Happy New Year

The year 2014 has been filled with many life changing events and a healthy variety of emotion charged moments. This year I have experienced painful events, expensive events, fun events, and meaningful events.  As I looked back over the last twelve months I realized that very few things went as planned but the most important things were  experienced to their fullest.

As the holidays approached this year, I was under a tremendous amount of stress. A few weeks after my sister passed, my mother had a series of strokes. She is failing so Hospice is helping us keep her comfortable. In addition to the time and attention needed required for my mother,  it is the time of year that requires long hours at work.  As a firm believer in Murphy's Law, when my washing machine failed and then dog my dog required surgery I began to hope that Murphy would stop working overtime in my life and place his focus elsewhere. 

I didn't find time to decorate the house and shop for food until two days before Christmas. My Christmas cards were mailed on December 24th and I finished wrapping presents only a few hours before everyone was due to arrive for Christmas Eve dinner.  My daughter's plane was arriving home on Christmas day so I had planned a small Christmas dinner for our little family.  The timing for a meal at home didn't work out so we ended up at a restaurant eating Mexican food.  Mexican Food is always good and, since I was sleep deprived, this worked out well for me too.

The day after Christmas we had plans to go shopping and my sister was to join us.  On December 26, just before I was ready to hop in the shower, I tried to clear some of the remnants of the prior day's chaos and sent a text to my sister asking what time she would arrive at my house.  Her reply was "We are an hour away."  I almost hyperventilated at her response so I asked her, "Who is we?"  Thirty minutes later I tried to answer the door but my door handle jammed so I opened the garage and greeted an entourage of people as I stood there speechless, fresh from the shower, with my wet hair and bathrobe. My sister took one look at my face and said, "I guess I shouldn't have surprised you."   In spite of an interesting start to the day we had a wonderful time shopping together.  While shopping with my daughter and my sister's family,  I bumped into a dear friend which made the day just that much more special.  

That evening I remembered that I forgot to pick up a gift for my grandson's birthday party the next day so I made a quick trip to Target before they closed.   While wrapping the gift it occurred to me that as I was trying to meet the expectations of the holiday I really didn't make adequate time for all of the people who mean the most to me. Every year I promise myself that I will not let the season overwhelm me and every year I find myself overwhelmed..  Many of the things that require my attention are unavoidable but this entire month was too chaotic.  I  began to think about what I should have done/could have done differently. Perhaps I could have sacrificed the home cooked meals or asked for more time off but, in the end, I would not have changed a thing. The time with my family was precious and with each disaster there was a silver lining. When my dog got sick, I discovered that both my Vet and one of her assistants both have parents with Alzheimer Disease.  We decided to get together regularly for to support each other.  As I was selecting my new washing machine, the lady helping me said that this is the first Christmas without her mother.  As she began to talk I discovered that she had  recently lost her mother after experiencing the same thing that I am going through now.  I shared my story with her and we stood talking for a very long time.  She hugged me as I was leaving and I walked out of the appliance store I was feeling just a little better. 

This year I discovered that some folks claim to care but in times of crisis they are nowhere to be found and then other people think that just showing up, expecting to be entertained while gracing me with their presence, is enough. Someone told me once that true friends are defined in times of adversity. A true friend is someone who goes out of their way, offering to carve time from their own busy schedule to actually help. I have not accepted any of the offers to help yet but their thoughtfulness means more than words can convey. Just knowing there are people who care enough to actually show up and be there makes me feel just a little less alone.

Although this was a difficult year, it had it's highlights which gives me hope for 2015.  My dog is going to be alright, my new washing machine will be delivered in two days, I made some new friends, discovered how special other friends are, was able to finish everything in time for Christmas, spent time with family,  I was able to share Christmas with my mother (even if it was beside a hospital bed), and I have a shiny new door handle on my front door.  So, as I bid goodbye to this difficult year I enter into the year 2015 with no resolutions or expectations.  All I want is to be is the best version of myself and remember how important it is to actually show up and demonstrate the same levels of  friendship and kindness to others that I have received throughout 2014. 

Happy New Year.

 

 

The Electric Slide

Each day I go to see my mother and try to get her to eat something. She can be stubborn and will only take food and water from either myself and one other person.  This daily trip to see my mother isn't always convenient, not to mention the fact that seeing her in this condition isn't easy, so I just try to keep in mind that what my mother is experiencing isn't easy for her either.  I don't like dwelling on the negative so I am committed to looking for those small positive moments and embracing them.  As it turns out, I didn't need to look very hard because those small moments are all around me. 

