Grief is an interesting monster. One that feels comfortable in the dark or the sunlight. It can rise up to stand as tall as a giant but be light on its feet. Moving so fast you can’t hold on to it, yet still in grief’s shadow. Or the monster can shrink down to sit in your hand, but be so heavy that you have to use both hands to hold it. Its weight making your knees bend, taking all your energy just to stay upright.
I am sad.
I am sad because of the passing of my mom. And I know part of the lingering feeling is that we will have the memorial for her in September, when all the family can be there. A milestone in the grieving process has not happened.
But there have been other milestones that have fed the monster. She passed away just a few days from her birthday and a few weeks before my parents’ 52 anniversary. Life moments that should have been celebrations.
I am sad.
I am sad because death is the end of the story. Even while my mom was in the hospital, there was hope, there was the idea of tomorrow. So many things that were possible with tomorrow. There isn’t now. There is no tomorrow. There is no today. I used to send pictures to “Mom and Dad” on my phone. Now, I send them to just “Dad”.
That’s why I am sad.
The monster attacks without warning. I never know the monster’s size or its intent. I only know that I am sad.
The first poem in my book, April 2020, is “To the Old Man Gardening During the Pandemic”. The poem chronicles my encounter with an older gentleman as he was gardening. I was on a walk, which I did a lot during the lockdown. This man’s house has a big backyard with a variety of flora. I had seen him out in his garden over the years. Of course, the poem (and book) are centered on life during the pandemic.
Flash forward to now. Even with the craziness of the summer, I have been walking on a regular basis. I had noticed that I had not seen the gentleman out in his garden, even though it still looked good. Yesterday I found out why.
He’s gone.
I do not know what happened to him. For once I was too shy to ask the person out front of the house closing up a moving trailer. The backyard had one of those little kid cars (the blue one with a red hood), a hot tube, and other toys that meant that a young family had moved into the house.
He was gone.
I stood at the yield sign at the T-junction where most of his flowers are trying not to cry. This summer has been filled with drastic moments that changed my life. Some joyful and exciting (my oldest son starting his career). Others have cracked my spirit. And standing next to the flowers this gentleman spent so much time caring for pushed my heart to the edge.
I wondered what the new family would do with the backyard. I envied the children, they will love the space (the house sits on two lots). But what will they do with the trellis? Will they keep the roses? His home and garden was becoming a home for a new family.
The old man gardening during the pandemic is gone. But I remember him. And his garden.
Yesterday’s post shared an anecdote that showed how important small talk is, how talking about the weather can build a connection… I also shared how I am not good at small talk because I would rather talk about deeper aspects of life… I’m sharing a song below as part of this introduction, “Here I Go Again” by Casting Crowns
This song was written by Mark Hall after he loss a friend to suicide. Mark knew he was struggling, yet, they never really talked about it. Mark shared the story at a concert almost 20 years ago. (It was the first concert I took my oldest son to; he is the fan of Casting Crowns.)
“Here I Go Again” shares the real struggle we have in talking about deep and important issues in our lives. Like in the song, “But that old familiar fear is tearing at my words / What am I so afraid of?” I wonder keeps us from really diving into issues that really make a difference in our lives. Why don’t we tell people we love them more? Like everyday! Why don’t we discuss the hardships we face chasing our dreams? What are we hiding from? What are we afraid of?
There is no clear and easy answer to this because each person has their own fears, their own histories. And we do have deep conversations with friends, but not very often. We do tell people we love them, just not enough. I understand the role trust plays in conversations, and I don’t trust many people at all, but I’m not afraid to talk about deep or interesting things.
I don’t know how to conquer your fear, or anyone’s. But I believe we need to move beyond the weather in our conversations. Build strong bonds instead of quick social connections. Tell people we love them more, hug them more. Our lives are complex and deep experiences, we should share that. You never know who you’ll connect with or what you will learn.
I’m laughing as I write this because I had a memory from decades ago when I asked my brother-in-law, who is a farmer, if he ever thought about where his crops go in this world, who might eat his corn.
He looked at me and said, “Cows eat my corn, this is a feed crop. Not a human crop.”
A moment of truth here, I am not very good at lawn care or maintaining our landscaping. Our lawn is a mess. I spent three hours pulling weeds and trimming our plants. I have two fingers with bruises beneath the fingernails. Yes, it hurts to type this post tonight.
