A safe harbor where beliefs are respected and kindness prevails.

Profoundly Human

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LonelinessFor the last 10 days I’ve been training for my job, far away from my home.  At some point I had to become gainfully employed to support myself.  I know it was the best thing for me to do.

I feel lucky that my instructors are fun, kind and compassionate people.  They’ve made this trip more bearable because being away from home is just not what I wanted or needed so shortly after Jack’s death.  But life goes on and sometimes we have to pull on our big girl (or boy) pants and go on with it.

Being in a hotel room has amplified my sadness.  I can’t pick up the phone or Skype with Jack about my day, laugh about teaching an old dog new tricks or even complain about the heat.  We use to talk about everything and like any long-married couple we understood each other. But I can’t talk to him… and my loneliness is heartbreaking even to me.  So I cry.

The truth is that I am OK with my tears, with my sadness and even with being alone.  I had a wonderful marriage to the love of my life.  I was blessed and am blessed for having Jack in my life for 36 years.  What I am experiencing now is, well, just part of life.   And isn’t that why we are here in the first place?  To have this physical experience?  There was never a promise that this life would be all roses and sunshine anymore that it would be all doom and gloom.

I need to glean every bit of experience that I can in this lifetime and my pain is part of that.  I don’t have to like it but somehow I’m going to figure out how to appreciate it.  At some point I’ll be grateful for all of it… the tears, the sadness, and the loneliness… even if at the moment I cuss the seemingly unfairness of it.

As I sit here, alone,  at this moment my promise to myself is that I won’t stop living because I’ve loved and lost.  I will live because I was blessed to have Jack in my life and to witness the courage of his life.   I will live because that is what I came here to do. I will be happy again because I know that is the choice I will make for me.  All of this makes me profoundly human.  And I’m OK with that too.

As always, Cheryl

It’s Not About What We’ve Lost

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JACKCJ1The sound of Jack’s voice, his presence in the room, being able to tell him what I discovered… just being able to talk to him.  There are just no substitutes for what I miss the most.  I have wonderful friends and family… but calling them to talk about seeing my old neighborhood or that I had lunch at Pei Wei just isn’t as satisfying as having the conversation with Jack.  (And I know they understand that.)

It’s hard not to cry every time I miss what I had with him.  That doesn’t mean I’m focusing on all I’ve lost.  It means I miss my husband.  But then that shouldn’t surprise anyone… including me. As I sit here in a hotel room in Dallas, Texas.  I feel profoundly alone.  And I am… compared to what my life was.

I don’t feel sorry for myself.  Everyone in this life has or will go through some life changing event. And at this very moment according to the world clock nearly 111,000 people have died today. I’m not alone.  Some may have died suddenly and their loved ones are reeling from the shock.  Some suffered like Jack did and their family feels gratitude that the suffering is over.  For all of the people who died there are millions of us who are dealing with living after their deaths. We are not alone.

We can miss what we’ve lost without living in the past.  We can be sad because we won’t be able to hear their voices.  We can cry because we are alone.  But none of that means we’re living for what we’ve lost.  It just means we’re grieving… and that’s a part of life.

Tonight I’ll cry because I need to.  Tomorrow I’ll get up and drive south to visit my family and be grateful for their love and kindness.  I’ll give thanks for what I have and I’ll give thanks for what I had. And my life will go on.

We go on because as Jack would say, “It is what it is.”  And I know if our roles had been reversed he’d feel the way I do now.  But just like him I’ll have the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other, do the best I can and give thanks for every day, for every moment, of my life.  And that’s where we can all find our peace.

With love, Cheryl

There Is Always A Message

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We just have to be open to receive it…

This was a particularly difficult day. I don’t know why… it just was.  Driving home in tears I just wanted to hear Jack’s voice… or at least feel his presence and know he is close.  Nothing.  I just felt empty.  And there was no consoling my grief.

After dinner I decided to walk the route Jack and I use to take.  It was getting colder and I decided to wear Jack’s favorite jacket.  I just needed to feel him close.  Cleaning out the pockets I came across a silver medallion that I’d never seen before.  It said,
“One Day At A Time” on one side and on the other side is a version of the Serenity Prayer.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

It wasn’t what I thought I wanted but it was what I needed.   And there was no coincidence that it came to me when I needed it most.  There was peace in this discovery.

Are you open to receiving what you need in some form other than what you think you should? What might you discover if you set aside your expectations and allow yourself to be comforted?

Sometimes it’s enough just to be open to the possibilities.

