My Life Across the Table (7 page)

Though I have read for thousands of people over the years, and all over the world, this story is, by far, the saddest reading I have ever given. This reading taught me about the paralyzing consequences of fear, and how powerful free will can truly be. All we have to do is make a choice to confront the fear of change that takes up residence in our mind. I learned that on any given day, we can heal our pain and change our circumstances by putting forth even the slightest effort. It only takes a moment to make that decision, and by taking even a baby step forward, we can change our life.

Many people have touched my life in some way, but few as deeply as a lady I met one cloudy winter day in New York City.

I was blessed with a truly wonderful mother. She was born in Brooklyn, and had a New Yorkers sensibility. Because of her, I carry within my heart a deep and special love for everything about New York.

During a highly active bicoastal period in my life, spanning almost twenty years, I can honestly say that I never experienced a single moment of boredom in the Big Apple. Just walking down the street there is an experience.

Having lived in some of the most beautiful cities in the world, I still feel that there is simply no place that feels anything like New York City. It vibrates with a life, and energy all its own, and without a doubt remains one of the most magical, exhilarating, passionate, and diverse cities in the world.

For several years my home in Manhattan was a suite at the Mayflower Hotel, a lovely, older hotel across from Central Park. It was the perfect location for me and provided easy access for my clients.

I was practically around the corner from ABC television, the studio where I often shot The Morning Show with Regis Philbin, and a short taxi ride from ABC radio, where I had become a frequent guest on a variety of callin shows.

Over the years I have had the opportunity to meet with people from every possible walk of life. From garbage collectors to aristocrats, cat groomers to movie stars and everything in between. One thing I know with certainty is that every single human being has a purpose in this world, and contrary to popular belief, everybody’s life is different.

I have often wondered how any of us survive our childhoods. When emotional traumas are inflicted on the young, intentional or not, those experiences can leave scars that are carried well into adulthood, unconsciously impacting every part of a person’s life.

We all have them. Some people wear them on the outside, by making themselves emotionally and/or physically unavailable. They unconsciously erect a protective shell of some kind, to keep people away.

For others it manifests as a deeply profound emotional and spiritual pain that continues to paralyze their lives at every turn.

There have been a few clients over the years, whose scars have left me with an indelible sadness that will forever make my soul weep.

