of ease that I’ve never known. It doesn’t matter if it is cleaning the house or going out with friends or family, if I don’t feel like doing it, I just let it go. 

The big surprise for me was that I actually get more done.  The less I demand of myself the more I am able to accomplish.  It changes from ‘Have To’ to ‘Want To’ and it gives me permission to enjoy whatever I choose to do with my day. 

Getting there hasn’t been easy. I still have the ghosts of ‘I Need To’ haunting my mind.  How many things were left undone during my cancer treatment and recovery were weighing heavily on me.  I felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of tasks that were put on hold.  I made lists and project plans to get it all accomplished.  Doing all of that didn’t make me feel better, it actually made it much worse.  Now, I had written proof of what I had not done. 

Gradually, I started to reassess all of those self-imposed requirements. Asking myself the really tough questions like “What exactly will happen if I don’t change the closet light bulb?” When I started looking at it through that lens, it all became very clear, these were wants not needs and it began to soften the expectations I had set for myself.

How silly I felt, after all I had been through, that I was letting something so minor steal my peace. So, I looked again at those dreaded lists and realized that absolutely none of it was critical.  Yes, they are things that I would like to eventually do or better yet have someone else do, but not right now.

Today, I was thinking of cleaning and doing laundry but what I wanted to do was to sit and write down how I was feeling about all of this.  Kind of like the buddy system with exercising.  If you do it with someone you are more likely to continue.  Sharing this helps to reinforce the fact that I really can do exactly what I want to do and nothing catastrophic is going to happen.

Days of multi-tasking and rushing to get things done are mostly behind me now.  If I’m in a hurry, it’s because I’m doing something fun.  I’ll happily be quick to get ready for a fantastic outing with my daughter and not give a second thought to that laundry basket.

I realize more than ever that my time and energy are priceless and that all that matters is that I enjoy this incredible lightness of being. 

Has your perspective in life shifted as you’ve gotten older?  What changes have you seen in the way that you move through your life?
Share your stories and join the conversation!

Published on Sixtyandme.com

Scars

Inside and out, my scars are the most cherished part of me.

They are my battle wounds, healed yet still tender from what cut me.

Never to be forgotten, not to be ignored, they are my greatest strength and a gentle reminder of all that came before.

If you look closely, you will see the beauty that came from the pain.

Butterflies and Philosophers

I didn’t have posters of rock bands or movie stars on my walls as a young girl. Mine were French philosophers (Camus, Sartre, de Beauvoir) and beautiful butterflies in every shape and shade imaginable.

It might give you a hint as to what kind of child I was - curious, a little dreamy, caught somewhere between deep thought and flights of fancy.

I loved big dreams paired with delicate things.

And now, after all these years… I still do.

Life Celebrations

Today we celebrate the ancient tradition of “Eostre.”

It began as the pre-Christian festival of spring and fertility – the rebirth of life after winter. 

The rabbit and egg were classic symbols of fertility and new life, used to honor the Vernal Equinox by many different cultures.

While traveling to other countries, I have been fascinated to discover a common thread, the ancient origins of the traditions we practice now.

One of the most striking examples was in Ireland, at the Hill of Tara and Newgrange. At these beautiful and sacred sites, you can see both Pagan and Christian beliefs honored. 

Respect for all is a true celebration of life.

Clearing

 It is Springtime in the Rockies and every year around this time I am filled with excitement and anticipation. I can feel the energy of new life making its way toward the warmth and sunshine. 

Native Americans called it the "Quickening" that time when life stirs just before birth.

This is when I begin my clearing to make room for what is to come. Mentally, physically and spiritually cleaning house, preparing for that wondrous new growth.

It is time to sort through everything that has been carefully stored away. I must bless and release those thoughts and things that hold me in the past so I can continue on my journey.

Winds of Change

I always look forward to the Ides of March and the change that it brings. 

Not the dark, foreboding of Julius Caesar but the positive, life affirming transformation of Spring.

