Marriage and sometimes even a love story (Part Six)

“You don’t need to do that,” Nancy, Brian’s sister said to the young respiratory technician.  She had just placed an oxygen mask over their Father’s mouth to start some treatment.   We were all standing in the hospital room around their Father’s bed, Brian, me, Nancy and her husband, Bob.  The last year had been a roller coaster of ups and downs regarding his health.  Brian was very close to his Father.    “He’s dying,” Nancy continued.  The poor young girl looked like a fawn that had just looked into the headlights of an oncoming car.  She took her machine and slithered out of the room.  “How could Nancy know that?” I asked myself. 

A moment or so later I heard a gruesome sound.  It reminded me of the sound I have heard mortally wounded animals make in TV documentaries.  It was emanating from Brian.  He was face down on the bed next to his Father’s lifeless body.  I wanted to go over and comfort Brian but I couldn’t seem to move.   That sound went on for what seemed like an eternity.   After a few minutes Brian pulled himself together.   He and Nancy went out into the hall where they made arrangements for the body.   Our wedding was to take place in less than two weeks but for now we had to plan a funeral. 

Brian and I didn’t talk on the ride home from the hospital.  I so wanted to comfort him at least one part of me did.  I had come into this relationship as a strong, independent single mother of three children who was competing in a very intense business environment.  I had just recently learned to be tough.  Instinctively I was afraid of getting sucked into the traditional female role.  Sadly I thought it would demean me.   I did not yet know how to be tough and tender.

 I felt terrible for a long time that I had failed Brian because I didn’t hug him or make any overt act to comfort him.  Emotions were very scary to me back then.  I couldn’t let my guard down.  I literally felt paralyzed from reaching out to Brian.  If only I had some time and energy to really think about all of this back then!  It might have spared Brian and I a lot of agony.

Women instinctively know how to do that stuff except for me or so I thought.  I berated myself.   I wasn’t a good wife or mother because I lacked that gene.  I wondered if I was born that way or whether the demands of the workplace and life eradicated that part of me.  I always felt inadequate especially back then so I just added this to my list of inadequacies. 

Q: Do you struggle, as I have, with the nature of the role we are supposed to play or the qualities we are supposed to possess as a wife or partner?  ( It has certainly evolved and changed dramatically since the 50s and 60s.)

Grief (Part Two)

 I wasn’t in this room at the moment Brian died.  But still I was with him at the moment of his death.   I was attending the performance of Swan Lake by the Russian ballet. It was my first outing without Brian or the children in several years. I felt so guilty about going that I almost cancelled my plans. It was during the Dance of the Swans that Brian died.   Strange how I knew that.  As I raised myself up from the floor I felt the same peace I had experienced during that dance.  I had been transfixed during that dance. I have never experienced anything like it before or since.  It was as if the ballerinas were angels floating up to heaven. My thoughts now turned to the children.  I must tell them.  

Q: Have you had a similar experience where you sensed something was true or had happened before actually becoming aware of it?

Measure of Success?

A few of my son’s friends and acquaintances from college dropped by over the holidays – a couple of guys and a lone girl. They were in route to a concert. They stayed only a few minutes but I could see it in her eyes.   It gave rise to that sadly familiar feeling that I have been battling since I moved here four years ago.    My daughter moved here first. She and her husband were just starting out and they bought a house in a subdivision that is a great location physically but not highly regarded by the inhabitants of this city.   When I moved here to be near them I thought how silly to buy a house some 20 or 30 minutes away.  When two people are working and lead very busy lives 20 or 30 minutes can be the same as a couple of hours and result in fewer visits.  So I bought a house in the same subdivision as my daughter.  I am immensely happy with my choice until I let other peoples’ attitudes enter my world. “Where do you live”, I asked my son’s acquaintance, thinking she lived in another city.  She proceeded to tell me she lived in one of the most exclusive areas of this city.  She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her feelings of disdain for where we live.  Maybe I was imaging it but I don’t think so.  She was definitely uncomfortable and maybe a bit contemptuous of where we live.  And I am sad to say so am I sometimes.

I so don’t want to measure success by how much money I earn, where I live, the vacations I take, how busy I am, how much I accomplish in any given day, the clothes I wear and on and on.  I battle those demons quite well for certain periods of time.  But inexorably I get drawn back to that material measure of success.   I am so disappointed in myself when I feel embarrassed by where I live and the choices I have made.   I worry that my son notices both his friend’s and my attitudes.

You see,  I strive to measure my success(if it needs measuring at all) by the quality of my relationships and connections to my family, friends and the community, by the time I spend doing for others and by my conduct that I hope reflects my spiritual beliefs.   Why is that so difficult to do?  The obvious answer is that we live in a materialistic world where you are valued and judged by the money you earn, the size of your bank account, your network of business connections, where you live, the car you drive and on and on.  A definitive measuring stick is already in place vis a vis these icons of success.  In contrast, the “successes” I strive for are rather intangible, difficult to measure and certainly are not highly valued or regarded in the world we inhabit. 

My four children and I moved to this city together some four years ago. We live in the same neighborhood.  We see each other at least weekly but usually much more often.  I passed up several lucrative job opportunities to pursue what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live.  When I tell acquaintances all or some of this they look at me askance.   My sense is that they think I am strange or weird.  I definitely feel like an outsider in mainstream America.

I am disappointed in myself when I allow this young girl’s looks of derision to take me down the path of regret for the choices I have made and the life I lead.  I chastised myself for a time for not being more mainstream. Then I revisited the huge positives in my life and the regrets were dispelled.

