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SHE LEFT THE WORLD
A BETTER PLACE |
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The sweetest woman in the world is dying. As I write this,
she's lying in her bed in a nursing home 45 miles north of Montreal. Her
family, including my wife, is beside her, waiting for her to die.
She's not eating, and she can't hear or speak. But she can
see, and she feebly waves her hand when a family member comes into the
room. She is not going to get better and the end will come any day now.
She's my mother-in-law, and she's 95 years old. She's led an
extraordinary life in the sense that it has been extraordinarily simple.
And that's what I want to express as I wait for her to die.
There is so much pressure to live life to its fullest. Be the
best you can be. Travel the world, climb every mountain, make a
difference. We're only on this planet for so long---we need to make the
most of it.
Or do we? Ambition works for some, but not for others. My
mother-in-law lived her life with very little ambition, and she's going to
leave this world a better place regardless.
Marie Blanche Mondou Vaillancourt's obituary will list no
vocational accomplishments. It will list no charitable organizations that
she joined, nor any country clubs where she was a member. It will have
very little to say, because there is very little to report.
She never learned to swim, and never learned to drive. She
lived her life in a small town north of Montreal, where her husband and
his brother owned the general store. She worked the cash register and
prepared the meals. Her lifelong home was right behind the store. No need
to drive.
Born on a farm near Ottawa, the second youngest of seven
children, she didn't marry until she was 30, which was an ancient age in
those days. Making up for lost time, she had four children in five years.
She had to be the sweetest woman in the world to endure that experience.
And she is. That's her claim to fame, and what's wrong with
that? She has brought such joy to everyone who knows her. She hasn't saved
the world, but she's saved her little piece of it.
She never climbed the Himalayas, she never went white-water
rafting, she never even saw a baseball game. Her life was taking care of
her children and her husband. She walked from her house to the store,
where she worked until it was eventually sold.
She never went to Europe, even though she could have easily
afforded the travel. Her only indulgence was an occasional week's vacation
to a resort in Mexico or the Caribbean, where she would wade in knee-high
water and come back bronzed. That was it.
After my father-in-law died, Marie Blanche Mondou
Vaillancourt lived alone in the house behind the store. She would walk
each morning to the town restaurant, where she would have coffee and
gossip with the locals. The afternoons were highlighted by the soap opera,
"The Young and the Restless," which she would never miss.
Such a simple life. She never went to college, never had much
use for books. She wasn't political, or philosophical and she certainly
was no feminist. She just went about her business, with hardly a care in
the world.
There are so many ways to live life, and Madame Vaillancourt
chose to live the simple one. I once wondered if she had missed out on
things, but I don't wonder that anymore. She had her own agenda, and she
was happy with her choices. That's all that matters.
She created her own little world, with her family and her
friends, and she made it so much brighter with her smile and good cheer.
As far as I know, she never regretted a thing.
Now she's dying. It's too late to learn how to drive and to
learn how to swim, but it was too late 50 years ago. She lived her life to
the fullest, by her standards. If someone else has other standards, that's
their problem.
To all who knew her, she will be missed. The beautiful French
accent (English was her second language), the giggles, the twinkling eyes
and the radiant smile. When she takes that last breath, and it could be
any minute, I'm confident she knows that her simple life was a wonderful
one. And that all of us, including me, are grateful that she lived it.
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