CELIA WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME

[schlomo]

Celia Will Always Be With Me

When I got into the elevator at the medical lab the other day, I met two extremely frail elderly women each huddled and bundled in a wheelchair and both accompanied by caretakers. As we all began to chitchat (the elevator is the slowest one I have ever encountered), I found out that the invalids were 98 years old. I congratulated them for their longevity, but I did not want to converse any more with them because they seemed so pitiful.

When I left the elevator, I reflected on Celia, our “adopted” mum who recently died at 101 years old. My wife and I had routinely spent quality custodial time with Celia, a British woman who was about the same age as the forlorn-looking women in the wheelchairs. But what a difference! Celia, regardless of her multiple ailments, was engaging and energetic, still able (at age 100) to revel in the birthday bash her son had provided for her at the Waikiki Elks Club.

Celia used to spend hours with me on Sundays, reminiscing about her family-centered early childhood to the horror of the Blitz, from her time in Israel right after the Six Day’s War to her settling in La Jolla, California, with her adoring husband; and from there, moving to Hawaii. Throughout all of these sessions, Celia reminded me that her greatest asset was gratitude to God for allowing her to flourish for so long and to give her the wisdom to see the goodness all around her.

Celia did not subscribe to the Shakespearean motto “Brevity is the soul of wit.” She loved to elaborate on her life, unearthing gems along the way.  And she gave just enough specifics to highlight her feelings.

The next time that I have a chance to speak to very old people, I’ll try to be more gracious: it is not fair to compare them with Celia. They too might have inspiring and provocative life histories. And I have experienced first-hand what an abundance of commonsense a Centenarian provides.