In the  assisted living residence where my mother is I have become well acquainted with some of the residents and most of the staff.  Each visit is an opportunity to chat with someone I have become friends with and I almost always see something that makes me smile.  As I was leaving this evening I stepped into the lobby and saw one of the older residents teaching people how to dance.  When they were finished with the dance I stepped forward, clapping my hands saying "Well done!" The receptionist pointed to Bobbi,  the elderly woman, and told me that she used to be a dance teacher. 

Bobbi looked right at me and asks "Do you jitterbug?"  I just told her that a good friend taught me the steps when I was young but I haven't done the jitterbug in years. She immediately pushed her walker aside as she took my hands and said "Let's see what you can do!"  Within minutes we were dancing around the lobby.  As I helped her back to her walker someone asked her if she can do the electric slide. She said no so the receptionist put on some music and a couple of the nurses proceeded to teach Bobbi and I the electric slide. Before long, a few other people had joined in and we spent about twenty minutes learning a variety of line dances.  It was the best evening I have had in a long time and proves that there is no age limit on fun.  However, if someone would have ever told me that I would find myself in the lobby of an assisted living laughing and line dancing with caregivers and a group of 80 year olds,  I would have called them crazy.  Although, I do have to admit that these moments of craziness are exactly what is keeping me sane.

Looking For The Lights

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, my mother was admitted to the hospital because of a stroke. While in the hospital, she had two more strokes, and a blood clot went through her heart.  Her strong little heart broke up the clot sending multiple clots into her lungs and, although the clot didn’t get into the brain, her heart sustained damage.  One month ago my mother was this feisty little woman who was somewhat independent in spite of the fact that she has Alzheimer Disease.  For the last two years she thought that this is 1982. She was physically strong but she needed people to remind her not to wear a winter coat in July and to help her understand what time of day it is.  Today, she can’t lift her arms, has limited use of her hands, and is bedridden.  However, her stubborn streak survived and she refuses food or therapy unless I am present.  This means that each day after work I need to be physically present for her unless my sister can come into town to relieve me.   Of course, the additional challenge is the Alzheimer Disease.  She doesn’t understand why she is bedridden, she doesn’t remember the two week hospital stay, and she doesn’t remember that she has spent the last two years in the assisted living. Every time I see her she asks me what happened.  Her doctor told us that unless she can invest in her own recovery she may not get better.  As her guardians, the decisions fall on my sister and I to make decisions for her care but my sister says “Whatever you think is best.”

I have spent the last month splitting my time between my mother’s hospital bed and work.   The time between these two activities leaves me just enough to eat, sleep, and shower.  A few days ago I was sitting next to my mother’s bed listening to the rhythm of the oxygen machine when I felt a feeling of complete defeat overwhelm me.  At that moment, I was grateful for the solitude of that room because I could just close my mind and insulate myself from everything.  I didn’t know if it was the emotional exhaustion, the physical exhaustion, or something more but all I wanted to do was to sit and think of ………..nothing. So, that is exactly what I did.  I sat and refused to think of my list of tasks that exceed the time available to accomplish them. I cleared my head of the hurt, the worry, and the things that I just can’t fix. For an entire hour, all I did was sit and stare out the window watching the city lights.  By the time I was ready to go home I felt better.  As I was preparing to leave, my mother’s caregiver asked me how I am doing.  I responded ‘As good as I can be I guess. There are just some things I can’t fix and this is one of them.’ 

I took a detour on the way home so I could re-energize by just enjoying the night sky and the Christmas lights.  This is the second time in three months that I have been forced to sit helplessly and watch someone who is failing. I have always held firm to the belief that everything happens for a reason but I struggle to find logic in this.   In spite of my own struggle, I know that everything has a purpose even if I don’t understand it.  These events have created too many opportunities for me to sink into a dark place but, like my mother, I am stubborn and refuse to go there. I am investing in my own emotional health by looking for those rays of happiness and I see them everywhere.  The staff that cares for my mother are absolutely wonderful.  They have their own sense of community and I have found friends there.  I have been reminded of how much I appreciate my friends and family plus I have met a few new friends because of this.  I look around me and see many blessings that I had previously taken for granted.  Although I am sad, I am also grateful.

 

We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if that drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.