Flowers are peeking out from the thick blanket of snow that fell last night with the promise of warmth in the air. 

I have learned to welcome each new season and appreciate that everything must change in order to grow.

Happy New Year

With a new year, fresh start and new beginnings - all things are possible. 

I don't make resolutions, but I do like to set intentions.

This year I want to broaden my scope and clear some space for something new.

I am ready to trade the rituals and traditions that have served me so well in the past for a future that is unknown and limitless.

Now, I feel the need to explore in a way that I never have before.

Not just in the world, but within myself.

Wishing you a New Year filled with love and joy!

Christmas Magic

It was just a few weeks until Christmas and I could hardly wait.

We had moved into our beautiful new house, and I had my very own bedroom.  No more sharing with my annoying younger brother.

Mom was busy decorating and getting ready for the holiday.  I’m not sure I had ever seen her so happy.  She finally met someone who treated her well and even liked us kids too. 

Buzz was a kind man, quiet and gentle with a warm smile.  Walking in with his dusty work boots, exhausted from work, he was never too tired to pick me up and give me a huge bear hug.

We were living a life I could never have imagined.  There was so much food in the house we had to put another refrigerator on the back porch.  We didn’t have to worry about moving in the middle of the night because we couldn’t pay the rent.  Life was very good.

“You are not going to start another project this close to Christmas.” I heard my mom telling Buzz.

He was always working on something.  He built a new patio with a rock garden for mom in the summer and a mini playhouse for me and my brother.

Despite her protests, he began working.  

It was unusual for him to be doing it inside, but it was winter, so I didn’t think much of it. 

Mom was beside herself with the mess.  She had worked so hard to clean and decorate the house.  He had even pushed the Christmas tree off into the corner.

I was surprised and confused when I came home from school and saw that he was actually tearing down the living room wall. 

He and mom almost never argued but this was different.  There were pieces of wood and sheet rock everywhere.  I was happy I had a room to go to where I could stay away from it all.

As the days passed, mom accepted that this was going to happen whether she liked it or not. 

Just a couple of days until Christmas now and I was more excited than ever.  This was our first Christmas in the new house.

Behind the canvas tarps, Buzz worked away, he looked like the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain.

He even enlisted my brother to help with his “secret project”.

I was a little jealous that I wasn’t included but I kept myself busy playing with my dolls and reading in my room.

Finally, it was Christmas eve.  I knew this year would be special, but I had no idea how much. 

After dinner, mom sent me and my brother to our rooms.  “We have something to do before Santa comes, so you have to stay there until we tell you to come out,” she instructed. “And no peeking,” she nodded to my brother.

Presents, it must be our presents we both thought. 

When she opened the door, she told me to close my eyes.  Gently guiding me, we walked into the front room. 

When I opened my eyes, I saw the most incredible fireplace I had ever seen.  

That is what Buzz had been working on.  Whoever had lived there before had covered up the fireplace with a wall.

It looked like something out of a fairy tale – the fire was glowing with twinkles of light reflecting on the hearth.

Under the tree were two boxes, one for me and one for my brother. 

We didn’t usually get to open any gifts before Christmas morning, so this was another unexpected surprise. 

My box was not wrapped, so it was easy to just open the top.  As I did, up popped the most beautiful little gray kitten in the world.  

Immediately I began to cry, as I carefully lifted her out of the box.

“Is she really for me?” I asked in disbelief, petting her gently. "I think I'll call her Thumbelina because she's so tiny," I said.

My brother grinned at me and began opening his package.  It was a toolbox with real tools to build things, he was thrilled.

Mom smiled and watched quietly as we laughed and played.  Buzz reached down from his rocking chair and lifted me, still holding the kitten, into his lap.

It was truly a magical Christmas.

Winter Solstice at Newgrange

As I moved carefully through the winding passage toward the inner chamber of the tomb, I was overwhelmed by the intense energy of this sacred place. 

