Skip to main content

Its About Suffering

I remember when over fifty years ago, before I was age of ten. My Mom would lament, "Do not ask why you are here..." Then she would give me three reasons to live. Yes, that's what she did. She started saying this to me by age seven. 

Funny enough, it was not in response to anything about me, personally. It was as if the thought just crossed her mind. Although as a child back then, I had no clue. 

I had no clue that it was what was inside of her. She was asking herself, 'what was her purpose.?'  

The purpose of Her existence she queried. I can say fully well, she had every reason for that query. I'll explain.

There are a multitude of reasons why she wondered about her purpose. Four years ago, my husband realizing some unrelenting horrors of my mother's life from the word go. He commented, "Your mother had a horrible life." He wagged his head and continued, "She couldn't get a break between her childhood, and her adult life." I nodded, "Yeah. I know. Thats why I do what I do." He truly was aghast upon such realization. And I saw his wonderment of her purpose in his eyes.

I'd seen that look on his face before. And on other people's faces. As if to ask, 'Why this? Why now? How cruel...?'

I remember nearly thirty years ago, I sat with a doctor trying to figure out my physical pain that everyone was misdiagnosing. She remarked, "Anyone else would be feeling sorry for themselves. But you won't do that. Do you?" I replied, "It's a waste." 

Just a few years later, my Dad remarked similarly, "Why don't you just feel sorry for yourself?" I replied, "Why would I?" He shook his head. I continued, "It's kind of negative. You know..."

One day about twenty-five years ago Coach Tom Fleming asked, "How come you don't go away to hide your wounds and recover? You know animals do that for protection. They go into their cave to heal. Then they come back out when they're all better."

I replied, "I'll never give in. If I hide, then my enemies will know I'm wounded. But if I act as though nothing is wrong. No one has a clue. And besides, I want to be a champion. Even if no one else believes I have that potential. I'll only know if I try. So, I refuse to lay down and cry." That same look of wonderment appeared on Tom's face. That same look in his eyes of wonder that I'd seen before from others. 

Throughout my life since my mother told me 'Her' three reasons for existence. The three phrases haunt my mind, in quiet times. I refer to haunting, because they are not my thoughts.  

I've asked myself, 'Why do I have to witness suffering of others?' I know there's a purpose there. And I've wondered if others comprehend such. I witness what I consider the obscure. As if an outsider looking in. It appears I see the world as a whole. I step back and wonder why others exist. Am I in their world? Are they in my world? Is all this so tangible? Am I looking at lies? What is the illusion I am missing? Why are people so insecure? Where are the manifestations of their lives emanating from?

Deep, Huh?  

Going back to my mother. She was a genius. Literally. She was a savant of sorts. Playing the accordion by ear. Picking up a foreign language, easily. Her reading exploits. And her understanding of Algebra. 

And had she lived to see her grandchildren, she would have given them a run for their money. I laugh, every time I think of that. When I get aggravated, I tell our daughters that. 

I think, I could have stood back and let her parent them. Yes, the woman that would have saved a fly's life, climbing up on a couch, nearly falling, damaging herself to calmly get the ant, the spider, the fly, safely out of the house. 

She abhorred any form of weaponry. She was a total anti-gun person. A stubborn Catholic, who loved children. Hated The Pill. But believed women owned their bodies. And she wouldn't stand in the way of any woman's decision that they may make for themselves. She had no opinion. Or rather, she felt judgement of another was an ill event. And a sad commentary of the human condition. 

Meanwhile the childhood atrocities done to her, to set her up for a disastrous future, if any. Lay on her and in her. That may appear deep. But for me, it's plain as day. It's about suffering. There are all forms of suffering. And my wonderment is about how I feel about viewing other's suffering. I have realized that I am the witness to those that suffer. I suffer well at the view of their suffering. 

But yet, I believe in weaponry. The tangible and the intangible weapons. It is from what I've felt deep inside and witnessed. Been around enough weaponry and trained in much of it. However, I do love children. And I have stupidly climbed up on couches to get a bug safely out of our home. And at times feared if it were too cold out, to put the bug outside. Maybe, just maybe that might be the final straw that sends me to eternal hell.---Jody-Lynn Reicher 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Completion of Humanness

Completion of Humanness As we arrive to the completion of the first year without Norman, I had decided long before he'd passed that I would continue to do things certain things he liked yet could no longer do. I decided I would not take a day off of fitness.  I would run at least for 500 days in a row. I began that in early 2020.  I'd not be concerned with the distance I'd run. It was the very thing I convinced Norman and the thing that mattered to him, from the very first discussion we had August 11th, 1981, was fitness. I loved that he was a College Boy. He loved that I was a Marine. We tickled each other's soul with such admirations. Later fitness continued as an old discussion from 1994 ...getting outside and to run no matter what. I would say to him, "Run 200 meters, then 400 meters. If it doesn't feel good, stop. Turn around and walk back home and know you did your best. That is all you can ask of yourself." I said this,  knowing he would get dow

In My World

As I finish putting away the week's groceries, I contemplate other's lives. Aside from my two daughters,  I consider what may be other's lives.  How they have conducted their lives over the past two years.  This is a thought not unusual for me to have. Yet, it occurs more often than not. Especially  now, as the population is probably feeling ever more irked. Regarding perhaps. their illusion of any lack of their freedom. But isn't that what life is about? The illusion of who we are. What we are about. Where we stand on the planet. Who we love. And who loves us. Our significance. Couldn't we imagine if this were all just an illusion? Sounds like a "Twighlight Zone" episode, perhaps. My aim here, are the thoughts of reckoning. I'll explain why I'm claiming such a thing. For about twenty-eight years of a career in dealing with injured athletes,  pain patients, chronically ill and the terminally ill. I found that there were many people who lied to

Reicher's 2021 Holiday Letter

  11/23/2021... The Reicher Holiday Letter... Yes, finally I'm on time...LOL. As the late November wind whips and the delayed leaves fall to the ground in our neighborhood, I await the first sign of snow. I stand outside, begin a run, do outside chores, bring in the mail and sniff the air for the smell of snow. Yes, humans can smell snow. Just like a spring rain approaching. It is awaiting to provide a cleansing of the dreams that need to be refreshed or re-routed. It’s all how you look at it. Really. Oh, the word ‘really’.   Per a few grammar writing geeks. A good writer is not supposed to use the word, ‘really’. I’ll say it again. Really? There is another word I discovered this year, not supposed to be used in writing by writers. I cannot at this moment remember what word that may be.   But I’m sure, it’ll arrive in my mind as I write this Holiday letter to you all. A reading audience. Where to begin this 2021 Reicher Holiday Letter? I’ll start with our smallest resident. T