Mother Teresa

I had a day to myself recently and decided to paint my living room to occupy my mind. As it turns out, I traded the rhythm of the oxygen machine for the rhythm of a paint roller.  As the paint covered my walls, I decided that everyone has a choice when things look bleak. We can surrender to that dark place or we can look for those small beams of happiness.  These small moments of joy may not seem like much at first, but they are like the Christmas lights on a dark tree.  One light, then another, then another is added until the light turns a dark tree into something magical.   It occurred to me that, whether I accept the darkness or seek the light, whatever is meant to happen will happen anyway regardless of my choice.   So I do the best I can for my mother as I look for those small moments of joy. At the end of each day I make it a point to reflect back on the good moments and I always see more good moments than bad ones.  Just as Christmas lights make a dark tree appear to be something magical, these special moments turn my dark days into something spectacular.  I have a choice between remaining in the darkness and seeking the light.  My choice is to look for the light.

 

 

 

A Personal Brand

Part of your personal brand is the cumulative perceptions people have about you. It is your reputation, both online and off. It is what makes you one of a kind, even in the midst of all the others who have the same or similar skills. This is what makes people choose you, and only you. Your personal brand is basically your promise.

Maria Elena Duron  US News 11/13/14.

 

It sometimes feels as though new and improved terms are surfacing almost daily. At work we have what I call corporate slang but these terms are new label for old concepts.  For example, the first time I heard someone suggest that I “reach out” to someone I had to cover a smile.  The term reminded me of the old AT&T commercial where we were encouraged to “Reach out and touch someone.” I still don’t understand why we are “encouraged” me to “reach out to someone” instead of just saying, “Why don’t you call them to discuss?” 

Amongst the multitude of trendy terms that seem to surface on a regular basis, the one that recently caught my attention is ‘developing your personal brand.’  When I tried to get a clear and concise definition of what a personal brand actually is, all I found was a series of explanations that were vague and subjective. When an opportunity presented itself for me to attend a seminar to discuss how I can develop my own personal brand, I signed up.

As expected, the concept of developing a personal brand is a new term for an old concept.  Basically, it means that first impressions count and people should promote themselves according to how they want to be perceived. The personal brand is a label, a label that identifies the perception we want others to have of us.  Of course, the difference between the old concept and the new one is that the new one has a nifty new label to make it sound better.      

At the seminar, the speaker promised that a personal brand could improve my quality of life.  She said that a personal brand motivates us to do better.  In other words, if we decide that we want to be lose weight we can add the words active and motivated to our brand.  These words will motivate us to stick to our diet, wake up at 4a.m. to exercise.   Basically, we strive to live up to the label we want to identify with.  I may sound cynical about this theory, but I do have doubts.  This sounds like a new term for the old concept of ‘identifying a goal, outline steps to achieve the goal, and sticking to it.’  If establishing a personal brand really made it that easy I would set up a personal brand titled “Self- made millionaire who looks twenty years younger and wears a size 6.”  

 Projecting an image that only reveals certain qualities allows a one dimensional view of who we are and we humans are not one a dimensional species. I agree that we should promote our strengths; but relationships are built when people remove the veneer to reveal the real person behind the illusion.  If I only share the part of myself that hides the nuances in my personality, I end up compromising my authenticity.  I do believe that there is value in promoting our best qualities. However, a brand should not completely define me.  I am not a one dimensional being and I am definitely more than a label. 

A Love/Hate Relationship With Change

 

I recently watched a TED Video that inspired me to start doing things I have been procrastinating about.  The video is called “Thirty Days”  and the speaker was a man named Matt Cutts, a man who describes himself as someone who used to be an out of shape man spending all of his time in front of a computer keyboard.  He knew that his life lacked dimension but he was struggling to make positive changes until  he decided to take the ‘Thirty Day Challenge.’ Basically, a thirty day challenge meant that he had to commit to trying one new thing for thirty days.  He  said he decided to try it because it seems less intimidating when he committed to “making small sustainable changes."  As a result, one change led to another and  his life changed for the better. 

