After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive the spark of love.
A little while ago I had started to go out with another woman. It was really my wife's idea.
"I know that you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise.
The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother. She had been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.
That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
"What's wrong, are you well?" she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.
"I thought that it would be pleasant to pass some time with you," I responded, "just the two of us."
She thought about it for a moment then said, "I would like that very much."
That Friday after work as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date.
She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.
She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's.
"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."
We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.
After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entree, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.
"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said.
"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded.
During the dinner we had an agreeable conversation, nothing extraordinary, but catching up on recent events of each other's lives. We talked so much that we missed the movie.
As we arrived at her house later she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you."
I agreed.
"How was your dinner date?" my wife asked when I got home.
"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.
A few days later my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her.
Some time later I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined.
An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that I couldn't be there, but nevertheless I paid for two plates--one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you."
At that moment I understood the importance of saying, in time: "I LOVE YOU" and giving our loved ones the time that they deserve ...
Yesterday is a canceled check. Tomorrow is a promissory note. Today is cash ... Spend it wisely.
Ten years ago my mother lived 30 minutes away from me, and I made a commitment to visit her once a week. Then I got busy with the newsletter and other challenges in life and I stopped the habit.
This is in spite of the fact that my mother now lives only two minutes from my office. The article reminded me that this pattern needs to change immediately.
I was similarly saddened and motivated when I learned of Dr. Greene's death on ER last year. You can read my response to that episode if you want.
Virtually none of you reading this newsletter know my mother, but if you have benefited from what I have put on this site, you need to understand that you have her to thank for the information. If you feel led to send her a message, her name is Jeanette and her e-mail address is jan34@email.com.
My mother has no degrees; she never even finished high school. She also suffered some of the most extreme emotional and physical abuse from her own mother that I have ever witnessed in 20 years of clinical medicine. Largely due to her upbringing, she chose a spouse that tended to continue the abuse.
However, she was able to overcome those challenges and provide her children with extraordinary, tender, loving care. She was and continues to be full of unconditional love. There was virtually nothing I could do wrong in her eyes. She was supportive of any choice I made in life, no matter what it was.
I believe my passion for knowledge and reading stemmed from her reading me bible stories when I was 4 or 5 years old. I was her first child so she really invested enormous amounts of love and attention with me. I credit her deep love for me with the majority of the success I have been able to experience in life to date.
My mom worked as a waitress for most of her life and still continues to work in a grocery store bakery shop at the age of 69 (What a job for the mother of the author of The No-Grain Diet!). When I was growing up she worked nights, weekends and most holidays. I have many childhood memories of wishing my mom could be at home instead of having to be away from us.
There are so many wonderful things to do in life and life is so awfully short. One of the principles that I seek to abide by is to have enough margin on my plate to be able to say yes to the truly important things in life.
The only way to do that is to say no to many good things that life has to offer. Clearly one of the most influential and important mentors for me in this area is Dr. Richard Swenson. His book Margin is one of the most helpful books I have ever read. It is one of the best antidotes to burnout I have ever seen.
As the story illustrates, life is far shorter than we typically acknowledge. This is why many people buy life insurance "if they die," instead of more accurately stating "when they die". Not many of us make it off of this planet alive.
I am now challenged to reapply Dr. Swenson's principles and will be rereading his absolutely terrific book again very shortly.
My new challenge is that due to your support and the success of The No-Grain Diet my message will be heard by many new people. This is a good thing as it is moving me closer to the mission of facilitating the transformation of the traditional medical paradigm.
A large task for sure, but I am more than confident it is doable.