Walking with grief...

The hubs and I drive west on the interstate toward the farmers' market.  A couple of weeks ago we drove the same route to the Uptown Art Fair.  We have driven this route more times than I can begin to count over the last 7 or so years.  This time it feels so very different, a huge change.

And now our journey is over.  Or at least the routine has changed.  Forever.

We've driven to a senior residence where our loved ones lived for so many of their last years.  Norman was there first and ended up staying, living his last years in memory care.  Brenda went into assisted living 5 years ago and last December after a fall that was devastating, she moved into memory care.  Her last four months were in hospice.  And she moved to heaven a few weeks ago.  We were not blood, but she called us their "appointed family."

Twice a week for years now.  Twice a week I would drive to see her.  On Mondays after I taught my yoga class I would go by myself for what she called our "girl visits." Fridays the hubs and I would go together and take a pot of coffee (she hated the stuff made at the residence) and a small nip of Irish for her to enjoy for what she said was her "happy hour" to start the weekend.  Many visits we would stroll down two levels to see Norman until 2020 when Covid took him quickly.  The same route, the same routine and as happens when death steps into the picture, the routine changes the route drastically.

Everything changes now.  What was routine for so long is now left to the ambiguous.

The homeless man on the exit off Penn avenue...when will I/we see him again?  We have things for him every trip...hand and toe warmers for his shoes, blankets we get from others who pass them along to us so that we may donate to the people on the exits.  We have socks, hats and gloves we get from Costco in bundles and keep in the back of our cars to give out to the homeless.  Sweatshirts, sweaters and donated coats, protein bars and water...the backseat is always full of things to pass along.  The gentleman at Penn was always so very grateful and thanks us...who will bring him things this coming winter to keep him safe and warm?

Because now the route is done.  It has all changed.

Walking with grief is a precarious path.  There is the road we take that lets us sigh that enormous sigh that they are at peace.  The hard fight is over and they are light and young again laughing and enjoying reunions with loved ones.  There is the path left to walk that is a roller coaster of sorts.  The racing to the bottom of the hill in a feeling of blurring speed to get arrangements handled and contacts made.  The slow purposeful climb up the hill feeling in dealing with endless paperwork and detail.  The numbness of going through belongings left; items once treasured that now have no home or meaning it seems.  The emptiness of standing at the cemetery wondering which spot they will be in.

There are those moments that are enveloped in grief that you want to laugh at the absurdity of some things and yet you wonder to each other if it would be disrespectful to utter that chuckle.  The solemn discussion with a funeral director that our beloved "appointed family" members wanted to be co-mingled and he informs you that you need to shop for an urn online because they don't have companion urns at the funeral home.  Questioning where to look, he suggests you start looking first on Amazon, maybe Costco or Target or Walmart.  And on the drive home, the hubs and I agree that you just can't make this up...shopping for a final resting spot online.

The sincere, beautiful, loving compassion and empathy shown by every single government worker we came into contact with who helped with scheduling the interment at the national cemetery.  She wanted to honor his naval service during World War II.  She spoke often of the beautiful ceremony that would be a "send off."  But in her detailed instructions to me regarding their final resting arrangements she was specific that they NOT be put in the ground.  "If you can find a spot there NOT in the ground, that would be lovely!"  

And we did.  But, sweet sufferin' jazus the hurdles to get there...

And with each hurdle, we encountered another pitfall and another kind soul to soften that fall.  Kind people who offered condolences and called after their work hours to let us know that the next step had been completed and it would not be much more on the path to getting them interred.  Government employees who, I am quite certain, encounter loved ones grieving who probably shout, swear and berate them in frustration.  And they, every single one, were so kind and patient with our questions and constant calls.

And in all of this, when will we have time to grieve...

And how will it play out?  

I remember when my parents died, six months apart, I was in constant motion until right after we sold the house and the hubs and I returned from a vacation away.  He asked me about planting hostas behind the deck and I told him of a specific type I wanted there.  When he asked where we'd get them, I replied "I'll have to call my mom and ask where she found hers."  His jaw dropped.  As will happen, you forget that they are gone from earth and make a statement like that.  They had been gone almost a year and it was the first time I'd done that.