"Ultimately we know that on the other side of every fear is freedom." - Marilyn Ferguson

As for myself, I have a love hate relationship with change so committing for only thirty days is appealing because there is a beginning and there is an end.   It isn't the fear of change itself that inhibits me from taking on a change more readily.  I tend to procrastinate because of the fear of failure, the fear of being too vulnerable, the fear that change means giving up something I am comfortable with, or just the fear of the unknown.  In most instances I will embrace the opportunity to change but only after analyzing it thoroughly first.  However,  I just push past the fear if there is somewhere else I need to be or want to be in life.  In other words, the desire to get there must be greater than the fear.   Whatever my motivation is, making the first effort toward change can be difficult. After musing about this for a while,  I realized that facing the fear of a new challenge is like getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning.  On cold mornings I will lay in bed for a few additional minutes because I dread the very act of getting up and starting my day. In reality, the worst part of the entire ‘getting out of bed experience’ can be condensed into those few seconds when I take my feet out from under the warm covers and put them on the floor.  Once I am out of bed it’s all good and I end up wondering why I spend fifteen minutes worrying about thirty seconds of change.

Over the last few years I have found that change is the only constant. Just as I get comfortable with my routine, I am propelled into a new one.  More and more often I find myself in situations that make it impossible for me to hide behind the scenes.  After a lot of whining, I decided that hiding from the things that make me uncomfortable isn’t working.   I took the thirty day challenge and signed up for a social group to practice mingling with people I don’t know, I joined a public speaking group, and I might even try karaoke.  For some people all of these experiences probably sound like simple challenges.  I agree that they are simple, but simple is relative to the person and the circumstances.  For example, if I had to dig a hole in the ground that is 10’ X 10’ and 10’ deep the task isn’t that difficult depending on the tools available, the circumstances, the physical ability of the person doing the digging. Sitting next to a loved one is a simple task but sitting next to a loved one as they lay on their death bed is not an easy thing to do.  Society uses the words simple and easy interchangeably but the two words do not always mean the same thing.

"...let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." Franklin D.Roosevelt

 

Everyone is unique so what frightens one person may be easy to another. The first day on a new job can evoke as much fear for one person as the first kayak trip down a raging river would be for someone else.  Any challenge, big or small, should not diminish the feeling of accomplishment we get from having the courage to take the first step past our fear. Whether someone is starting their first job in many years, uttering the first sentence of a speech in front of a large group, taking the initiative to say hello to a stranger, or singing in public for the first time it isn't always as easy as it sounds.  The very act of moving from fear to the first step of change is a personal victory.  What is more important than success or failure is having the courage to start.   I am ready to make my next 30 day commitment to change.  Even though I am a little nervous, I try to remember that one step usually leads to another and, before I know it, I am wondering why I spent a few hours worrying about a few minutes.   

 

 

 

 

Remembering To Dance

 

 

“And now I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end,

 the way it all would go.

Our lives are better left to chance.

I could have missed the pain but I’d have had to miss the dance.”

The Dance

Garth Brooks.

 

Life has been difficult recently.  For a short time I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t have any appetite, and I couldn’t focus.   It felt as though I was sleepwalking through life; but I didn’t want to stay there. I wanted to get to a place where I could move forward but it felt as though I was navigating through a thick fog. Then, just a few days ago, some tortured soul jumped off of the building where I work to make a permanent exit. I have tragedy in my life too so I had to wonder why someone would do such a thing.  As sad as I have been, taking my own life has never crossed my mind. Actually, running away to a tropical paradise and imbibing in many of those fruity drinks laced with alcohol as I read a good book and watch the waves roll to shore is more my style.    If a kayak were involved, I could focus on my paddle stroke and clear my mind. This would make the whole experience perfect.    

 

“Life is simple but we insist on making it complicated.”

Confucius

It is usually some small event that will help me adjust my perspective on life. The catalyst that helped me take that first step out of my foggy state was a conversation with a good friend who carries the drama of others on her shoulders as though it were her own.   Over coffee I listened as my friend lamented about the decisions one of her other friends was making.  When she stopped to take a breath I said, “I understand why you see a problem but how is this impacting you?”  She told me that it wasn’t impacting her but it was frustrating to see her friend do things that do not make sense.  I told her that if it isn’t hurting anyone, and it isn’t impacting her personally, then why is she personalizing it?   My friend is small in stature but has the tenacity of a Bulldog so just letting anything go really isn’t in her nature.  Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when she began to elaborate on her friend’s issues and defend her frustration.  Once again I simply asked, “How does this affect you again?”  She said, “Well, it doesn’t.”  I asked again, “Is it hurting anyone?” She said “Well, no.”  I then surprised both of us as I stood up and began to sing the song “Let it Go” from the movie Frozen accompanied by the eloquent arm gestures.  Within minutes we were both laughing so hard that it hurt and, once we caught our breath, she admitted that I had a point.

