Off

It’s hard to focus on the day when life throws a curve, and things look off. You stumble when you’re not sure of what’s next. If you’re lucky, you have someone to share your story. And if you’re very lucky, they can help you get back on your path. They ground you and help you get through the day, the week, the year, your entire time together. That’s truly a blessing.

I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster the past couple weeks. I’ve celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday with my son, David, and his family. I always love sharing time with my kids and their crew. They are at different places in their lives, but they have similar goals and love one another.

I booked the trip a few months ago and set aside a couple of days so I could visit my 107-year-old friend, Ed. By the time you read this, I’ll have hooked up with him and our poker group. We will have celebrated a man we all love.

Two weeks ago, I altered my plans so I could arrive earlier to attend the funeral of my longest running friend, Mitch. I wrote blogs about Ed and Mitch. I got emotional when I wrote them. Tears welled in my eyes, but they stuck in my head as I fought their release.

I wrote the following shortly after Ruth died twenty-six months ago.

The first time I saw my father cry was December of 1955. Our family had been out Christmas shopping and visiting Santa Claus. We’d just walked in the door when Dad headed to the hallway. I didn’t hear the phone ring, but Dad came back through the living room after a short phone conversation and said, “Pa died today.” He walked out to the front porch to be alone, and I saw him wipe his eyes.

A few days later, I saw Dad cry again. We were gathered in the funeral home, and he walked into the single stall restroom tucked under a set of stairs. He wanted to be alone. I saw him reach for his handkerchief and wipe his eyes as he closed the door behind him. I thought to myself, “he doesn’t want anyone to see.” I was eight years old, had cried plenty of times myself, but this was the first time I saw someone cry because they were sad. It’s a different kind of cry. It starts in your soul and eases its way out.

The holiday season is sometimes difficult when you’ve lost someone you love. That’s particularly true if you shared that season. You reflect upon your loss and not all of your thoughts are happy. Tears are easy to come by. They pop up for no apparent reason. So far, I’ve avoided mine, but I’m sure they’ll creep back out.

Over the long haul, if you’ve done your best to live a good life, to see the glass as half full rather than half empty, things will correct themselves. You need to have a positive perspective to see things as they truly are.