Wedding Vows, Toasts and Celebrations

Holy moly, Kim and I are tying the knot next week! In case I lose my notes, I have everything posted here 🙂

Thanks for the introduction, DJ Tim!

And yes, it was wonderful, after nearly 10 years, to finally hear us introduced as Mr. and Mrs.! (Kiss my bride)

But let’s be honest here too – even Kim and I had some doubt we would get here. And I bet there are a few of you out there who showed up today just to see if we’d actually do this! Well, we did! (Kiss my bride)

Full disclosure – Kim’s running shoes under the table…

Going to let Kim head back to the table for a bit to get off that foot – Jake and T, if you see her trying to get away – well, it’s too late now!

So thanks everyone for coming out today to celebrate with us. I want to set some expectations, tho – everyone who knows me knows I am usually long-winded – and today will certainly be no exception.

So – if you don’t have a drink, you might want to get one; if your drink is getting low, you might want to top it off, and if you really know us you might want to get a second. We have a lot of folks we want to recognize and thank, so settle in and bear with me.

We are going to start with our wonderful officiants.

To my good friend and guru-ette Deb, and Kim’s good friend and minister Sandra – thank you guys so much for lending your spiritual guidance and making this official, and for tying our souls together as well as our hearts. Here’s to you, Deb and Sandra!

So this isn’t our first wedding, and who knows if it will be our last – we certainly know that life can change fast. 10 years ago, a day like this would have never seemed possible, or even wanted. But God had other plans. As Gibran said in our reading – “when love beckons, you follow”

If you look up at the bridal table, you’ll notice the two empty chairs. Of course they are for our first spouses, Debbie and John. We wouldn’t be the people we are today without them, and of course they live on in our four children, also at the bridal table. We want to recognize them today, too.

We didn’t have anyone walk us down the aisle or give us away – we’re too old, right? – but we’d like to have one last dance with our spouses, to ask their blessing as Kim and I move forward together in marriage with them both still in our hearts…

If you are so inclined, please feel free to join us…

“I’m Right Here My Love” – Scott Miller and Patty Griffin

Thanks everyone, I think Deb and John would have liked that.

We’re going to give Kim a few minutes here…

Most of you know the story of how Kim and I met, so I’m not going to repeat it here. But I do want you all to keep that in mind as we go back again to the reading ”On Love” from Gibran.

Most weddings focus on the positive declarations of love as being patient and kind, and Gibran gets there too in his masterpiece – but Gibran tells the whole truth about love. Gibran starts by saying loves “ways are hard and steep”, and talks about love “threshing, sifting, grinding and kneading” us, even crucifying us – certainly not the image of love most of us carry into a wedding celebration! But this was certainly where Kim and I were when we met. And we were that way because we were both lucky enough to have loved, but now we also knew what “‘til death do us part” felt like.

But why does Love allow this? Again, Gibran has answers: “so that you are pliant, and ready to know the secrets of your own heart”. This is also where Kim and I were 10 years ago – broken and busted open to the universe – but maybe knowing our own hearts for the first time in our adult lives.

Certainly, neither of us would ever choose to go through that pain again, but in hindsight, there were gifts. An honest heart is a rarity. Two honest hearts together created a bond that we hope will last a lifetime.

And it felt like we were guided by our spouses, Debbie and John looking down on us from that hilltop in Plum Creek Cemetery. An angel came into my life – and today she became my wife. (try not to cry, and kiss my bride)

We found someone to cry ourselves to sleep with, late at night, after the kids were in bed and all the work and chores done, when the weight of that empty bed and the overwhelmingness of our current situation really hit home.

If we could have, we would have both just crawled into a cocoon and disappeared, for who knows how long.

Jason Isbell says it much better than I ever could. We often cabin danced in private to this song – but now I want to share it in public with my new wife. We’re not going to play the whole song, our official wedding song will come later, but I want just one verse of Jason’s song, to remind Kim and I of those days – because that is what make this day so much brighter…

So here’s to Kimberly Rose and her genuine soul, this person beautiful both inside and out, who today agreed to become my wife, to whom I promised to always cherish as a gift from Love itself…love you with all my heart and soul, hon!

“Cover Me Up” – Jason Isbell

So Kim and I recognized we had been given a very unexpected second chance, even if we couldn’t yet share it. Trust us, this was completely unexpected and something neither of us was looking for. Again I’ll quote Gibran – “And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

But again, looking back over 10 years now, it was impossible to understand how broken we both really were. And maybe we made some bad decisions, and certainly we weren’t the best versions of ourselves all the time, and we were certainly incapable of replacing a lost parent to our children.