 

After the song fest, I realized that this was the first time in weeks I have felt completely happy so I decided that perhaps the way to move forward is to look at things from a different perspective. I decided that I needed to embrace my sadness instead of fighting it. A lot of the media hype would have us believe that we should be living in a constant state of euphoric bliss, which is an unrealistic expectation. The reality is that life is a messy combination of pleasant and painful moments.   There are times when life is simply going to be uncomfortable, or even painful, and it is in these times that the feelings of sadness and grief are normal.  The problem isn't about feeling sad. The problem surfaces if I allow myself to become so immersed in grief that I become too comfortable there and stop moving forward.   

“The art of living lies in the finite mingling of letting go and holding on.”

H. Lewis.

Two years ago I had to relocate my mother to an assisted living facility, sell my childhood home, and I watch helplessly as Alzheimer disease claims her. I treasure the good days and the bad days are heartbreaking but I refuse to live in that sad place all of the time.  This year my older sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  A month ago, less than five months after her diagnosis, I was sitting at her bedside as the cancer took her.  My sister’s death hit me hard, even harder than I expected it to, but I know that staying in a place of pain benefits no one. Grief is warranted but there is absolutely nothing I can do to change what has happened.

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

C.S. Lewis

 

Someone told me once that life is a symphony and our quality of life depends on how we dance to the music.  After the conversation with my friend, and once the laughter had subsided, I realized that I had almost stopped dancing.   It had been weeks since I genuinely enjoyed a good laugh. I became acutely aware of how much I have to be grateful for and began to think that perhaps the difficult part of life is like the white background on the page of a book.  The white space defines the black ink to make the words identifiable just as the pain in life is necessary to define the happy moments.  Over the last week I have been laughing again and I am counting all of my blessings.  There are still moments when I have to hold back tears,   like when  my mother forgets that my sister is gone and asks how she is doing, so I just remind myself that the sadness is normal.  For first time in weeks I am beginning to hear the music. Now I am beginning to enjoy the dance again.  I  wish that the poor soul who jumped would have kept trying to listen for the music too. 

 

 

Looking At Life Through The Wrong End Of The Telescope

I was sad to hear of the death of Robin Williams. He had the ability to speak of routine events in a way that caused people to view things from a humorous perspective while some of his movies, like Patch Adams and Jakob the Liar, showed a more compassionate side.  I think that he was able to look at the world through the wrong end of a telescope and then share his perspective in ways that made us smile.

“I like nonsense.  It takes up the brain cells.  Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living; it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope, which is what I do, and that enables me to laugh at life’s realities.”  Dr. Seuss

There are others who have defined their careers by looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope too, but not all of them are comediennes.  I have always admired anyone who has the courage to refuse conformity and instead choose the road less travelled rather than let their life stagnate is a pool of sameness. Robin Williams and Joan Rivers are two recent examples of people who were not afraid to follow a less common path but our founding fathers, Dr. Seuss, The Beetles, Gloria Steinham, Beethoven, and many others come to mind when I think of those who were not afraid to define themselves on their own terms rather than the terms that society dictates to be the acceptable norm.  These people have been called innovators, odd, nerds, and rebels  but these are also people who were less afraid of forging ahead on the unknown path than they were of losing touch with their dreams by taking the safe route and doing what made everyone else comfortable

“Think left and think right and think low and think high.

Oh the thinks you can think up if you only try.”

Dr. Seuss.

 

I just lost a sister who taught me to take risks. She taught me to think beyond what everyone else is doing so I could find my own path. On the morning of her funeral I had to stop by my father’s grave.  I am familiar with the cemetery but this cemetery is terraced into the side of a mountain and has several sections that I have labelled as old, older, oldest and ancient.  My heart was full of grief and my mind was on other things so I inadvertently took the wrong road. I found myself on a narrow muddy road  that wound its way through the brush and up the hill. There were times when I could feel my heart contract as I navigated around part of the road that had been washed away. At times I was forced to drive so close to the edge so I could avoid trees that were uprooted but, since backing down the hill scared me more than moving forward, I forged ahead.  The road eventually led me into an older part of the cemetery where the road was still narrow but not as frightening.  As I emerged from the underbrush, I found myself almost at the top of the hill in a part of the cemetery that was unfamiliar to me.  The intense green of shrubs, trees, and grass made the cement headstones stand out against a blue sky.  It had rained the night before and rays from the sun were shining through the remaining clouds.  I stopped and looked around in delight because the scene was absolutely spectacular.  My little detour reminded me of years past when my sister and I travelled similar unknown roads in search of adventure and on several occasions we were rewarded with a spectacular view. It felt as though she was with me, encouraging me to just keep going forward, reminding me that the road less travelled often turns an ordinary journey into an extraordinary adventure.