I am waiting for and working toward the day when I am totally comfortable with the way I measure success.  I am making progress. This time I was able to excoriate the feeling of failure much more quickly than in the past.   It would be great if the world would set a different standard of success but, sadly, I am not waiting for that to happen.   I seem to be out of step with the world a good bit and that can be a lonely feeling.   Still I will continue on with my chosen life path recognizing that one of my faults is that I look too much for validation from others. I’m working on that too!


Q: How do you measure success?  Does your life really reflect what you value and how you measure success?

Holidays

I will be taking the next few weeks off and will be back at it in 2012.  I hope during this time you will look over some of the "old posts" you have not yet had an opportunity to read. Happy Holidays to all of you. Lillian Hunter

Gift Receiving?

My friend was sick with the flu and a back injury.  We typically walk our dogs together on Fridays and she had been unable to do that for more than a month.  I tried to send her some flowers but that darn internet made it impossible to find a local florist.  So I stopped by a local market that has wonderful flowers.  I had an arrangement prepared and I delivered it myself.  She wasn’t home but her husband was.  I dropped off the flowers with him and left as he was also sick.   Then it happened.  Dead silence.  Stupid things were going through my head like maybe she didn’t notice them or maybe her husband forgot to tell her they were from me. 

It amazes me in this day and age of easy and instant communication how we fail or refuse to communicate.  I never received a text, email or phone call from my friend acknowledging the flowers and/or thanking me for them.  I happened to run into her a few weeks later and she, looking a bit chagrined, told me she hadn’t texted me (no reason why) but she thanked me for the flowers.  It seemed almost like an afterthought.  If I hadn’t run into her would she have ever said, “thank you”. 

Well you might be saying that the giver should not expect anything in return as a true gift is given freely and without expectation.    I agree but I don’t think that extends to a simple thank you.

My feelings were hurt and I wondered as to her character or lack thereof.  For me there is no substitute for an immediate and heartfelt,”thank you".  That may be the best gift of all because it says I acknowledge you and I appreciate you and all you do for me.   The words are so simple but the meaning is so powerful.   .”  So in these days when we are frantically preparing to give gifts to our family and friends, let’s not forget to say, “thank you”   when we receive something.   It means so much. It strengthens our relationships while its absence weakens them.

Grief

I ran into the room half expecting that it wasn’t true.  The room was exactly as I had left it an hour or so earlier.  Brian was resting peacefully on the bed.  I had known for three years this day would come.  It was inevitable.   I ran up to him and put my hand on his arm.   I let out a low, muffled cry.   His arm felt like a stone on a cold winters’ night.  I felt my body shudder.  I remember being amazed that life could depart so quickly.     I couldn’t move.  I stood staring at him. It felt as if the life had gone out of both of us in that room.  I don’t know how long I stood there motionless.   I fell to my knees.  I heard this horrible loud sound.  It sounded like a wailing from some primitive creature in pain.  I looked around the room.  I was alone.  It was coming from me!   Life had returned to me with explosive force.     I wailed rocking back and forth on my knees.  

Q:  Have you experienced grief , over an event in your life, that literally knocks you to the ground?  For me these events tend to surface around the holidays.  How about you?  I find that acknowledging these feelings helps me move past them. What works for you?

Loneliness (Part Four)

An envelope arrived in the mail the other day – just before I left on my business trip.  It had a return address indicating it was mailed from my hometown.   I anxiously ripped it open.  Funny but I still get excited regarding news about my hometown even though I haven’t lived there in 30 years.   I guess for my generation that connection runs deep.  I am sad and relieved that my children will never have that connection.    I opened it to find an obituary.  On top of the obituary was a handwritten note. It was from a friend of my parents.  She was a neighbor of ours and had been their friend since I was about five years old.   My siblings and I had grown up with her three sons.   I always think of her with such fondness.  Just seeing the note from her brings back good memories of spending time with her family.

 “Thought you might be interested in this.  I know you babysat for her for many years,” she said in the note.    I knew from my Mother that my friend had been battling cancer for a number of years.  It had been in remission for a quite a while but apparently it had recently returned with a vengeance.   She was only 61 years old.   We had a deep connection when I was in high school.  After I moved away, I would visit her when I came home to visit my parents.  She always seemed glad to see me.  But our visits had definitely tapered off over the years.   I would contact her but she rarely had the time to see me.    I was hurt that she didn’t want to get together.  She had been someone I could confide in as a teenager and young adult.  We seemed to understand each other even though we were from totally different worlds. Those talks helped me escape the provincial attitudes of the city in which I grew up.   

Why didn’t we maintain that connection?  I wanted to stay connected.  Do friendships have limited life spans?   Do I just care more about other people than they care about me?  Do I value friendships more than other people do?  Am I wrong or weird for feeling that way?  Am I the only one who feels so intensely lonely in 21^st century America?  These aren’t new feelings for me.  I have felt lonely and alienated since I was a child.

I often wonder if our ability to connect is damaged early on in our life whether we can ever completely heal from that injury.  I was driven by fear to seek and also to run away from relationships.   Fear has been my constant companion since childhood.  Anxiety may be a more accurate term but for me the feeling is definitely one of fear.  When I was young I would sabotage close friendships when I revealed too much of myself to the other person.  Was I was afraid they would reject me so I rushed to do it first?  

Q:  How would you rate your ability to connect - form deep and lasting connections- to "friends."  If you want deeper connections what do you think is interfering with your ability to do that?