Marta Alberts was one of those people.
It was late in the afternoon when Marta lightly knocked on my door. Possessing a soft, old-fashioned energy, she seemed to carry quiet within her very being.
A tentative quality guided her steps to my sofa, and in some unconscious way, she reminded me of my grandmother. It wasn’t a literal physical resemblance, but more in the way she carried herself, feeling much older than her years.
Marta was somewhere in her mid-fifties. She was thickly built, wearing a dark grayish brown dress, below the knee, with an embroidered Peter Pan collar and a thin belt fashioned from the same fabric. She wore black, functional shoes with sturdy heels that laced up the front. She wore no jewelry, except a small oval faced silver watch, with barely readable numbers, and a slim, flexible band.
She wore no make-up, not mascara, not lipstick, nothing. Her hair was a mousy brown, with an occasional wild gray hair, pulled back in a home-style bun. She had a soft full face, beautiful skin, with large, expressive hazel eyes, natural eyebrows, an inherited jowl, and a body that was more round than svelte. There was something old-fashioned, yet very beautiful about her to me, and something incredibly sad.
Smiling, I held my client sign-in book and one of my business cards out to her, “Did you bring a tape?”
Taking the open book, and card from my hands, she responded in an expectedly soft voice “No, I don’t think I’ll need one.”
Cheerily, “Well, I hope you have a good memory, because I cover a lot of ground.”
She finished signing my book, quietly closing it, as she held it out for me to take. Crossing her legs at the ankles she finally looked directly at me, “So, how do we do this?”
When our eyes met, the air in the room suddenly became thick. The cool crispness replaced with an unexplainable heaviness.
Taking the book, I looked away to place it on the coffee table, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears. I took a breath, grabbed a Kleenex to dry my unexpected tears, and mumbled something about allergies. Excusing myself for a minute, I slipped into the bathroom, certain she wouldn’t understand the overwhelming sadness I was feeling, any better than I did at that moment.
I came out of the bathroom with a couple of Kleenex gripped firmly in my hand. Settling in my chair across from Marta, I sputtered out an excuse, “Sorry about that, the tears just seemed to leap out of my eyes, it must be an allergy attack. Now, if you have something you have worn for a year or more, like a ring, watch or keys, we’ll get started.”
Quietly she reached into her purse, extracting her keys. Holding them in her hand, she placed her hands in her lap, making no move to give them to me. More directly this time, she repeated her original question, “So how do we do this?”
I had been so flustered by the sudden wave of tears that it took me a minute to respond, “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, you did ask me that. Well, I hold your keys for a minute, I do a quiet little meditation, and then I start your reading.” That wasn’t detailed enough for her, “Do you need any information from me? Like my date of birth or anything?” I guess she expected something else. Many readers light candles and incense, or want you to take off your shoes. They might request that you not cross your arms or legs during the reading, as it might block the energy. They may have a crystal they hold, or want you to hold, or they want your birth information. I don’t do any of them. I say a silent meditation that takes about one minute, hand back whatever object the person has given me, turn on the tape recorder if they have brought a tape, and start talking. Every reader has rituals. Silently reciting a meditation prayer that I wrote many years ago, is my only ritual.
I held my hand out for the keys, “No, just your keys, please. Hold on for a second and you’ll see.”
Marta watched me cautiously, as she placed her keys in my open hand. Closing my eyes, and my hand around the keys, I silently recited my meditation prayer.
There is an order to the importance of issues in every reading. It is not my decision, nor do I randomly choose where to start. The order always shows itself during my meditation, when I step into the energy for the person and begin.
If my client has brought pictures of anyone they want to know about, or documents, contracts or business cards, I place them in front of me on the table before my meditation, or starting their reading.
Every reader works differently, for me, giving a reading is like “being there.” It is as though I step “into their life” for the duration of the reading, and am with them in the experience. I seldom look at, or focus on the pictures and other things, until I have thoroughly dealt with the most important issues first. When I am finished with those, I proceed to the photos, contracts, business cards, etc.
Occasionally a client will ask if they can, or should bring a list of questions. I tell them to go ahead and make the list, but to please keep it in their pocket or purse, until I am finished. If I haven’t answered all of the questions on their list, I will gladly answer them when I am done. I have found that I have usually answered everything, and then some, on the list.
Marta brought no photos, no documents, contracts, business cards, and no list. Just Marta.
An enveloping sadness came over me during my meditation for Marta’s reading. In one small, synchronized movement, I opened my eyes, while pouring the keys into her outstretched palm, “What a lovely home you have, it feels like you have lived there all your life.” I walked through the rooms of her home in my mind, describing in detail what I saw.
Carefully choosing my words, “You have had so much loss. I keep looking at a bedroom in your home, set up like a hospital room, but I see several different people in the same bed, but at different times.”
She was very still, tightly clutching the keys in her hands, clasped rigidly together in her lap. Marta barely murmured, “Yes that’s right. It’s my family home, and it’s the only place I’ve ever lived, and yes, you’re right about the bedroom, too.”
I couldn’t look in her eyes or I would have burst into tears. I shifted my gaze to focus on the gray New York sky hovering outside the window. The weather seeming to reflect the emotion I felt for this lovely woman. “You have been the caregiver, not just for them, but for everyone in your family. I see an older woman, and then a man. They feel like your mother and father.”
In barely a whisper, Marta confirmed my words, “Yes, they were both in that room.”
I could hardly get the words out as water filled my eyes “They were sick, and then left, back to back,” turning to look at her as the first tears tumbled down my cheeks, “You took care of them all by yourself. I don’t see any brothers or sisters, no other family to help you. Just you.”
Her voice was barely audible now, as tears began spilling from her eyes, “I was an only child, so there was no one to help me.”
Realizing the sadness had finally overtaken both of us, I reached for a box of Kleenex on the table, holding it up between us. Now, I understood what I had been feeling for her, and why.
I knew at that moment that the weeping between us wasn’t going to stop, until I finished her reading. “I see that you lost both of your parents within a very short period of time, and I am looking at another elderly man in that bed now. He feels like your uncle.”
