Being Patient Can Mean The World To Others

Waving Goodbye To My Aunt Margo — A Short Story

My impatience to 'succeed' often caused me not to see people for a long time. I  loved them in my head instead of being there for them in reality. One such person was my mother's only living sister, my lovely aunt and godmother, Margaret or 'Margo', as family and friends knew her.  

Margo, a petite redhead,  was a beautiful soul with a wicked sense of humour. Like millions before them, she and her new husband, Jimmy Kennedy, emigrated in the late 1950s from an economically depressed Ireland to find work in the U.K. At least once a year for the next 50 years, she made the trip back to Dublin from her home in Luton, Bedfordshire.

Despite enduring many hardships, Margo's placid demeanour projected ease and calmness. My mother, Polly, was the opposite. She was drawn to excitement, and despite being known as a bit of a  character by friends, relations and neighbours, she sometimes found life overwhelming.

 Polly hated all things domestic. I suspect she found the life of a housewife to be boring. She was more attracted to life's sparkly and glamorous side, including following the fashion of the times and reading the latest gossip on Hollywood stars. She didn't drink or smoke but loved socialising, especially if dancing was on the agenda.

Our home was often full of drama, especially when my mother had an acute attack of 'nerves'. But, even as a young child, I sensed that she was unusually happy when her sister visited. In the 1960s and early 1970s, before  Margo began visiting Polly on her own, she travelled with Jimmy and her four boys to Dublin by boat and train.

As soon as my mother spotted Margo disembarking from the boat at  Dún Laoghaire Harbour, where she, my father, and us four boys waited excitedly to meet all the Kennedys, an unmistakable sense of peace descended on her. For the next week, a harmonious atmosphere in our home remained until shortly after Margo and her family sailed home to England.

My aunt's patience and genuine love for us all, especially Polly, were, I believe, the key reasons my mother calmed down in her presence. We could all sense that love by the special way she looked at us. It came from her soul and shone with deep affection and care through her eyes.

It was this love my mother picked up on that positively affected her well-being, at least temporarily. Margo was happy to do whatever my mother wanted. She sat for hours in our kitchen, listening attentively to my mother's news and stories, never growing weary, as they sipped tea and ate my mother's favourite treats of home-baked apple tart or shop-bought overly sweet coffee cake.

I was very fond of Margo, but all the same, I still carry a certain pang of guilt for not giving her the attention she deserved. I'll never forget one day as she stood on the footpath outside our family home, chatting to me through the open window of my car and looking at me with her look of love. But, I was impatient to get back to my office to work on some stupid 'urgent' matter, so I tactfully ( I thought) wrapped up our chat and waved her goodbye as I drove off.

I immediately felt a pain in my heart. I knew I had made a mistake by not staying longer to chat with Margo. I saw her extraordinary loving look in my mind's eye and, for the first time, realised I wouldn't always have her on this earthly plane. I still feel guilty when I think about that time rushing off on Margo. Luckily, I had a few more years to make amends by being more present with her before she died in 2018.

Life is Better For You and Others When You're Patient

'I've been telling you for twenty-seven years, you need to slow down,' my late wife, Cushla,  said to me once again after receiving another one of her knowings (a higher form of knowledge she drew from deep within her soul). But, it's only recently that I realise the price I have paid for being speeded up and impatient. Rushing into business projects and alliances that could only end in tears and not being fully present with friends and family, including my aunt Margo, are just some of the times that haunt my memories.

Despite my lesson with Margo and the countless times I messed things up by being impatient, I have to admit that I'm still speeded up and impulsive to this day. Sometimes I think that instant gratification takes too long!

But I'm trying to learn. I'd witnessed the benefits patience had brought into Cushla's life and those around her, especially in her later years. Despite, at that time, bearing a mysterious and debilitating illness, she still cared for two of her disabled siblings and her mother when she developed dementia. What's more, she did it with gentleness, grace and forbearance, which are the quintessential acts of love and kindness.

A Psychological Perspective On Patience

Knowing Cushla for twenty-seven years, I wasn't at all surprised to find research that suggests patient people tend to be more cooperative, empathic, equitable, and forgiving. 'Patience involves empathically assuming some personal discomfort to alleviate the suffering of those around us,' write Debra R. Comer and Leslie E. Sekerka in their 2014 study.

One of the benefits for patient people themselves is that they tend to be less lonely. They are also better at making and keeping friends who generally require a healthy dose of patience with all their faults and quirks. 'Patience may enable individuals to tolerate flaws in others, therefore displaying more generosity, compassion, mercy, and forgiveness,' write Schnitker and Emmons.

Better interpersonal relationships are just one of the benefits of being patient. In Patience Part Two, you will discover that self-control, peace of mind, greater happiness, and gentleness are just some of the other benefits of this unrated virtue.