The Wheel of Life by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Author:Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2012-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

My Mother

It should have felt perfect, the picture of contentment. In 1969, we moved into a beautiful home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright’s firm, in Flossmoor, an upper-class suburb. My new garden sprawled over enough land so that Manny and the kids gave me a mini-tractor for my birthday. Manny loved his new study and installed a great stereo system so I could listen to country music while puttering in what was my dream kitchen. The children were enrolled in an outstanding public school.

But it struck me as almost too perfect to be right. It was like a dream that I expected to wake up from. Then one morning I did wake up knowing the source of my angst. Here we were in the land of plenty, where we wanted for nothing, except that I had not passed on to my children the thing that had been most important to my own childhood. I wanted them to know what it was like to get up early in the morning, hike in the hills and mountains, appreciate the flowers, the different grasses, the crickets and butterflies. I wanted them to gather wildflowers and colorful rocks during the day and then at night let the stars fill their heads with dreams.

I did not wait and ponder what I should do. That would not have been me. Acting swiftly, I took Kenneth and Barbara out of school the next week and flew home to Switzerland. My mother met us in Zermatt, a charming alpine village where automobiles were prohibited and life was pretty much as it was a hundred years before. That is what I wanted. The weather was heavenly. I took the children on hikes. They climbed mountains, ran along streams and chased animals. They picked flowers and brought home rocks. Their cheeks were sunburned. It was an unforgettable experience.

But, as it turned out, not because of that. On our final night, my mother and I put the children to bed. She lingered for some extra goodnight kisses and hugs while I stepped out onto the balcony. I was rocking in an old hand-hewn chair when the sliding doors from the bedroom opened and she joined me in the fresh night air.

Both of us marveled at the moon. It seemed to be floating over the Matterhorn. My mother sat down beside me. We were silent for the longest time, thinking our thoughts. The week had been better than I had imagined. I could not have been happier. I thought of all the city dwellers in the world who never made the effort to see such a remarkable sky. They tolerated their lives by watching TV and drinking alcohol. My mother looked equally gratified, both in the moment and with her life.

I do not know how long we sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company, but my mother finally cracked the spell. She could have said a million things at that moment, anything except what she did say: “Elisabeth, we don’t live forever.

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