With Meaning

I write because it helps me reflect on the stories that we live.  I share a lot...sometimes to the shock of family and to the vexatiousness of friends - I know acquaintances love it.  But I do it because the more people that I open up to feel a connection with, the more compassionate I become.  The more meaning we make in our lives, the more meaningfully we live. 

This blog usually reflects not typical milestones of my life, but the tone of it.  What we, as a family, have been feeling and experiencing.

When I think back over the last several months I remember how frantic and stressed, overwhelmed and annoyed I've felt.  I've been scowling over the smallest things, screaming over the larger ones.

We all do it.  The "broken" shower stall, the muddy prints on the clean tile, brownie batter eaten and not baked, asthma & allergies, temper tantrums, mispronunciations, moving.  It's all relative, I suppose.   

"I had an awful day..."
...we say it all the time.  When nothing awful has happened at all. 

They are the things we beg for when the really awful things happen. 

My best friend's dad passed away last week.  Which in and of itself is devastating...but this was made all the worse because she lost her mom 13 years ago. 

Big Jack was loved by everybody that knew him, someone you felt lucky to know.  His son gave an experienced and perfect eulogy to him.  In it he talked about how much his mother believed in his dad and in turn, how much his dad believed in his children.  But even as a friend of his daughter's I felt that...He believed in all of them, he did, but I felt that he believed in me and I felt loved by him - never judged.  I could take anything to him and his opinion of me wouldn't change.  He would have bailed me out of jail and then called my dad for me. I feel certain of that.  I don't know how many times in high school I would talk to him about things that were bothering me...how "unfair" my parents were, when I couldn't talk to them - because they were my parents.  He would help me with my perspective...which was usually the same as mom & dad's but he did it in a pretty clever way.  Eventhough he didn't "agree" with me (especially about me saying "no" to UGA)...I always felt like he was on my "side".  Occasionally over the years, even as an adult, I took some pretty heavy stuff to him...and he was always supportive...in a cool way.  And he would give advice that didn't make me feel like I was being "told" what to do.  That's a pretty special thing.  I appreciated him, and I trusted him.

My friend's dad was loved by my family.  He was honest and smart and funny as hell; with a big smile on his face and an equally big hug.  He was a great big "oak tree" for his family and "his roots ran deep".  Maybe he delievered his children to a point in their lives when he knew that they would be okay... and now he's with his wife again. 

If I lost a parent it would break me.  If I lost them both I don't know how I would survive.  My dad's boating accident (in part) catapulted me into therapy!  It gave me nightmares for weeks.  When you have parents that love you and believe in you, you know you'll never be alone.  You feel like you can do anything because they believe you can.  They're a sounding board and a compass and constant encouragement and support.  Forget that they help you move and paint and babysit...which we can almost take for granted on the simple days.  

My friend is strong and smart, brave and admirable.  My life is infinitely richer because she and her family have been a part of it.   

But sitting with my friend, holding her new baby, I had nothing to say.  Because there isn't anything to say.  Except that I know she will survive...because she's done it before...which is the unfairest of all.

I went home and I held my girls.  When I woke up the next morning, I wanted them with me.  And I wanted to be with my friend.

I have been struggling with my anxiety for months, in therapy, indulging my woes. 

Those struggles...the worries...they've vanished.  That sounds flippant.  But really.  We played in leaves this afternoon, Charlotte skipped school yesterday, and we have made time to tickle and laugh.  When they climbed into bed with us early this morning, way before it was time to get up, Adam & I snuggled up with them, instead of ordering them back to their room.

I called my therapist yesterday and told her I really didn't need to come this week.  I don't have anything I need to talk about anymore.  I went ahead and cancelled next week too. 

All of those things seem so "quaint" now.  The massive fallout with a sibling, a terrible accident, long hours at work, gaining 20 pounds, relocating, the housing market, debt...

When tragedy strikes you wonder: would it have helped if we could have seen it coming?  If we had known that those were the best moments of our lives...

Big Jack always has helped me with my perspective.