Grateful

This afternoon I was able to have a quick visit with my stepmother, Judy Karnes-Fuchs, who is, essentially, in hospice at her son Matthew’s condo in Norwalk. I had no idea what to expect and was given the impression beforehand that she was in pretty bad shape. At first, I had ambivalent feelings about bringing the boys with us, because even though I knew seeing them might be a nice thing for her, I felt they didn’t know her well enough to be subjected to what I was sure would be a pretty unpleasant sight.

Thankfully, traffic, and other factors, made us run late, so the only option was to go directly up to see Judy in Norwalk. J. felt strongly that the boys should, in fact see Judy, and give her a hug, and ultimately I gave in and we brought them upstairs to see her.

I’m grateful for the traffic, and grateful for J.’s insistence.

Judy stood just behind Matt, pushing a portable oxygen tank along with her, the breathing apparatus in her nose. Although it was hard to see her in this condition, I realized that my mind had drawn much worse pictures for me than this. I gave her a warm but gentle hug, as did J., and the boys shyly came in and said hello. They then went out on the terrace with me, and we looked out over Norwalk Harbor, the sun glaring off the water in the late afternoon, before coming in and sitting politely on the sofa watching Scooby Doo as the grown-ups chatted.

I was grateful for the expanse of the harbor, and grateful for the quiet majesty of the clamming boat that made its way to the dock.

I sat next to Judy and we chatted. We talked about her health, sure, and the kind of care she was receiving from the nurse and social worker who come spend each day with her. But we also talked of other matters, as well.

Judy is an important figure in my life. She made me grow in the process of accepting her as my father’s wife. Everyone knew my mother and I had a special relationship, and I think because of that Judy and I were under the microscope when she and Dad got together.

She was nothing like my mother, and I was different from her three kids, but that was eventually fine for both of us. I stood with my father at his wedding in 1990, as his best man.

I am grateful to have stood at the altar with Hanno and Judy on their wedding day.

I grew to appreciate many things about Judy Karnes – her humor, her kindness, her warmth. She’s a singular individual; I haven’t met anyone else quite like her, and I don’t think I ever will.

By the end of our brief visit this afternoon, she was on a familiar topic – talking about how kind my father was, and how he rescued her.

I told her something then that I have been needing to say for all these years – for her sake and for mine. “Remember, Judy,” I said, “love is a two way street. Just the way you feel he rescued you, you rescued him as well.”

And it’s true. Judy Karnes and Hanno Fuchs rescued each other from loneliness, and became excellent partners to one another.

For that, I told her, I shall always be grateful.