She was weeping quietly, “Yes, he is dying now, too.”
The tears kept flowing as our tissues piled up in the trash, “It’s almost over, sweetheart, and you know he is getting ready to leave. Oh, I’m so sorry, Marta. This has been going on for more than ten years, the illness, the loss, and then the cycle feels like it has repeated over and over again, and now with your uncle.”
Her words seemed to come from someplace far away, “Yes, it has been going on for a very long time, and I know it won’t be much longer for my uncle. I will miss him terribly, because he’s the last one left in my family.”
I needed to look at another area of Marta’s life, or I was going to drown in my tears. “I want to talk to you about your job now. Do you work around a lot of books? I keep seeing you surrounded by books.” Lowering my voice, “I want to whisper when I talk about your job. It feels so quiet there, are you a librarian?”
Sweetly now, “Yes, well actually I’m a medical librarian, and it is very quiet there.”
I saw the light in Marta’s eyes as I spoke, “Well, you know you can stay there as long as you want. I see that they’re modernizing the facility, so there will be some new procedures you’ll be required to learn, but aside from those little issues, you definitely have security there. Wow! You’ve been there a long time, and they just love you.”
Marta was beaming with pride, “Yes, I’ve been there over thirty years. It’s the only job I’ve ever known, and they are such nice people to work with. After all this time, they’re almost like my family.”
I moved forward, “I know you don’t travel much, but do you ever get away? Even for a weekend?”
Marta looked surprised, “Oh, I’ve never been out of New York! I’ve gone between Brooklyn and the city my whole life. I’ve never traveled anywhere, Karen.”
I was overwhelmed by the incredibly small world Marta lived in, and had lived in her entire life, “Not even for a weekend? Haven’t you ever wanted to travel?”
She was composed now, “I wanted to travel once, but then I got my job, and who would take care of my family if I went away somewhere?”
The sadness I had fought off earlier loomed in front of me once again. I could only tell her what I saw, “I don’t see a husband or boyfriend here, either Marta. You’ve never been married.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
Pain underlined her every word, “No…No husband. I’ve never been married, but you knew that Karen. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
I thought the grief in my heart, for the tragedy of this beautiful woman’s life was going to completely overtake me. I could barely speak. Fighting the onslaught of tears was simply useless, as I was certain I was drowning. Once again diving into the box of Kleenex, only this time I was grabbing them by the handful.
Marta’s lonely, empty world of duty and denial, threatened to swallow me whole.
There were no more tears from Marta. She looked at me with quiet concern in her eyes, “Are you okay, Karen?”
My body shook, wracked by gut wrenching sobs, as I buried my face in a wad of Kleenex, trying to choke out my anguished words, “Why did you come to see me? I can’t tell you that anything is going to change. I can’t make something up.”
She was quiet for several minutes. Her steady gaze watching as my body shook with pain and grief, for her.
When she finally spoke, her words were soft, and filled with resignation, “I just wanted confirmation, and I knew you would tell me the truth. I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. I am sorry this is so painful for you, but this is my life.”
Realizing how calm she was, and how completely resigned to her life she truly was, began to quiet my grief, “Oh Marta, I wish I could change something for you, but I cannot. You were a great gift to your family, do you know that?”
A faint smile crossed her lips, “Yes, and they were wonderful parents. They were my gift.” In a way I couldn’t begin to understand, she felt more peaceful, “Thank you for this.”
I was incredulous, “This what? You are thanking me for telling you this is your life, and nothing is ever going to change?”
Marta’s smile brought an abrupt end to my tears. Clearly we looked at her reading through very different eyes, “Yes, I know this is my life, Karen. I only wanted confirmation, and that is what you gave me. I knew that my life was never going to change, and I got exactly what I came for, so yes, thank you.”
We talked for a few minutes without tears, before she went home to take care of her uncle. Marta’s life had remained, exactly as it had been an hour and a half earlier. She was content and peaceful with her reading.
I however, had been deeply affected, and forever changed by the circumstances of her life, and by what I had experienced in her reading. The sadness she left me with never really went away. Even now, as I write her story, I cry when I think about the tiny world she inhabited, for almost sixty years.
This beautiful woman had never traveled more than five miles from her home, and never would. The same home she had been brought home to as a newborn was the only one she had, and would, ever know. She had nursed both her mother and father, for many years until their deaths, and was now taking care of her terminally ill uncle.
This was her life.
All of the circumstances in Marta’s life saddened me. I wished so much more for her. I wished her a bigger, fuller, emotionally fulfilled life, but that was not the destiny she had chosen. This was.
There was one tragic reality of Marta’s life, the one that has impacted me deeply, since the day I met her. The one I weep over, still.
This warm, smart, kind, beautiful woman had never known any other love except parental. No one had ever so much as held her hand. She had never loved or been loved, and had never experienced so much as the passion of a lover’s kiss. I knew with great certainty, Marta had never known the joy of being in love, nor would it ever be a part of her life.
Marta continues to teach me about the choices we make in life. She repeatedly made choices over the years that further served to compact her life, and had always consciously chosen the safety of certainty.
Surely there are many different, less certain roads along life’s journey, yet when no emotional risk is ever taken, and certainty becomes the only choice ever made, we greatly diminish our lives.
By never stepping outside of what is comfortable and familiar, we miss experiencing the immeasurable richness and growth that love can bring into our lives.
When I think about Marta, I think about the fear she clasped so closely to her chest, and her emotionally paralyzing fear of change. Her fear had become the foundation, and motivation in her life, enabling her to relinquish total control of her life, to circumstance.
Her fear dictated her fate. Marta chose to turn the part of her life as caregiver of her family, into one hundred percent of her life. My sadness was in knowing she had quite consciously closed off all other experiences, and always would. There was no risk. She continually used fear to isolate herself, never allowing room for anyone to help her with anything.
She consciously never allowed herself a personal moment to feel joy, and for me, the greatest tragedy of all was that she had spent a lifetime denying herself love. I pray in some small way that I helped her find peace. I bless her every day for allowing me in. By showing me her sadness, by experiencing her paralyzing fear of love, I learned from Marta, how truly empty life is without it.