 

Each one of us must make his own path through life. There are no self-help manuals, no formulas, and no easy answers.  The right road for one is the wrong road for another….The journey of life is not paved in blacktop; it is not brightly lit, and it has no road signs.  It is a rocky path through the wilderness.

Scott Peck

The Road Less Travelled

 

That narrow road at the cemetery reminded me that if I blindly follow what everyone else does, or travel only the roads that everyone else travels, the result will be more predictable but I will also limit myself to what everyone else saw and did.  If I want to experience something new, then I need to look at life in a different way (perhaps through the wrong end of the telescope) and take the risk of being different.

Why would you try to fit in when you are born to stand out?”
Dr. Seuss

 

 

Those people who are not afraid of looking through the wrong end of the telescope and then share their perspective while projecting humor and compassion are an inspiration to me.  They prove, without a doubt, that we cannot be unique and blend in at the same time, nor should we try to do so.  A beloved comedienne passing and a wrong turn at the cemetery made me realize that it takes courage to stand out but I think it is worth the risk because that space just beyond the boundary line, the line that separates what the world has defined as normal from everything else, is where the adventure begins.       

 

 

Everything Happens For A Reason

I sat by my sister Terri's side for three days and watched her fade away.  Now that she is gone,  there is a void that I am struggling to fill because I have never known a time when she wasn't there in one way or another.

My sister and I had a strained relationship in recent years but I am not going to park my heart in a place of regret.  She was battling her demons and I wasn't always as forgiving as I could have been.   The short version is that neither of us are blameless. I was just grateful that I was able to be with her while she was still coherent because she wasn't always so broken and, for a short time, I saw a glimpse of the sister I used to know. I believe that everything happens for a reason yet I struggled to understand the reason for this. 

For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Grief is a process but I refuse to park my life in a place of pain. Yet, in spite of my determination to move forward I have been struggling. Oddly enough, my first smile revealed itself as my sister Sandie and I sat at the mortuary waiting to finalize arrangements.  As we sat in the waiting room I heard a typewriter.  When I mentioned it to my sister she said "Oh!  Yes, and there is the carriage return."  We got up to peek and saw the office manager using an IBM Selectric. I wondered how they were able to get ribbons for it and my sister wondered why it wasn't in a museum.  It was then, without warning, that I felt a smile form on my face.

My home town hasn't changed much since I left thirty years ago.  This mortuary still uses cassette tapes for music and the newspaper still comes out only once a week. Finalizing the details meant coordinating the schedules of the newspaper obituary, the  judge, the doctor, and the mortician which was complicated by the fact that some key people were going out of town since we were coming up on a holiday weekend.  I was a little annoyed at the delays and inefficiencies but  in the end it is irrelevant. If the memorial is held this weekend or next weekend or even two months later it still would not bring her back. The important thing is that we honor her passing.

While Terri was still coherent, we had spoken with her about the funeral arrangements.   She wanted to be cremated and we suggested that her ashes be buried with family. She liked the idea and said that wanted she to be with my dad.   I was struggling with my own belief that everything happens for a reason until I realized that these delays had forced us to have her memorial on the anniversary of my father's death. The timing was perfect.

 It then  occurred to me that the timing of everything was perfect.  Hospice had called us just in time to be able to talk to my sister and say goodbye while she was still coherent. I was able to be with her when she passed on and I come away from this  with a new perspective on empathy and forgiveness.  I was reminded that being stubborn and unbending is never the best approach because life is short and our legacy lies in the memories we leave behind.