The air felt thick with presence, as if the stone itself were guiding me inward. When I turned to look back, there was no sign of the entrance, no hint of the outside world, only darkness and curved stone embracing me at the center.

It was difficult to imagine how light could ever find its way here. 

And yet it does, patiently and precisely, once every year at the Winter Solstice, reminding me that no matter how dark the night, the light will always return.

 

Give Peace a Chance

Today is the 45th anniversary of John Lennon’s death.  It's hard to believe that so much time has passed and how much has happened.

I was 24 and remember vividly the cold December day that it happened.  It sent shock waves through my family.  

It was 1980 and as I walked through my neighborhood, there was a large poster hung on a front porch, trimmed with Christmas lights, sharing John’s message “Give Peace a Chance”.

Gratitude and Appreciation

We've all heard it many times and in many different ways throughout our lives. Count your blessings, give thanks, feel lucky for what you have, think of people who don’t have as much.  We understand the words, but seldom do we stop to think about what they really mean.   

When I started looking at my life in a new way it was very revealing.  As much as I thought I had been a grateful person, I realized I had been taking a lot for granted.  Not just the big things, but all of the small, seemingly insignificant things that make up my life.

I started focusing on very specific things to appreciate, like my morning cup of coffee.  I wondered, what did it take for me to enjoy that simple pleasure?  

It had to be grown, picked, processed, distributed etc. by others who made it possible for me to sit at my kitchen table with little to no effort on my part.

Pouring a glass of clean water, sleeping in a comfortable bed, turning on the lights - the list goes on forever.  There is so much to appreciate and be grateful for.

But what about when things go wrong?

The big shift occurred for me when I began to see problems as opportunities.  Something that would have upset me in the past, like an issue at work or something going wrong with my vehicle, became a challenge for me to find the best in the situation.

This was when I had to be more general and not so specific.  I was happy to have a job or a car, I felt fortunate to have the resources and ability to figure it out.  

I applied this philosophy to everything I could think of.  If it was a good experience, I thought about how much I appreciated having it.  When it didn’t feel so good, I thought about how grateful I was for the lesson and what positive aspects of it I could find. 

In the beginning it was a little difficult to always find the silver lining but with practice it became easier, and I’ve learned that even when I slip back into my old habits, I can quickly recover by simply remembering all that I have to be grateful for. 

I'm not sure exactly when it occurred to me, but one day, I began to really understand what it means to be truly grateful.  Not just for the good things but for everything. 

Test from the Universe

Just when I think I have learned something new, the universe gives me a pop quiz. A little test to see if I really understand the lesson or if I am merely going through the motions.

I have to pay close attention and not lose focus. As my awareness increases, I am able to see the divine and absurd in a way that might have previously escaped me.

Wanting something does not make it happen. Having trust and allowing it does, that is the real test. 

When I am challenged by doubt or disappointment, that is when I have to ask for help and release my resistance so what I want can come into my life.

Finding Peace in the Pause After Cancer

 A year ago, my life was very different.
 
I was still recovering from a previous Covid-19 infection and being treated for the atrial fibrillation it had caused.
 
I was looking forward to my follow-up appointments with my doctors, hoping to discuss ways to improve my quality of life and, perhaps, discontinue the medication that had caused me serious side effects.
 
After my check-up, the cardiologist agreed to let me stop the medication—pending one final test to confirm that there were no other heart-related issues.
 
That test turned out to be the one that literally saved my life.
 
It wasn’t my heart, but a small nodule on my lung that looked suspicious. That’s when the journey truly began.
 
After a series of additional tests and biopsies, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. Because it was detected so early, the doctor was optimistic—it was operable, and we would "treat to cure."
 
Those words resonated deeply with my daughter, who was with me at the appointment at the cancer center. 
 
In the days that followed, she continued to remind me of what the doctor had said. It hadn’t fully sunk in for me yet. I was still reeling from the news that I had cancer, overwhelmed with the memory of my own mother, who had passed away years earlier from the same disease.
 