At one time our lawn was fine. Then for five summers we traveled with our second son as he played AAU basketball. Since this April we have traveled home to see my mom (she passed away in June) or been helping with the transition of my in-laws to assisted living or moving our first son to his new town. Add that we do not have underground sprinklers. Combine that with the simple fact that I do not have the foundational knowledge of lawn care and you get my lawn. And bruised fingers.
As the sun heated my back this afternoon I thought about one of my dadisms, “Do the small things and big things don’t happen.” If we spend a little time working on the small things, spending the time taking care of routine activities, bigger issues don’t usually happen.
My fingers prove that point. The landscaping looks good. The lawn? Not yet, but I am working on that tomorrow.
Now, for the twist, I am happy with my lawn. Its condition shows that I was spending time holding my mom’s hands, feeding her ice chips, getting to see her days before she passed away.
The lawn shows that I spent time traveling every summer to see my son play basketball. I learned a hard lesson during that time (blog post about that lesson), but I wouldn’t exchange the memories with my son and wife for a green lawn.
I will be working on getting my lawn back, I mean we have games of capture the flag to play. But, if you drive by my house, remember that my lawn looks the way it does because of the choices I’ve made to spend my time on other aspects of my life. I’ve got bruised fingers and a full heart to prove it.
My youngest daughter said I should write about horses.
So, this post will be about horses.
I’m scared of horses.
For decades, the family would meet in South Dakota for Thanksgiving. My aunt and uncle had horses. The tradition didn’t change when I had my own family, but we did have to get hotel rooms as my family grew. We have so many pictures of my children riding the horses. Sometimes bundled up in coats with the sun shining. But not a single picture of me on a horse.
When I was a senior in high school I tried riding one of the horses. My uncle guided the horse around the front fence line, which had recently been repaired. The horse spotted some rope left on the ground, wrapped up and looking like a snake. The horse reacted by rearing up. I was spooked, too, and fell off.
I know, not the coolest story, not even that big of a serious reaction. But for someone who spent much of his life in big cities; I was shook. And I have never been on a horse since.
Their presence is strong. I don’t have the confidence to match their energy. My kids just laugh and wave as they enjoy riding horses when they can. I just smile and wave back.
And now some words from my guest blogger, my youngest daughter (9 years old):
One time we went to Wisconsin and this one place you could ride horses in a carriage when my dad said that we were gonna go one day I was blasted with energy and joy so we went I ran to the line and when they were getting ready we pet the horses I ran to every horse petting them over and over again I also got to flick a switch on the ride, we rode in between the canyons and when we got back we went into the shop and that’s when I met my best friend canyon, shes a horse stuffed animal, horses are truly beautiful and kind.
Do you get frustrated when you have to wait for a train? What happens when a second train comes across on the other set of tracks?
We have a double set of tracks we have to deal with on our most convenient route from our neighborhood. And yep, have had the situation where a second train comes speeding the other way as the first train passes by the crossbars.
I’ve had to take a deep breath to keep the frustration from spilling into the air of the car.
But I haven’t gone through that routine in a while, my third daughter changed my perspective on the moment. And now, I enjoy being stopped by a train because it means more time…for music!
About two years ago we were headed home from school. As we approached the railroad crossing the red lights started blinking and the crossbars slowly came down. By chance a song my girls liked (I don’t remember what it was) was playing on the radio. They were singing as they still do, and my third daughter noticed the crossbars coming down. In flow with the song she said,”Yes! More time to listen to music!”
I had just taken that first frustrated breath, but held it for a second, then just let it go and sang with my daughters. When we are stopped by a train now, I sometimes say, “Oh, more time to listen to music!” If there is a good song on, I turn it up and we sing.
This morning I saw five, five cars run red lights. Three of them at our major intersections. (Where, yes, most of the accidents happen in our town.)
I wonder where people are going in such a hurry. On the street with the railroad tracks, you see people turn around and find a different route when a train comes. Honestly, most trains are through the intersection before you can get to the overpass route.
My daughter reminded me that we are in control of our response to time. How we decided to respond to small moments. How we spend, even a few minutes, watching a train go by. We will be singing to the radio.
For my regular readers, you know the importance of the tradition of making blueberry muffins this morning. We had bacon and scrambled eggs, as is the norm now. We had left over tortillas so I made a breakfast burrito. So, good!
I had to miss a Twitter Space started by one of the members of the writing group I am a part of on Twitter because of breakfast.
Why did I mention that? Because this post is about the power of traditions or routines, both in the real world and the digital world.
Again, if you read my blog on even a semi-regular basis, you know about our family tradition on Sunday morning. How important it is for us to spend time together. My second son who lives in town usually still makes it to Sunday breakfast. It keeps our family bond strong.
