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What
A Trip It's Been
The past two and a half months have been a journey to the outer reaches of my known world. I’ve always thought of the “future” as what lay on the other side of a wall that I’d eventually reach in a slow-paced, timely manner, but somehow I got pole-vaulted over it with no warning. And now I’m picking myself up off the ground and looking around at an unfamiliar landscape. Two years ago, when my dad died, I was a daughter with one remaining parent. When my mom passed away this past May, I became a daughter with no remaining parents – a mid-life orphan. In August my son leaves for college and I become an empty-nester. Next year my husband will retire from a 30 year career. What the h*** happened? I’m nothing if not resilient, and I’ve always relied on this attribute of my personality. But simple resilience doesn’t seem to be what’s called for here. A tornado has deposited me in some sort of Oz, in front of a road I’ve never seen before. Various Munchkins are encouraging me to dance down this road, but I wonder how to do that when I have no idea where I’m going. The Me I know has always relied on at least somewhat-familiar road signs to point the way: College Student was fairly straightforward, as were Wife and Parent. Divorcee was do-able, as was Single Mother (even of Teen-Age-Children) and Second Marriage. I managed Entrepreneur and Writer, too. But somehow those transitions seemed more gradual. I know that part of my feeling of being overwhelmed is the shock of my mother’s death, and my naturally on-going grief. But as my brother and I cleared out her condo in preparation for its sale, I was aware that my second half of life had begun. No longer do I see myself primarily defined as someone’s child, or someone’s parent. I’ve begun to come into my own. This recognition was brought home to me through a powerful juxtaposition: My brother and I had split up, and packed up, the belongings of my parents which we wished to save. I drove back to New Jersey with about 10 plastic containers and temporarily deposited them in my daughter’s room (she’s away at college for the summer) until I could go through everything and haul it up to the attic. To no one’s real surprise, I couldn’t bring myself to look at the containers. It was/is too soon. Instead I stared at the boxes, with their backdrop of stuffed animals from Lauren’s childhood. Everything – past and present – had come together. Realizing that I was in fact feeling paralyzed, I decided to go ahead and move my parents’ possessions to the attic until I was ready to re-visit them. That decision helped me to accept that the time has come to move on. Or as Joan Anderson (A Year By The Sea) has phrased it – “recycle” myself. So here I am at Act II. Older and wiser? Definitely older. The one thing I know for sure is that I have many new experiences to share, and a lot of additional good advice from what I’ve directly dealt with regarding organization and aging, organization and down-sizing, organization and college. Plus observations on our continually-evolving spirits. I would like to help my readers and clients deal with the challenges of growing more fully into ourselves even as we care for families going in different directions. I still believe that every one of us has something unique to share, and that by telling each other our stories, we can help to spread that uniqueness around. In other words, I’m back, and ready to pick up the reins by writing my newsletter on a more regular basis. As always, thank you for your interest, and your support, and let me know if there are any subjects in particular that you would like to hear more about. ************************************* “As every flower fades and as all youth -- Herman Hesse  |
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