A Complicated Beautiful

Today was a day.

It started this morning early–literally at the crack of dawn. The phone rang, and I groggily reached for it in the semi-darkness. When the phone rings at that hour, you know it can’t be good.

She’s gone.

We knew the end was coming, and the past couple of weeks it seemed sooner rather than later…and then the time of her last breath came precipitously. Sudden. Hadn’t expected it this week…maybe even this month.

One by one, I woke junior tribe members from slumber to give them their turn at the phone to hear the news. It’s hard to call a person you love to the phone knowing the news they are about to receive…hard to gently whisper, “Come to the phone.” And when they ask why, to simply and softly repeat, “Come…come to the phone…please.”

I go to work and start the day with a call from a colleague excited to ask for reference and to share how they look forward to further exploring hiring someone near and dear to me. I’m excited about the prospect for her…and for the employer. New beginnings where people can use their talents just seem like a perfect gift…and I get a front row seat at the unwrapping!

I go to school, and look into 46 sets of eyes as I explain to them how we will spend classes in the fall teaching them to deeply understand another…and to help the other understand themselves better than before. They look a little terrified as I explain to them how they will learn by doing, how the only way to learn to talk deeply with clients is to talk deeply with people, but I am delighted by the earnestness and anticipation they have of becoming better clinicians. Their enthusiasm is contagious.

I scramble through rush hour to get to the church. The memorial service starts at 5:00 for an old friend. M was married to C…we are old friends from long ago. Back then, C confided to me that M was using drugs, and when the time came that he crossed a line of “using” when he was home alone with kids, she took a deep breath followed through with the promise she had made to herself..and asked him to leave. M had no place to go…so he came to stay with us for a while until he could figure things out. M was a thinker, a contemplator. He wanted to be sober, but there were some serious factors that triggered his addiction. He worked at staying clean for many years with up and downs to his success…there were great times where he was successful, and other times when he wasn’t. It’s been a rough road in recent years.

A month ago, M found out he had cancer…and he opted to not get treatment, but to let the cancer do its thing. Today I was at his service. His children…and he had a passle of ’em…his children were the service. Each of them stood to say their piece..as was his wish.

Children say goodbye to their father, mourning his death and his love for them, having grieved the father he never was.

The kids…ranging from late adolescents to adults…they were real…there were tears and sobs, and giggles and laughs…they spoke of the way their dad loved them, but how his best often was still very painful. Some danced for their dad…right in the service. One daughter spoke of how it was a complicated beautiful in the last month…they read from his journal…things he wrote only 3 weeks ago about his thoughts as he prepared himself and his children for his death. He wrote of how he was grateful it was cancer, not a heart attack…giving him time with his children to say good-bye. The children spoke of the last month and how healing and redemptive it had been. They spoke of laughing as they watched movies that were familiar from long ago, great times of cuddling and loving…ways of being with him that they had longed for.

You see, there were years of estrangement, anger, bitterness, and resentment. He loved them, but the addictions meant they had to draw boundaries to protect themselves. He loved them, and he told them that, and they each had a story or two that truly embodied that. They had even more untold stories they alluded to that told of feelings of betrayal and pain, and disappointments.

Then they showed a slide show of pictures of the last month…pictures where he was skinny and dying; a gaunt face laced with pain; death pallor hung heavy…but with laughter and smiling and cuddles and hugs. They explained that though we might see morbid sickness looking at the pictures, they saw joy and love; reconciliation and forgiveness; reconnecting and reunification…they had a month to make peace with him. He had a month to live a life devoted to letting his kids know of his love for them, of his pride in them, and of his joy when he was with them. This pile of grown up kids loved these pictures and invited us to look past the illness to see the beauty in them. It was a complicated beauty, to be sure.

On my way home, I dropped by the office and Roshonna and Deanna were there…Deanna said something funny, and I remember throwing my head back in laughter…and it felt totally good to bust a gut.

The ping pong effect continues…in between travel plans, cancelling appointments, debriefing with junior tribe members wrapping their heads around her death, and ensuring proper funeral clothes, the brand new gym shoes arrived in them mail with much excitement. As I look forward to spending time with C tomorrow afternoon and hearing of her experiences of spending time with grieving children this last week, I also prep for a 50th anniversary celebration planning meeting tomorrow evening

Earlier today I posted a blog post about resilience…I drafted it last night, completely unaware of how intensely the day’s events would unfold little realizing how my own resources of resilience would be challenged today.

It was a day…but I’ll be OK…and I had seven kids give me seven examples of resilience..