We Should All Be So Lucky
Mimi died today.
Mimi is the Italian matriarch of my ex-husband”s family, and although I did not keep in close contact with her after the divorce, I loved that woman so much. I met her when I was 30 and she was in her 70’s and we instantly liked each other. For seven years she was my family. We spent holidays and birthdays together. She watched my kids grow, and she celebrated them. She taught me how to make Christmas cookies and candied walnuts, but mostly she showed me what a long life, well-lived, looks like.
In my family, we die pretty young. I never knew my grandparents, and my kids never really knew theirs. Mimi died at 92, having been with the love of her life for almost 80 of those years. She had four kids, four grand kids and she was enjoying round three of the circle of life and reproduction.
We should all be s,o lucky.
Mimi was smart and funny and the most generous woman I have ever known. Mimi made all the best food and kept take-out containers so she could send you away with your fill of it. Food is love and Mimi loved hard.
I loved the times she would share her wisdom with me.
“Karen, there is no way I am starting a complicated recipe at this point. I am not buying anything to use in just one recipe. After 70, you just want your life and your spices to come out even.”
“Karen, the secret of good baking is double the butter, double the sugar.”
“Karen, don’t get frustrated, you have beautiful kids – we should all be so lucky.”
“Karen, don’t spend your first 40 years collecting stuff you just have to uncollect in the next 40 years.”
She wasn’t flashy or pretentious, she was just good. She was the essence of a beautiful and meaningful life. A life where you make the world a better place by simply doing many small, beautiful, kind things every day. She taught me a lot about who I was and who I could be. I just loved her.
My oldest two kids and I went to see her about a year ago and she was delighted. She hadn’t seen me in almost ten years, but remembered me in detail:
“Karen, you have always loved kids, are you still working with them?”
“Karen, how are your sisters?”
“Karen, what kind of art are you doing?”
Her husband did not have the same recall, but his loving kindness remained intact. He thought my son was his for a while, but eventually admitted: “I don’t remember who you are, but you are all very good looking.”
We laughed. That made sense. Even through the fog of a brain no longer serving him well, he knew how to make our day. Mimi laughed too. She only ever looked at her husband through the most joyous lens. Loving him, and appreciating him, and enjoying him. She taught me how sweet a long-term relationship can be.
I am so, so fortunate to have had this woman in my life. Even though my marriage ended and we no longer counted each other as family, she had guided me through raising young children and was there for me when I lost my own mother. She showed me, by example, by advice, and by a welcoming and warm grace, that kindness is maybe the only thing that really matters.
She was deeply loved and she will be deeply missed. She most definitely made the world a better place by just being in it.
We should all be so lucky.