The writing group I belong to has a routine of starting spaces, especially in the mornings. In fact many times they are in a space before I have even had a cup of coffee. During the school year, I find time to stop in to listen or chat before the school day starts but not on a consistent basis.
Honestly, their morning routine is no different than my father-in-law meeting with his buddies to drink coffee at the local McDs. It’s just in digital form.
Recently, a handful of the group has been able to meet in real life. They have traveled to see each other, went to open mics, or had ice cream together. I am a little jealous and feel a little bit like an outsider in the group. Not because of anything the group has done, but I share my feelings to reinforce the power of routines or traditions.
Almost every morning the group starts a space. In fact, if a member needs to talk they will start a space at any time and people will join to talk with that person. They have a routine in the morning that connects them. That has built such strong friendships that they are connecting in real life. Relationships are strengthened by shared experiences, shared routines, shared traditions.
It doesn’t matter if it is in real life or in a digital space. It doesn’t have to be every day. My best friend and I have a tradition of making CDs or playlists of our top 20 songs… that year, the last decade, or even of all time. Just depends on when we decide to make the list. (Yes, we will make CD mixes and mail them to each other.)
Traditions or routines are one of the elements to the quality of our lives. Whether it is a personal routine, for me taking a walk each day (lots of writing ideas come to me), or a Twitter Space every morning that allows the members to build friendships by sharing successes or hardships. These purposeful moments bring us joy, help us through tough days, and create meaning to our everyday life.
If life seems shallow or lacking in connections, I challenge you to evaluate your routines. What traditions do you wish you had? What connections do you want to make? There just might be a Twitter Space dedicated to that…
My mom passed away at home as dad held her hand on June 9. Just four days from her 69th birthday. She battled cancer for five months, but we didn’t know it was cancer until April. My wife and I made a quick trip home in April. I wrote a tweet to share with my Twitter friends that my mom was sick and that my engagement on Twitter would be erratic.
Over the last few months I gave quick updates for my friends and colleagues of my mom’s journey.
My wife and I again headed home on June 3 because my mom was in the hospital. Again, I sent a quick update for those who know me. I also recorded my poetry lesson for Move Me Poetry on the way home. I was scheduled to provide the lesson for Tuesday. My mom was released on Sunday, things were looking good. So we headed home on Monday.
My dad texted me Friday morning (June 9) that she had passed. I called my brother, called my two sons, and broke down sharing the news with my four daughters that afternoon. Then I tweeted the news on Twitter.
Why am I sharing this? Because something powerful happened.
As I am writing this blog, that tweet has been seen 15,684 times. It has been retweeted, liked, and commented on thousands of times. What happened? Why did this simple tweet make its way to so many people and why did they care enough to interact with me? I have some thoughts…
First, and the most important thing, is that some aspects of life connect us on an important level. Grief, heartbreak, but also joy and love are emotions and moments we all share. The stories are different, but at some point we have to deal with the loss of someone important to us. We all grieve, yes in our own way because of the uniqueness of our stories, but we feel that loss.
Some of the interactions with my tweet were of the stories of people losing their mothers, some just as recent as mine and others were years ago but they still missed their mom.
I tried (and I think I did) to respond in some way to everyone that left a comment or an emoticon for me. There were some small but powerful conversations because of sharing the pain of the moment.
For a few days, I have connected with strangers because we shared a common moment, understood a powerful emotion. For others, they simply wanted me (a stranger to them) to know that they understood and cared.
That’s a powerful thing. I wonder what this world would be like if we could do this in the real world, on an everyday basis.
The second aspect isn’t about the tweet, but the stories, including mine and my family’s.
I mentioned that people did share their stories, as best they could in the space Twitter gives us. And life is not that simple, and neither is death.
As a dad I broke the news to my children. The three oldest took it the hardest because they have had their grandparents involved in their lives for over 19 years. Summer vacation, Thanksgiving trips, graduations and other big moments.
My youngest three have had their grandparents in their lives too, but that relationship has been different and less interactions. (We now spend Thanksgiving at our own home instead of traveling.) I realized that they all had their own story with their grandma.
My dad lost his wife. He held her hand as she passed, married over 40 years.
She was one person, who played so many parts in different life stories… her death is just as complex. As is our lives.
My wife has said a number of times that life never lets you handle just one thing. It doesn’t. As my mom’s health declined, my oldest daughter was graduating and we had college orientations. My youngest had art camp the week of my mom’s death. We moved our oldest son to his new town as he starts his first year teaching, then moved my wife’s parents into assisted living and then headed home to see my mom the first week of June.