The wheels came off the cart at that point and I was a hot mess for months.  I sat and watched Dr. Phil for a solid month...that tells you how bad it was :)  

So how will it play out now that we do not make Friday trips to Brenda with coffee and Jameson?  How will our days feel in a few weeks when they are interred and the ceremony is done and we toast them one last time with family and friends?  How will that feel to embrace that void?

There will be a lot of paperwork and such.  There are only a few material items left to sort through.  A new routine.  A new path.  Conversations with them both will be one-way.  But we are blessed with their family as our own now.

As life paths play out, people come and go.  Some of them have been lessons, some foundations, some blessings.  Brenda's two octogenarian sisters could not be more a part of our heart if we were blood, as well as their families.  Norman's niece and nephew are new to us but quickly have become a lovely part of our lives.  

Grief can create in your mind's eye that cold, grey space that leaves you feeling profoundly and completely empty.  That void in your gut that feels like you have a hole in your very soul.  That heaviness in your chest that feels like you can't catch your breath.  It is the physical pain, the mental anguish, the emotional devastation of losing someone you love and knowing that though they are still "there," they are not truly there for you as they have always been.

But, if you have never grieved, never truly felt it...you've never truly and deeply loved.

Grateful for a dear friend...

It has taken me so long to put my thoughts, my heart to my post here.  Every time I began to write this one the words would not come because grief was too strong still and the shock hung thick over me like the winter clouds that are perpetual here in the upper midwest winter.  But here I go again to try to put into words my pal Mike.

Ubuntu. I was listening to the podcasts with the late Nelson Mandela and he spoke of ubuntu.  It seemed to describe Mike and everyone he touched.  I am because we are.  He touched and influenced SO many!

Mike moved to Heaven a couple of months ago and left an enormous void for everyone he touched.  The last time a passing hit me this hard was one of my besties, Sherry.  I still think "I should text Mike about this court decision, it will be good conversation for our next Zoom meeting."  Or his next book to add to the list...

And such was the case last November.  I started writing this as I learned Mike was gone and will try to sum up what his friendship to me was.  And if you read my blog,  you know that I write entirely from my heart...

So the roll of emotion with losing my friend began last fall when I had the opportunity to go to Costco unsupervised one afternoon.  I note that it was unsupervised because I love to just stroll the store alone.  One of my favorite strolls in that store is the book table.  Though of late it is a bit lacking when it comes to publications on my wish list.  Nevertheless, I always give it a quick look when I am there.  Such was the case recently when I found a book on Abraham Lincoln and knew exactly who I would buy the book for.  My friend Mike.  We were colleagues, he was a mentor and an amazing friend over the span of many, many years.  This was just up his alley!  I prepared a box with a note and bound it up to send off but realized I did not have his address handy.  I set the box aside and for a stretch of days forgot all about it.

A few days later I texted him that I had this great book to send him and about an hour later a reply text from his daughter told me that Mike has passed away 3 days earlier.  

These are the gut punches that take some time moving beyond.  I knew that Mike was in the process of battling cancer, but this I did not expect.  How do I process that my remarkable friend, mentor and zoom buddy is no longer present?  He was a dear friend I never expected to connect with...it was pure chance that we became good friends.

More than two decades ago, I was at the annual HR conference held by my professional association and I had just passed my professional exam.  I was SO excited about this particular conference for so many reasons!  The lovely ladies that I roomed with each year had gone to the nearby dollar store and bought the closest thing they could get to a vase which was a toilet brush with holder and put a dozen roses in it as part of the congratulatory arrival surprise.  Accompanying my bouquet was a delightful bottle of wine named "Fat Bastard" and a t-shirt with my credentials on it.  It was a beautiful June weekend and I was excited about having passed my exam, having time with my beloved gal pals, and navigating what was typically 12,000 people and about 1200 vendors.  

Like most international conferences, there were concurrent learning sessions every day, all day.  Some years this organization really hit the mark, some years not so much.  This was a year that I found one speaker that truly made an enormous difference not only in my career but life because he became a wonderful part of my path.  Mike held a session that was not only great information I could take back to train clients but he was so open and accessible to talk to that I could not wait to engage him in conversation about some of the work scenarios I encountered.