During this time I was reminded of how small gestures can have a huge impact. When I returned to work, I walked into my office and it was filled with flowers and cards.  I stood in shock for several minutes and then I cried off all of my mascara.  A display of large Hershey's Chocolate bars made my eyes moist as I remember the multiple trips to the store with my sister to pick up her favorite chocolate bar.  A simple email from a friend who lost his sister to cancer, sent on the day of my sister's passing, telling me his family is walking in the Light The Night walk.  I made a donation in Terri's name. My granddaughter helped me make pizza dough from scratch, salad, wings, and a salted caramel sundae with chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered pretzels and hot salted caramel sauce.  As we stood at the counter covered in pizza dough and melted chocolate, I looked at the mess in my kitchen and realized that the chocolate and flour can be removed with soap and water but, after I am gone, my legacy lies in the memories I create with those I love. 

I am grateful that my final memories of my sister were moments of love. I was reminded to appreciate the small things.  I was reminded  of the value of forgiveness.  I was reminded that life is short and my time is a valuable commodity.   I was reminded to be more discerning about who I make time for because adversity has a way of revealing who our true friends are, who truly cares about us, and who we should invest our time in. I was reminded that  life is not about how we enter this world, or how we leave it, but what counts are the memories we create in between.  As everything began to fall in place, I felt assured that everything does happen for a reason, even if I don't understand it.



Rest in peace dear sister.  You are loved.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

 

Mary Elizabeth Frye



 

Saying Goodbye

I have two older sisters and one of my sisters is dying.  When I received the call I was torn on whether I should even go to the hospital to say goodbye because there are so many harsh feelings between us.  The hospice nurse had called my oldest sister and said that initially she hadn’t wanted either of us to know how ill she is. Apparently the hospice nurse convinced her that she should let family be with her.  Once I decided to go, I realized that this visit would be a final goodbye but it is also the first hello we have said to each other in more than a decade. 

 

The three of us have always struggled to maintain any type of relationship.  I was born when both of my sisters were in High School.   For years I wondered if the age difference was the cause of our lack of bonding but, if I am being honest with myself, it isn’t.  We are just very different people. 

 

My oldest sister was very religious and married right outside of High School because getting married right outside of High School is what women were expected to do in the early 1960’s.  The other sister was a feminist who immediately began working and going to night school.  While one sister was preaching marriage and submission to her man, the other was picketing for equality in the workplace and extolling the virtues of the birth control pill.  There were clashes between them but somehow they managed to maintain a fragile relationship over the years.

 

I am different from my two sisters because I march to my own beat. Perhaps we don’t bond because they don’t understand me or maybe they can't accept me. The constant criticism to my face and behind my back is what caused me to distance myself from one sister while bouts of anger and alcohol caused me to distance myself from the other.  One sister criticizes me because I don’t attend church on a regular basis or the towels in my bathroom are not the right shade of lavender, the other one cared more about her addictions and anger than she cared about her family.  I always wished things were different with us but, whether it is the age difference or the lack of common ground, we have struggled to maintain any type of friendship at all for as long as I can remember. 

However, life is a series of constant changes. Today my oldest sister is embracing her feminist side while the sister who is dying chose to let her anger and her addictions guide her down a less desirable path, a path which ended up hurting so many people.  My mother always tried to protect her and ended up getting hurt both physically and emotionally on more than one occasion.  This is where my struggle to forgive comes from. I decided to make the trip but it was as much for myself as it was for her.  This trip wasn’t just about saying good bye, it was about forgiveness too.

 

I drove the familiar highway toward my home town and began to search for memories of a happier time.  My sister wasn’t always an angry alcoholic who was being treated for whatever mental illness deemed to be trendy at the moment.   She is intelligent, well educated, and at one time she was very successful.  Her decline didn’t actually begin until her mid-forties but, since she never does anything half way, she didn’t slowly slide downhill stopping to enjoy the scenery on her decline. It was like she booked a ticket to hell on the Concord so she could get there as fast as she could and hurt as many people as she could along the way. 

 

They warned me that she was gaunt but I was still unprepared for the skeletal form on the bed that vaguely resembled my sister.  We had some awkward conversation and some awkward silence until I heard her say, “Cheryl, I am so sorry.  It was the alcohol and the mental issues but I was going to group therapy to get better.  I am so sorry.”  I have heard her say I am sorry combined with her excuses so many times before but her repentance never lasted.  This time I heard the words and forgiveness was easy.  I realized that this will be her last apology and it is my last opportunity to forgive.

I looked at her and told her that I wish things had been different. Then I asked, “Remember Beulah?”  She got this big grin on her face.  “I was thinking about Beulah when I drove up here.  How many times did you lose Beulah and have everyone looking around for your pet, only to be astonished when they discovered it was a hairpiece (that you named Beulah) which had fallen out?”  For the first time since I arrived we both laughed over a shared memory. 

