Admittedly, I am more of a glass half-empty person that I am a half-full. I think most people err on one side or the other. If you’ve ever been to one of my lectures, you know my philosophy is that the key to healthy living is to balance both truths.
I have a few half-full folks in my life. They enjoy my blogs and Facebook quotes that are more upbeat and positive. The thing is, I’m a professional writer whose specialty is the topic of death/dying and grief/loss. In my practice, my specialty is relationship counseling, but you can’t talk about any of that without a healthy amount of focus on grief/loss. So my half-full friends, you will just have to be patient with my emphasis on being in touch with the pain in people’s’ lives. It happens to be what I am good at.
Sometimes there is so much happening around me, it’s hard to decide what to write about. (As opposed to those weeks when my mind is blank.) Last week I wrote about some great men. This week I”m going to focus on a couple of women that I know that have amazing strength.
My readers are already familiar with Summer. She was a rock for me while Tim was dying. She is a pillar in her church family and the community she lives in. It makes it hard to be her BFF sometimes because often we only get brief moments to chat every so often. That’s the life of someone who so many people depend upon. The year 2016 has been fraught with challenges for Summer that I can’t even begin to enumerate. I mean it’s stuff that tops the stress chart scales. Day after day after day. The last week she has been working with the hospice team to help usher her 93-year-old father-in-law to his final home. It brings memories of Tim flooding back. Listening to her exhaustion from the roller coaster of that daunting task is about all I can offer her. Her “dad-in-law” is one lucky man to end his life with the dignity that Summer and her family are gifting him with.
The second woman who has recently touched me is Ray. She is only 33-years-old, but I think her soul is much older and wiser. She is one of my students. We still chuckle when we talk about how we first met. She was being a bit overly assertive and feisty along with some of her peers. Our first class together started with my own assertion of myself as the graduate college professor- i.e. I was the one who called the shots, not the students. We laugh because we all have grown to deeply respect each other (and very quickly!) that it’s hard to imagine we had a rocky start.
Ray is a cancer survivor. I don’t know what the details are, but I know that she walked into my classroom already having learned so much about life, that some will never accomplish at twice her age. Ray was just told the cancer is back. Yep, cancer is such a beast. An unfair, vicious monster. This time, it is in her spine. It requires surgery, affording her a whopping 50-50 shot at walking again. Oh, by the way, Ray, did we mention we also discovered that you have MS?
We decided that we couldn’t possibly have our last class as scheduled, because it is the same day as Ray’s surgery. It just wouldn’t feel right. And it isn’t exactly appropriate for us to have class in the hospital. We all adore her, but I’m sure her family would like to take up the space around her. We are having our last get together at my house tomorrow night around a campfire. They are all of age so I told them they could bring their beverage of choice. And we are all praying Ray is feeling up to attending.
My first cohort of students I had for one semester. I still keep in touch with one student on occasion, and another student I talk to regularly, even after her move to North Carolina. This group of students I’ve had for an entire year. I feel the weight of grief and loss already. I try to give them my heart and soul and they fill me up with their appreciation. I’m sure we will stay in touch, but let’s face it. Things are never quite the same.
But I’m never away from the thought that the weight I carry from knowing I will miss the amazing women I have grown to admire over the last year, is nothing compared to the weight Ray carries. She is a rock star in every sense of the word. She has acquired strength and experience that a woman her age should never have to have earned the right to own.
My hat is off to you, Ray. And to Summer. And to countless others of the women I know who are towers of strength. When my life feels overwhelming, part of what brings me back is knowing some of you carry much greater burdens than I, and with such grace and love and power and inspiration. Know you are loved!