As years went by, we stayed in touch by email and on occasion I would ask his permission to reference his copyrighted materials in my training sessions providing he got credit for creation.  As conversations expanded, Mike was that person that would email in return to my questions and send documents saying "take my training session information here and use what you can, please just credit me."  Giving this brilliant guy credit was a no brainer!  But it was so very humbling to have him share his creations with me.

As the pandemic hit us all early in 2020, Mike suggested that we have zoom "meetings" though all we were "meeting" about was catching up on what we were doing.  Mike's beloved wife Joanie was a nurse (not long ago retired) and he was so very proud to tell about her hard work and long hours caring for people going through so much.  He delighted in telling me that his latest project was assigned by his grandson and they were building a monster truck together in the back yard.  I regularly got text messages with pictures showing the progress of the monster truck as they built and painted and created.  He told me about his daughters Danielle who lived nearby and Nicole in Boston and what was going on with them.  His pride in his family was something that I loved hearing about.  He loved the days when his grandkids were there playing in the California sunshine of his backyard.

He had the best sense of humor...just like my Dad and father-in-law; that dry humor that if you don't know it, you're not sure if the person is kidding or not.  I loved it because it reminded me of Dad and my father-in-law; two men I adored but are no longer here with me.  Mike announced to me one "meeting" that he and Joanie were going to buy a camper and come park in our driveway for a week in the coming fall so that they could see the colors.  That was Mike's sense of humor because he knew the stories of the neighborhood "rules" here.

An opinion came out in 2021 from the Supreme Court and he sent me a copy and asked what I thought about it.  When Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, he let me know in no uncertain terms what side of the aisle he was on and THEN we could talk about her contribution to women's role in society.  

Mike said that he had a stack of books that he was plowing through and he was a voracious reader.  We laughed that though we shared a great deal of interest in the same subject matter, he had no desire to sit on the patio and read Nora Roberts when it came to literature.  His passion for reading inspired me to review my "stack" and commit to attacking the myriad of subjects in it.  When I mentioned that looking at the stack put me off because it felt overwhelming at times, he said to me "Oh that's easy, you just commit to one chapter a night.  If you go more, great.  But one chapter a night."  I'm working on that Mike.

We discussed spirituality a bit, thoughts about organized religion, things in life that shaped our path as we grew in our careers.  Despite some differences in ideology, we had experienced so many similar situations that were impactful and so much was congruent in how we viewed our desire to see people grow into the best iteration of themselves in their jobs.  We both loved our jobs training and teaching people to find their best, be good leaders, learn every day.

As I prepared to retire from consulting (training and leadership/management consulting) and just teach yoga and do personal training, I wanted to leave my last client with really good material.  Mike and I had a zoom date and I was fretting a bit about what I perceived as my lack of impact at this location.  Mike and I talked about some of the things that were in place at this client and he told me to check my email and read through what he was going to send.  And there it was...some of his material on training leads that he told me would work (we thought) well with my final quarter at this client site.  Why was I not surprised...kind, generous, scary smart, simply amazing.

Ubuntu.  That is you Mike.  I am because we are.  And I am most confident that from your lofty perch that you are still wondering who you could help, whose life you could help make happier/better/more productive.  You are that beloved guardian angel for Joanie, Danielle and the kids, Nicole, and all of the people who love and miss you. 

There are so many in my life I am grateful for and suddenly I am moved to write more about them.  I think that is a little of Mike's motivation as well.  Because there are so many that fit into the ubuntu definition.  I hope he can see how many people have become their best selves because of him and his influence.

So Mike, I have a great book to take to the beach on vacation.  I'm excited about it.  An autobiography that is a person who was an enormous influence on getting apartheid abolished and Mandela out of prison.  A dynamic actor and musician in a band that I love...a Renaissance man maybe?  But somehow I am guessing it's not your taste...

Stevie Van Zandt of the E Street Band, Sopranos, and Underground Garage fame.  Unrequited Infatuations is the book.

Yeah, you're more an Abraham Lincoln read.  But I'll let you know how I like it.

Keep guiding us from above my friend.  I miss our video connections and your humor.  And pictures of the monster truck.  Until we meet again... I will pass the torch and share what I can as you did with such honor to all of us.  I am so very grateful for you.