Today was the funeral for the father of a very good friend of mine. He fell last week, and there was a quick decline in his condition; he died the next day. All the planning that goes along with such an event, notifying family and waiting for them to arrive, making decisions, not sleeping, lots of crying…it is all so familiar to me still. Yet, I do not know what to say to her. My own father died a little over two years ago, and of course my husband 16 months ago. You’d think I’d be able to come up with something besides “I’m sorry.” I offered prayers, asked about how her Mom was doing, and said “I know it’s hard.” It feels so inadequate. And I couldn’t be there either; she’s (or I am) a thousand miles away. After everyone goes home, though, that’s when she’ll need to talk about it, I think. I’m planning a trip up her way in June, so will make it a definite stop on the way.
We’re at that age when we are losing parents now. Or that’s what we expect to happen. Grandparents leave us first, followed by aunts and uncles and our own parents, then maybe a friend here or there and older cousins. We say that if we’re lucky, then we go next, before the spouse, before the kids, and definitely before any grandbabies. And it’s all very sad and numbing in the moment. But I know people who have suffered the loss of a toddler, or a son whose time was up way too soon, or like me, a spouse in his prime. It never gets easier, never gets routine, never seems like the right thing. Death seems to raise more questions than it answers. Most of them start with Why?
Yet, we all know that the natural order is birth, life, death. It can be no other way. There is no guarantee of how long we have, whether our time here will be rags or riches, if we’ll have a legacy to leave behind or not. So we wonder what the point of it all is. And try to make sense any way we can, so we can go on until the next time.
Having wandered through this territory recently, I hoped I would have something profound and meaningful to say to my friend…and to others who are still hurting years after their losses. There are no magic words, though. There is no spoonful of sugar that can make this medicine taste better. There is no one book that gives directions on how to get through this time quickly or painlessly, or “right.”
The amazing thing about grief is how differently it is experienced by everyone. My father was not her father, and our relationships with those men were different, and we are different, and the rest of our families are made up differently, and on and on and on. But we are two women who both have lost our fathers. I only met hers maybe once or twice in all the years she and I have known each other. I’m still sad because I know the uncertainty that accompanies us as we wander in the “lost” zone, being in limbo, waiting for it all to be over…which it never really is. We learn to adjust. And as we start tinkering with the various aspects of what needs adjusting and how we go about that, we reflect on the past and guess at the future; stay connected if we can and at the same time find new connections; discover new options and decide on new directions; all adapting as make it from one hour to the next, one day to the next, one whatever to the next whatever.
My condolences go to the Schmitt and Reller families. I’ll be remembering all of you in my prayers.
There’s nothing like children (or grandchildren in my case) to help one keep things simple and stay focused on the present moment. I’m reminded that this is what’s important – life. Period. It’s about being happy, not seeing how much we can get done in a day. I took Nikos to preschool today, and then found the local Starbucks. I realized I was enjoying my coffee much more in the sunshine here in Ventura, with nothing else to do, than if I were at home and had a list of things on my desk waiting for me.
I am excited to host my first focus group this afternoon. I have invited several of my neighbors, all of whom are now retired, in to give me some advice, identify local resources, and help hold me accountable for going “official” and starting a business. I want to combine my grief experience and my work history, along with the personal sabbatical, to help others who are facing challenges in their lives. Significant, difficult or emotional life events have implications at home and at work, and in how we deal with the rest of the world. I want people to be able to do more than just survive their contact with whatever enemy they are facing; wouldn’t it be great to know – really know in your heart – that will be okay, that you may even thrive as you get stronger again.
in front of the computer or the TV all day. I understand now what you must have gone through, now that I’m home all day (well, most of the day, most of the time). You were always so patient with me, telling me the trivia of your day, and asking about mine. I took for granted the lawn being mowed or the dogs being cared for or the trash being out at the curb for pickup because you never made a big deal out of that.
pity party because no one knows how I feel, I remember that you knew. You carried the load much of the time, even when I didn’t realize it or appreciate it. You give me strength now, too. I am so damn lucky to have you in my life. I wanted you to know that. I still love you, but I think I love you better now.
I watched complete movies and read entire books instead of just pages. I continued the updates in the house, and Peggy fixed the hole in the wall. She came here, and I went to her house also. In August I was ready for a vacation, and rode my motorcycle again. I noted I was feeling more like me again. It was now I started thinking about writing a book on the grieving experience. But for some reason I also started worrying about money, and I thought about moving. September I met with a realtor about selling the house, but had out of state work trips to Minnesota and Seattle, and made a side trip to Los Angeles, so no time to decide.
inishing this post will make No. 7. One of the items was to check my access to the John Maxwell Team resources, since I haven’t been on that site in a v-e-r-y long time, and I am interested in starting up another study session of the 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership. I not only was able to sign in immediately, but I then listened to two archived calls, one by Malissa West and one by
Paul Martinelli, for nearly 2 hours of webinar time. I also did a bit of research on local professional photographers for a head shot session and responded to several emails related to the NSA Speaker Academy course I am enrolled in. I’ve spent less than a half hour on Facebook and that was only to check out the John Maxwell Group’s site.
Staying social was one of my other rules, and I haven’t broken that one. I know how important it is to be connected and feel like I belong. Funny thing about that – twice in the past two days, I have gone somewhere and ran into people I know. One was my neighbor when I went to a coffee date, and another was a fellow Toastmaster when I went to dinner last night. There’s nothing like being recognized outside of the usual context of where we know people from. It’s one thing to have a planned meeting; it’s another when getting dressed and going out results in not just a casual hello but a conversation. So it seems like another good reason to get out of pajamas – you never know when you’ll want to step out or be invited to coffee.
Solowingnow 