Life will not allow us to handle just one thing at a time, it is a complex mix of joys and heartaches. Stress and good music. Eating on the road and tweeting to friends. But it is also, just sitting, holding the hand of your mother, trying to give her all the love you were going to share with her in the future.
At the end of the tweet, which is now at 15,753 views, I wrote that we should say “I Love You” more, laugh more, and that life is a gift.
I hope that message goes viral for everyone today, and each day they are given to experience this life.
You have heard songs about it, read other articles or blog posts about it, heck, you might have an inspirational poster about it. About not taking today for granted.
But sometimes life gives each of us dots to reinforce ideas. And life has been giving me a ton of dots to connect lately, even as I sit down to write this post, the first song to play on my “Writing” playlist was “Numbered Days” by Eels, not kidding. (The song will be at the end of this post for you to enjoy.)
Earlier this week my mom had a sudden medical emergency. She is doing well, back home. We are still waiting to understand the reason for the situation, but things are good now. but a moment like that sets your mind racing with so many “what if” questions. Some are based in the moment, while other questions center on the future. Every minute becomes a question mark.
Honestly, tomorrow is a question mark. Really, the next minute of my life is a question mark. Life can change in a second. Life can turn 90 degrees with a decision and be off in a new direction.
We all know this, we all have experienced these moments that for a while challenge us to be more grateful for our family and friends. To make that decision to go after a dream we put away for tomorrow. I do it, too. Then life falls into a routine.
This morning we had blueberry muffins for breakfast. There was scrambled eggs and sausage. We talked about the college basketball upsets. If you are a regular reader you know this is what we do on most Sundays. This is a routine, and I share this because there are great moments in the routine of our lives. These types of moments give us joy and love, even if my girls hate my energy in the morning; they know I love them when I call them “Sunshine Bears” when I see them in morning.
But there is a depth to our lives we let go of when we live as a routine. When we waste time just going through the motions, or sit and just watch other people live life on social media. Yes, today is a gift. I was getting into the car after track practice on Friday. The sky was a mess, a small rain storm was approaching from the north, but the south sky was blue and filled with little white fluffy clouds that were shifting their shapes with the wind. I was hit with a deep thought…
I have never seen the same cloud shape ever in my life, and I never will. Think about that for a moment.
Yes, I will see the same kind of skies, but each cloud is a unique aspect of the moment. The wind changes the edges of the clouds, like it does for us if we pay attention to how life is giving us this moment to breathe, to love, to feel the edges of ourselves, stark and sharp, against time.
Life may be hard right now for you. You may be experiencing the greatest moment ever right now. I don’t know because we all have our own time in this life. It is a gift, to be opened and to be lived. Tomorrow is a question mark, but right now should be an exclamation mark!
A few days ago we were talking about karma, about why it seemed that people who do bad things always seem to win. To be popular. Last night you opened up about the friendship situation. I connected the dots.
Junior high is a minefield. It is hard to judge what the next step will bring. Add the state of our society, social media, and the challenge of just being a teenager, and it feels like the world is in chaos.
There is nothing I can do or say that will change the outside world. I hope that maybe this open letter can help you navigate the next couple of years and help you discover the beautiful soul that you are.
First, friendship is one of the foundations of who we are. But it is also fickle and can actually be destructive. Our friendships make or break us. Even after all these years, and our own rough spots, my best friend is an important part of my life. But many of the other friends I’ve had over the years are not a part of my everyday life. Right now, it feels like you should have a huge group of friends. I understand the need to feel “liked” by everyone. To be honest, even adults have that desire, but real friendship is a serious relationship. And it is hard sifting through the fake and real relationships in junior high, let alone the rest of your life.
Real friendship is earned. If you find yourself asking for friendship, that person is not a friend. Let them go. Know that honest friendship builds you up, supports you. You should never have to ask to be loved. This is a hard truth, but it’s true.
Second, guard your heart, but never close it. This is hard to write as a father because I want this world to be a beautiful place for you. But there is so much pain and hurt in this world caused by people who want to do bad things. Oh how I wish this wasn’t so because there is such beauty and joy to experience in this life. We have experienced it! But our hearts are the most important aspect of who we are. Our hearts are strong, yet can be damaged with a single word or action… and that damage is hard to heal. I know, even now I deal with the pain everyday from the wounds people inflicted on me.
Guard your heart, just don’t close it.
Third, mom and I are always here. Home is our sanctuary. If you simply need a hug, find me. I love you.
It is all Connected 