I will go back again to see her as often as time allows before she goes.  She has given me her apology, and I have given her my forgiveness.  I told her I love her, and I do  because  I love the sister who named her hairpiece, took me to the store to buy a huge Hershey’s chocolate bar to share, loves animals, taught me how to put on mascara, and always called me for help because she can’t cook.  I will go back because she is my sister, because seeing her suffering just rips my insides out, and because I can't bear to think of her dying alone and unloved.

 

 

The Art of Listening

Communication is an exchange of information but too often folks are so focused on speaking that they forget that communication is also about listening.  Many years ago I received some valuable advice from a wise person who told me that a successful conversation begins and ends with attentive listening.  Years later I read somewhere that when we actively listen to what is being said, we engage and connect; but most people are not truly engaged in the message because they are thinking about how to respond.   Since hearing this, I have tried to be a better listener.  As a result, I have discovered that listening is easier than talking and a conversation reveals extraordinary stories about ordinary people. 

 “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”

Steven R Covey

For example, many years ago I was actively listening to an elderly woman talk about her life experiences. She was showing me some old photos from her High School years and one person seemed oddly familiar.  When I mentioned it she told me that his name was Marion Morrison. She said “He was this big shy guy who was clumsy and awkward.  We were all so surprised when he became a successful actor!”  I told her that I had never heard of a Marion Morrison.  She laughed and said, “Oh no honey!  His stage name was John Wayne.” 

 

A group of us recently went to this little lounge to dance, talk, drink wine, and listen to karaoke.  I didn’t know one of the ladies in our group very well but found myself sitting beside her.   We began with the small talk and some awkward conversation to try and find common ground until we discovered that our common ground was food and family.   To my surprise, she turns out to be more than 20 years older than I am but you wouldn’t know it to look at her.  She puts herself together so well and is so full of life that I had just assumed she was much younger.   When I shared my assumptions she told me that “Life is meant to be lived and we should treasure every moment of it.  My husband taught me this.”  I learned that she was born in Buffalo NY but raised in Italy, where she met her husband.  They later returned to Buffalo New York and then retired to Mesa, AZ.  Her husband passed away but he was an artist who is well known in certain circles and some of his pictures are in museums.  As she shared pictures from her phone she showed me a link that had a brief biography of her husband’s life and showcased his art.  Some of the art was very dark and disturbing but other pieces were happy pieces, sketches of landscapes and landmarks. I mentioned the distinct difference between the two and then listened with rapt attention as she began to share the most amazing story.   

 

Her parents were Italian immigrants who came to Buffalo NY but returned to Italy when she was a young.   She and her husband met in Italy.  He was quite a bit older plus he had just come from Russia where he had been imprisoned for almost 20 years in the Soviet prison Gulag. Gulag was all about hard labor but he had a degree in art so he learned to do tattoos, which is one of the reasons he survived.   I sat enthralled as she talked about how her husband had been imprisoned for attempting to immigrate out of Russia and was labeled a traitor. She shared his stories with me and we talked about her life in Europe during a time when Stalin was in power and Mussolini still had influence.  Her husband was imprisoned under the Stalin regime, after his release it took another three years before he was able to leave Russia.  From Russia, he travelled to Italy where he met my new friend and married her.  Eventually they returned to Buffalo NY and they were so grateful once they set foot on US soil that they began to cry.  Her husband’s love of the United States is the reason that there are so many pictures of New York buildings and landmarks.  She shared a link with me that showed some of his art renderings based on memories of that dark time in Gulag Prison.  Some of the stories she shared were the inspiration for these pieces and the darkness of those memories can be seen in his art.   Suddenly she said, “He passed away in 1997 but he was older than I am. Although I miss him dearly, he taught me that life is for living so we should treasure every minute.” Then she encouraged us all to dance.

 

At home I pulled up the link  (www.sgovio.com) to look at the art again and recalled some of the stories that she had shared with me.  I searched Google and found links on the internet, including a short Wikipedia profile of his life.  It was apparent that he was communicating his story through his art.

 

How we communicate with ourselves and with others ultimately determines the quality of our lives.

 

Anthony Robbins

 

 I mentioned the conversation to the friend who had introduced her to our group and she replied with surprise, “She has never shared that with me. 

I just smiled and said “ All I did was listen.”