Matters of the Heart

Today is the anniversary of when I lost Bernice.
It seems strange to consider what a deep scar that loss left in my life, how very important and close to my heart Bernice was, and to know at the same time that she probably never had any idea who I was.  If she's up in heaven, maybe some angel is telling her, "some gal called C down there is saying all kinds of prayers for you today", and she's going, "who?"
Do you have people like that?  People who you care about, who matter to you, and you wonder if they have ever really seen you?  Or someone you've been nice to, or helped indirectly through a friend or a donation, or felt compassion for, or just respected or admired- though they may never have known about you at all?
Sometimes it can almost seem pointless, right? Doing for someone who will never thank you, hurting for someone who can't appreciate the sympathy, giving without a return.  Loving someone who might not love you back.
Or they might.
The not knowing can be difficult ground to walk over.  Does it matter that I'm here? Does it matter that I care?  Is it worth all that's difficult when I can't tell if I'm making a difference?
In little ways, all relationships are a bit like that.  You can always wonder if what you have to offer makes the impact you want to have.  You can always suspect that you're not loved enough, that you care too much, or feel like there's just not enough payoff for how much you feel yourself giving.
Parenting is certainly like that.  Will I ever know, even when She's all grown up and turned out, whether how hard I work mattered, really?  Whether She has any inkling how incredibly much I love Her, how hard I tried to do the right things for Her? Will She end up all messed up despite it all? Will She hate me or blame me or feel I failed Her, despite the fact that I put my whole soul into doing my best?
I don't know.  I might never, never know. 
A scary part about loving someone so much, is you can never get the credit you deserve.  Because maybe it's impossible for anyone to totally get how valuable they are to another person.
Little One can't tell me if I'm doing this mom thing the right way. Bernice was never able to say, "I'm glad you're here."  Most of the people I've reached out to over time...I'll never even know whether they are ok, much less get a medal from them in the mail for Trying Really Hard to be Helpful. 
So does it matter?  Is it worth it?  All this trying and loving and caring and worrying and grieving?
Well...I think so.
Bernice never knew my name.  But I remember a time she was in the hospital, covered in a tangle of wires and tubes in a strange room with beeping noises and flashing monitors, and when I got there she was FREAKING OUT.  The doctor was about to have her both physically restrained and doped up because they couldn't keep her from yanking out her IVs, screaming and swearing, and smacking the nurses when they tried to help her.  She was totally out of control.  But I had this feeling.  "Give me a minute" I told the doctor.  "Just let me see if I can help".  He was hard to convince, saying that she was too delusional to be responsive to anything, but he agreed I could have one minute.  I walked in and put my hand on her arm, and she froze.  I said her name, I talked to her like I always did.  "Hi, Bernice.  It's C.  I'm here to visit you, how are you doing?"  And wouldn't you know. She reached her frail, IV-bruised hand over to clasp mine.  She relaxed back in the bed.  Two tears slid down her gorgeously high cheekbones, and she rested against the pillow.  She didn't say anything back to me that evening. But she held my hand, and she was calm, and after a little while she fell asleep.  I'll never really know why. But I like to think it's because on some level, she knew I was someone safe.  Someone who loved her.
And I think the same is true about our children and our friends and family, and the homeless guy we smile at on the corner, and the kid in Haiti who gets a notebook because we bought some raffle ticket.  I think that even if they don't really know how much we care, or how much we've done for them, or even who we are, they do know that someone cares.  I think on some level we can all feel when we are loved.  Even a little.  Even from far away.
Though Bernice may have never known who I was, and even if I didn't do everything for her the way she would have wanted me to, I think that what I did do mattered because I believe she knew somehow that she was cared about; not totally alone.
And I think that it was all worthwhile because whether it all mattered to her or not, one thing I know for sure is that it mattered to me.  Sometimes when we love in the hardest situations, when maybe there is the least recognition or gratification for our efforts, we learn the most, and are changed the most, and have the best opportunity to realize the value of loving for the sake of loving, giving for the sake of giving.
Today is a good reminder for me of why it matters to love recklessly.  Even when it's easier to be a cynic, even when it doesn't feel safe, and even when it doesn't come back to me.  Even when it means grieving a loss.  Whether or not Bernice ever loved or remembered me, I loved her, I remember her.  And it matters.  Whether or however much Little One loves me when She grows up, I will always have loved her, and it matters.  Even if all of you don't know it, I love you Peanuts in some way as well.  And whether you can tell or not, it is mattering right this minute.  To you, maybe, and definitely to me.