Progress Report 11/11/05

This Friday marks the 6th month anniversary of my mom’s passing. It’s also Veterans/Remembrance Day, as well as the date that my husband, Roy, and I first met seven years ago, and the day that we plan to go to a workshop for new hospice volunteers.

This seems like a good time to take stock of where I am and where I think I’m going. I say “think”, because if I’ve learned anything in these past two years, it’s that life has its own plans independent of my personal intentions.

But before I do that, I’d like to acknowledge all of the people who have reached out to me since last Spring. To be honest, my past six months have been a haze of mourning, empty-nesting-adjustment and kitchen demolition. My “response-tank” was on empty, but I want those who haven’t heard from me to know that their efforts were very much appreciated. The emails, phone calls and condolence cards have helped me to begin to process my grief.

At the same time, it’s been wrenching to witness the world-wide storm destruction. Our very existence has never seemed so precious and so fleeting. As George Harrison observed, “Life goes on within you and without you.”

So where do I find myself now? My main realization is that personal grief continues to follow a course that is beyond my control. Some days I’m OK and some days I’m not. But as I emerge from this six month fog, I’m sensing that I have new work to do. Special work.

I’ve been hearing a quiet, but insistent whisper that tells me to look into hospice service – to take my experience with my mom and use it to help patients who are terminally ill, in order to make their last days and those of their family members more comfortable and peaceful. I feel I was blessed by being allowed to witness the positive impact of hospice services on my mother’s last weeks and that honoring that phase of life helped all of us to better deal with her transition. I’d like to do the same for others.

Otherwise, life continues to be good even if it’s messy at the moment and we’re constantly losing our keys. The kitchen renovation is coming along, although everything always takes longer than you think it will. Thank goodness I teach time management! ;-)

The kids are doing well in college – Lauren is finishing up her senior year at UNC – Chapel Hill, and AJ is enjoying his freshman year there also. Empty-nesting means that I’m free to work on my new book whenever I want, which is definitely a mixed blessing because I can’t use children as an excuse anymore.

The theme for this period of life seems to be Simplification. Re-organizing our attic has forced us to accept that we have somehow turned the corner from accumulating stuff to needing to distribute stuff. There’s just not enough space anymore to keep taking it all in. This is tough to accept for a nostalgic little collector like myself, but it’s reality. I’m looking seriously at ways to preserve and remember, without having to trip over things or keep them clean.

And we keep learning. I’ve discovered yoga, which I like, and I'm going back to the Fitness Center, which I don’t like but which I’m doing because I’d rather be healthy than not. Yes, there are people who embrace change, and there are others who have to be dragged kicking and screaming. I used to consider myself among the latter, but I’m accepting now that time moves on for a reason. Sometimes you have to get with the program or suffer trying to maintain the status quo.

Most importantly, I’m giving thanks. How lucky we are to have each other!

I’m endeavoring to re-center myself in the world, knowing that my parents would want me to move onward and outward, rather than hang on to what was. Being in this new place feels very strange and every now and then I feel like running back to the familiar and the more comfortable. Truth be told, I miss football Sundays with them like crazy. But I’ve also begun to realize that if I stand on my tip-toes, I can see beyond this vantage point, and visualize possibilities for adventure that I never would have considered before.

I’m glad we’re all in this together. I’ll keep you posted on my part of the trek.

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“The fatal metaphor of progress, which means leaving things behind us, has utterly obscured the real idea of growth, which means leaving things inside us.”

-- Gilbert Keith Chesterton