In Giving I Connect

[Guest guest]

In Giving I Connect with Others by Isabel de

Novelist Isabel de was born in Peru and raised in Chile. When

her uncle, Chilean President Salvador de, was assassinated in

1973, she fled with her husband and children to Venezuela. de has

written more than a dozen novels, including The House of the Spirits and My Invented Country. Her most recent books include Zorro: A Novel and the final installment in her celebrated children's trilogy, Forest of the Pygmies.

"What is the point of having experience,

knowledge or talent if I don't give it away? Of having stories if I

don't tell them to others?"

All Things Considered, April 4, 2005 ·

I have lived with passion and in a hurry, trying to accomplish too many

things. I never had time to think about my beliefs until my 28-year-old

daughter a fell ill. She was in a coma for a year and I took care

of her at home, until she died in my arms in December of 1992.

During

that year of agony and the following year of my grieving, everything

stopped for me. There was nothing to do -- just cry and remember.

However, that year also gave an opportunity to reflect upon my journey

and the principles that hold me together. I discovered that there is

consistency in my beliefs, my writing and the way I lead my life. I

have not changed, I am still the same girl I was fifty years ago, and

the same young woman I was in the seventies. I still lust for life, I

am still ferociously independent, I still crave justice and I fall

madly in love easily.

Paralyzed and

silent in her bed, my daughter a taught me a lesson that is now my

mantra: You only have what you give. It's by spending yourself that you

become rich.

a led a life of

service. She worked as a volunteer helping women and children, eight

hours a day, six days a week. She never had any money, but she needed

very little. When she died she had nothing and she needed nothing.

During her illness I had to let go of everything: her laughter, her

voice, her grace, her beauty, her company and finally her spirit. When

she died I thought I had lost everything. But then I realized I still

had the love I had given her. I don't even know if she was able to

receive that love. She could not respond in any way, her eyes were

somber pools that reflected no light. But I was full of love and that

love keeps growing and multiplying and giving fruit.

The

pain of losing my child was a cleansing experience. I had to throw

overboard all excess baggage and keep only what is essential. Because

of a, I don't cling to anything anymore. Now I like to give much

more than to receive. I am happier when I love than when I am loved. I

adore my husband, my son, my grandchildren, my mother, my dog, and

frankly I don't know if they even like me. But who cares? Loving them

is my joy.

Give, give, give -- what

is the point of having experience, knowledge or talent if I don't give

it away? Of having stories if I don't tell them to others? Of having

wealth if I don't share it? I don't intend to be cremated with any of

it! It is in giving that I connect with others, with the world and with

the divine.

It is in giving that I feel the spirit of my daughter inside me, like a soft presence.http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4568464