What ensued can only be described as stepping into a hurricane—a force of activity, both physical and emotional, that pushed me forward through this process.
 
Now, just a few months later, here I sit.  Cancer free, contemplating what my new life will look like.
 
Part of me feels like I should get back to my life, but there is no going back to “normal”—not after going through that experience.
 
So now, I need to decide what I do want to do next. My instinct is to shift gears and move forward into something new as soon as possible.
 
The challenge is to just take a break and breathe. To actually take the time to feel and process all that has happened in such a short amount of time. To let what comes unfold organically and not try to rush through this.
 
Right now, I am trying to find peace in the pause.
 
 
 
 

How Covid Saved My Life

 Day 1:
 
When I first received the news that I had lung cancer, I felt very sad. After several tests, we suspected it was probable, but I had remained hopeful that it could still be benign. Now I had the answer.
 
Just hearing the word malignant is scary enough, but then you must accept that you have just been diagnosed with cancer.
 
As tears ran down my face, I quickly had to pull myself together. I needed to tell my daughter.
 
She is the one who has been by my side, giving me such beautiful love and support, and she will continue to be with me throughout this journey. The comfort of that is truly immeasurable.
 
As we talked and cried, a strange calm came over me. I wasn’t trying to be strong or brave—I just felt a sense of peace.
 
Maybe it was the first stage of grief that everyone speaks of—denial. But somehow, I felt like everything was going to be okay.
 
Day 2:
 
I wasn’t sure how I would feel this morning, but I actually slept very well—better than usual, which really surprised me. I always gauge my true feelings about something by how I sleep.
 
I’m very superstitious that way—if I have a major decision to make, like buying a car or a house, or attending a particular event, I always trust my instincts and follow the old adage: just sleep on it.

Any concerns or misgivings I may have tend to surface as bad dreams or restless anxiety throughout the night.
 
I woke feeling refreshed and ready to move forward with the rest of my life—somehow freer than I have ever felt before.
 
Day 3:
 
Today feels different. I didn’t sleep as well as the night before, and I woke up thinking about my daughters, which brought me to tears.
 
I suppose this is part of the process in this new journey. I need to give myself grace to feel whatever I am feeling.
 
Day 4:
 
Another bright and beautiful day. My outlook remains optimistic, and I am truly grateful for that.
 
Having my daughter’s incredible support means the world to me, even as I know she is struggling to control her emotions so she can stay strong for me.
 
This situation has brought up many painful memories. We lost my mother to the same condition at the same age over 30 years ago.
 
The most positive aspect is that we caught this early enough for treatment, making a cure a very real possibility.
 
How we even found this out is an interesting story. Last year, after being hospitalized with a severe Covid-19 infection, I was diagnosed with Atrial Fibrillation —a heart condition I had never had before.

As a result, I was prescribed medication. After a year of being symptom-free, I asked my doctor if he would consider taking me off the medication.
 
He agreed but requested that I undergo one more test to check for any heart-related issues.
 
That test revealed a non-coronary finding: a lung nodule that had been seen during my Covid episode but had not resolved and had grown.
 
That is how this journey began. Since then, it has been a whirlwind of tests and appointments—so much so that I have barely had time to really think about what is happening. That is helping to keep my spirits high.
 
Day 5:
 
Today, I woke up a little early, thinking about one of my last tests before meeting with the doctors next week. I am looking forward to getting this done—I am even a little excited.
 
I am staying focused on the exceptional care I’m receiving from the hospital, as well as the personal support from my precious daughter.
 
There are moments when I slip into that dark place and think about what this all means. I let myself feel it, but then I shift gears or distract myself until I return to the reassuring thought that everything will work out.
 
Day 6:
 
Today, the reality of my situation really sank in when I received the results from my test yesterday. It’s one of those moments where I’m grateful not to have had too much information beforehand.
 