With love, Cheryl

 

Embracing The Memories

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Mama-JoI’m not sure if it’s because I’m at a certain point in my life and it’s just the way the Universe works or if it’s just a coincidence but I feel that I am surrounded by many who are going through the process of losing a parent, a sibling or a spouse. In the past few months, I have passed on my condolences to many, by quoting a man who I only know via email, “Their absence has now become their presence.”   The first time I read this, I was so moved because it totally hit home for me. My parents pass away 10 years ago and yet, there are still many moments in every day where I find myself spending time with them.

Ten years ago this month, my mom (Mama-Jo) went into the hospital for a surgery to repair an Abdominal Aortic Aneurism – a very lengthy and ominous procedure where the possible outcome was less than in her favor. But she and my Dad made the decision to move ahead with the surgery given that the Aneurism could have burst any time, in its own time, resulting in sure death. So with bravery in her eyes and a Knowing in her Heart that everything was going to work out for the best, she set out on this incredible journey.

After a nine hour procedure she was moved to Intensive Care where she spent four months moving towards recovery. In May of that year she was moved to a Rehabilitation Facility – she was on her way home. But early one morning in late May, she became just too tired to keep trying and left this earthly plane to begin anew.

Two days afterwards, my Dad presented my Siblings and I a letter which Mama-Jo had penned in early January of 2005 :

My Dear Children and Grand-children,

            If you are reading this – I did not survive my surgery. This is not the way I wanted it but God has seen fit to call me home at this time. While I am leaving dear ones who love me, I am going to other dear ones who have gone on before me.

            Kathy, Steve and Mark – I love the three of you so very much. I was not the perfect mother but I never wanted anything but the very best for each of you. It is hard to lose a parent, someone you love, I know how it hurts not – but time will heal your pain and there will be only wonderful memories of all the great times we have had together.

            I love your families, Tom, Eileen and Rob, the Ones you have chosen to spend your lives with, and I love your children so much – Adrienne, Ashley, Stephanie and Alex – you are all so dear to me. It would have been wonderful to see you all marry and start your families and to see Alex play Major League Ball someday. My wish is that you will all stay close as a family, especially you, Kathy, Steve and Mark – family is so important, please don’t break the bond.

            I know that you are all hurting right now. I know you all love me and will grieve and miss me for some time and that’s the way it should be, but time will heal the pain and sorrow and God will help you – lean on Him. He will be there for you if you let Him. He loves you all.

            I know your father is going through a really bad time – he has been so good to me, he has really been my rock. Please keep in touch with him and help him through his pain – all of you must help each other.

            You have been wonderful children. When I think of the pain other kids cause their parents, I thank God – how lucky we were – but if it had been otherwise, I would still love you and would never have turned my back on any of you.

            I may have a few personal things that each of you may like to have – I can think of a few. I have talked with your dad about these things – he knows my wishes and when he is ready to part with them he will see to it you can have what you would like.

            Dear Kathy, I love you so much. You have been a loving and caring daughter – but most of all you have been a great mother. I am so proud of you – you are so caring and unselfish. I know it was not always easy for you but you raise two beautiful daughters and they love you dearly. I pray for yours and Tom’s health and happiness and many more years together.

            Steve – I love you so very much. You have always been my wanderer – you still are. Thank God you have always come back home. I’m proud of your honesty and kindness, always willing to help out, always there when you were needed. A wonderful boy who grew into a fine man. I wish you and Rob a great future – good health and happiness.

            Mark – I love you so very much, I know you know that. You were always my little man and you have grown into a wonderful, kind and fine man. You are such a blessing, such a good father. Your children are very lucky. Much happiness for you and Eileen.

God bless you all, I am so very proud of all of you.

You are all very much like your father. I may have given you a sense of right and wrong and caring, but your father gave you his strength and perseverance and I am very happy about that.

This has been very hard to write – my last Good-bye. God bless you all and keep you in his loving care. Love one another, until we are together again – and I am sure we will be – I am forever.

                        Your Loving,

                                    Mother

 She never met Carson, Dylan, Brook or Bryce, but they will know her, through our stories, pictures and the multitude of joyful memories – YES, her absence has become her presence!

The longer I live, the more I understand Mama-Jo’s words. Memories are sacred! (See “A Day At Home”.) We can hold everyone we have ever met close to hearts by simply bringing to mind a memory of that person. Through our pictures and stories we can manifest them back to life – and, while they are around, we can laugh and cry with them, and we can lean on them and ask for help, inspiration and guidance.

I believe that as long as there is one person still on this planet who remembers me after I have passed, I am still alive, for their memories of me keep me so.

Peace and much Love,

Steve

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