We Shared a Peach
I found this ripe peach at the grocery store. The clerk reported the cost was $1.50! “Peaches are expensive this year.” he said. I didn’t care - nor did I understand why it was suddenly so important that I buy this peach. This very ripe delicious looking summer peach.
My dad was 103 and his health now required Long Term Care (LTC). I had moved him from assisted living to LTC a month ago but his care needs were changing rapidly. My decision to fly out from Oregon to Minnesota, where he lived, was to assist in relocating him to a larger room that had opened up and to better understand the health changes he was experiencing. Monitoring care from thousands of miles away is a challenge but we’ve been doing it a long time - and up until now, done quite well.
He had very little interest in food and was napping on and off most of the time. He had no appetite nor enjoyment of food. He was frustrated by that loss. Confused by that loss. So this day when he asked, “So what are we going to do now?” I replied, “We are going to have a peach!”
Preparing the peach was almost a sacred ritual, setting up the over the bed table with two plates and utensils. I slowly peeled the peach and cut it into bitesize pieces, dividing it between the two plates. The moment had almost a sacred “Last Supper” sort of feeling. At the first bite his eyes light up, he smiled and looked at the rest of the peach saying, “Now that is really good!” Such a small thing, to taste something really good. He finished it up with a smile and had a second helping. When he finished, he whipped his mouth with a napkin and declared, “Now that was really good peach. I enjoyed that!” Wow!
As a daughter, standing by watching this rapid health change in my dad, I was feeling powerless, helpless and alone. Our time together with the peach somehow became monumental. I helped him enjoy the wonderful taste of a summer peach. We shared that wonderful taste together.
Life is full of adventures, education, travel and work accomplishments; kids growing up, momentous family moments and transitions. But at the end of life, at the end of the final journey, there is only one thing - the present moment. During one of the last moments of clarity, lucidity and calm - we shared a peach.
“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek.” ~Joseph Campbell”