Fortunately, the results appear to be good, but I’ll know more when I meet with the doctors next week. We’ll discuss all the tests and decide on a treatment plan.
 
For now, I’ll focus on resting and keeping myself busy, trying not to dwell on what I don’t know yet.
 
I have so much to be grateful for, which makes it easier to focus on all the wonderful things in my life.
 
Day 7:
 
Today is an emotional, weepy kind of day. I’m working on completing my will and last wishes for my family, and it truly feels like an emotional landmine. I really have to pace myself and take breaks when I start feeling overwhelmed.
 
So far, I have been fairly stable. I do have occasional bouts of sadness, but overall, I feel like I have been coping pretty well.
 
I am looking forward to meeting with the doctors tomorrow to discuss my treatment plan and prognosis moving forward.
 
Six Months later…
 
Today marks six months since my diagnosis. To say it has been a long, strange journey is an understatement—but it has led to the best possible outcome.
 
After undergoing surgery to remove the tumor, I am now cancer-free.
 
If not for the early screening that detected the cancer, this could have been a very different story.
 
I can truly say that having Covid-19 saved my life.
 
My deepest gratitude goes to the incredible providers who gave me outstanding care with kindness and compassion.
 
And most of all, to my precious daughter—who walked through this with me, side by side, laughing, crying, and everything in between—thank you from the bottom of my heart for being such a beautiful gift in my life.
 
Through it all, I have learned to embrace gratitude, trust in the process, and focus on what truly matters.
 
The love and support of those around us, the strength we discover within ourselves, and the unexpected twists of fate can all lead to something greater than we ever imagined.
 
And always, even in uncertainty, there is hope.
 
Have you ever faced a medical crisis or critical diagnosis? How did you cope? Did you receive the support you needed? Please share your stories and experiences.

Published on Sixty and Me
 

Women's Rights in America

Throughout my life, I have witnessed what I believed to be the dawn of true equality for women.

However, my hope turned into disillusionment when I realized what a slow and painful path it would be. For every step forward, it often felt like we took three steps back.

Now, in 2024, we find ourselves at another pivotal moment. Our reproductive freedoms have been rolled back by more than 50 years, reminding us that the fight for equality is far from over. 

It’s a painful reminder that our progress is fragile and that we must never give up our pursuit of what is rightfully ours - the Right to Choose!

My Choice

This story begins in early 1971. The Vietnam War raged on, while the Civil Rights and Women’s Liberation movements continued their fight against long-standing inequities in the United States.

Unmarried women faced significant discrimination when trying to sign contracts or purchase property on their own. Abortion was not yet legal except under very specific circumstances for adult women and not at all for minors without parental consent.

At 15 years old, I found myself pregnant and being driven to the doctor by my boyfriend for an abortion. He said this doctor would perform the procedure without my mother’s permission, but I had to convince him that I was mentally stable enough to make this decision on my own.

I was terrified and did not want an abortion. As I sat in the room, trying to cover myself with the thin paper gown, I desperately tried to think of something I could say to make the doctor refuse to perform the procedure.

After an emotionless discussion and a very cold examination, the doctor told me to get dressed and left the room.

A few minutes later, he returned. Speaking in the same flat tone, he said, “I’m sorry, but you’re too far along for an abortion.”

I was overwhelmed with joy and immediately began to cry. I now had to tell my boyfriend, who was waiting in the car. Knowing he would be furious, I let him believe that my tears were because we couldn’t go through with it.

A few months later, my daughter was born, marking the beginning of my new life as a mother.

Now, 53 years later, the issue of abortion and women’s reproductive rights is once again facing restrictions and is at risk of being subjected to increased government control.

In 1971, I had no choice. If I had not been six months pregnant, that doctor would have proceeded with the abortion, illegally and against my wishes.

Implementing and upholding laws that protect women's rights is essential for safeguarding our fundamental freedoms and opportunities. It empowers us to make autonomous decisions about our lives and our bodies.

The choice must always be ours.