feeds
You know the moment when words from a poem or a song match your mood, or they are the catalyst for some personal observations?
Well, it happened to me again in my car on my way to pick up my daughter from pre-school.
It was a beautiful afternoon with a balmy temperature of 80 degrees in the car and I was enjoying the fall scenery on route.
I love this weather. Sorry friends in Albany and the N.E. Dearly though I love you, I saw the snow on TV as the Titans played the Patriots at Foxboro. I remember how early cold weather can be an indicator of many months of winter weather ahead. And that part I don’t miss at all.
Back to the song – it was “Wind Beneath My Wings” sung by Bette Midler from the movie “Beaches.” I listened to the song and cried.
The movie is the story of two close women friends. One who had public success and one who made different choices; whose life was lower key. It’s a story of misperceptions and miscommunications.
The person who lived her life in the public limelight admired the intelligence and spirit of her friend. She was her “hero” and she didn’t even know it.
However we measure our successes – money, education, recognition, promotions, car, house, etc. – I guarantee you, we don’t really see or acknowledge them. We only see material success and think we can do better. We strive for the next goal without taking time to recognize our success with the present challenge.
We don’t see ourselves through other people’s eyes. Do you know you’re a success to someone, whatever you think you may, or may not have achieved? Do you know you’re their hero? Many of you don’t know this.
Most of us will never experience the heights of public success – winning the Nobel Prize, being on the Supreme Court, being a celebrated scientist, or winning an Oscar. Our success may be lower key, but just as important.
We are the “wind beneath the wings” for our children, families, friends and communities. We’re the heroes, who continue to support them. We’re not faceless entities, but people your community and loved ones see and celebrate.
A new friend, who is fast becoming a very good friend, lost her dear friend – a woman too young to die – and her dear friend’s two young sons to murder and arson.
I didn’t know the family and I don’t have adequate words to comfort my friend in her grief. I feel my friend’s profound loss keenly and share in a collective grief – a natural response to lives lost in tragic circumstances.
What I do know is my friend’s dear friend and her sons were more than just a news report on the local news. They meant something to their family, friends and community before their deaths. They are even more precious to them now they are gone. They were not nameless people. Their lives meant something. They left their mark. And they were heroes to somebody.
So, as you think about my words, hold your loves ones close. And next time you berate yourself for something you didn’t achieve, remember you’re a hero and mean more to people than you will ever know.
SUSAN S. CHEUNG
Susan is a writer originally from London, England. She moved to Nashville, Tenn. in July 2008 when her husband accepted a position at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. The family relocated after eight years in Guilderland, New York. And now they have a new home in Franklin, Tenn.