So to Jake, Trevor, Claire, Emily – we want you to know we did the best we could. Please know we always considered your needs first, and we tried the best we could to provide for you and love you all as best we could, even if it was with our broken hearts.

But your hearts were all broken, too. You will all carry that empty chair with you throughout your life, just like I do, even to this day – my dad was not here for either of my weddings. There will always be a hole in your heart, which you will have to learn to grow around. You guys were all cheated out of a normal family, out of a carefree childhood, and you’ll have to come to your own terms with why. Fall back on Gibran…

Maybe Kim and I didn’t provide the best relationship role models at first, but we are still trying, we are still learning, and we are still growing, even in our early 50’s… Ok mid 50s. Alright, approaching 60…

But we will be gone soon, too, and you guys will have to navigate this world on your own someday. Remember how much of your mom and your dad are encoded in your genes, the good, the bad, and the ugly, whether you like it or not. This is a large part of what weaves the tapestry of who you are, of what you will become. “Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?” That’s for you all to decide. Keep the parts that fit, work on the ones that need it or were truncated by tragedy, and always have each other’s back. And remember your shared experiences as brothers and sisters growing up; they will always be your biggest ally. But we know you all already know this.

And with that, I would like to raise our collective glasses to toast our children, Claire, Trevor, Emily and  Jake, for bearing with us, and for today, bearing witness that yes, love can survive tragedy, that love can grow even from destruction, that love can truly conquer all.

“In The Blood” – John Mayer

Finally, a big special thank you here to the people that have always supported Kim and I, especially in the early stages, when we felt we had to hide for a bit, or when we needed it the most – Susan and Tom, for letting us cry with you in your basement; to Rick and Judy, for running a little slower maybe so that I could keep up with you guys and Kim; to Kim’s mom brothers, and to my mom and my sisters Annie and Sarah, who never wavered in their acceptance of Kim and the girls, right from the start; and that goes to our wonderful in-law families, too, the Wehrle’s and Brunson’s, thanks so much for welcoming us all; and to Ken for all those cathartic talks in your driveway; and of course to everyone who gave of their time and talents to get set up for this event. Thank you all, we love you you, and we wouldn’t be here without you!

Alright, last toast, I promise; I realize I am the only thing standing between us and dinner!

This last toast is to anyone who is in a long-term relationship.

Relationships are hard; probably the hardest thing we do as humans. Everyone in this room who is in a relationship knows that. Kim and I certainly know that, and we have angels guiding us! There will be times when you need help. That help can come from counselors and therapists, or from books or blogs, but mostly, it will come from family and friends.

And so I want to appeal to all the folks here today who are in these relationships, to share your knowledge and support and your wisdom with all of us. It’s my hope that you’ll all be there for Kim and I, to remind us of our vows and promises made today, and the happiness of this occasion, especially on those future days that maybe won’t be so happy.

And to everyone who supports us now – that’s all of you folks who took the time to come celebrate with us today! It means so much to us – we love you all!

Let me end now with one final quote, this one not from Gibran.

In the movie “Shall We Dance”, the main character asks, “why is it, do you think, that {people} get married?” I think Susan Sarandon’s character answers it perfectly – “Because we need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet.. I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things… all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed, because I will be your witness’.”

So to everyone here who bears witness to the everyday of your partner, as Kim and I both promised today too; let’s all raise our glasses, to the mundane and the boring, to the mistakes we all make, and certainly to life’s big events, like a wedding celebration –  Here’s to us!!!

“Here’s To Us” – Halestorm
 

“Shall We Dance” marriage quote

Wedding Vows

Officiant: Kimberly and Joe – God has given you a second chance at love; what God has given, again – well, let’s try your best to not mess it up, ok?
Kimberly and Joe, what is it that you ask?
Joe: In the presence of God and family and friends, I ask you, Kimberly Rose, to be my wife.
Kim: In the presence of God and family and friends, I ask you, Joseph Walko, to be my husband.
Officiant: What is it that you give?
Joe: I give to you my witness, that we shall no longer walk alone.
I give to you of my heart and body, that we two might be one.
And I give you of my spirit, until our life shall be done.
Kim: I give to you my witness, that we shall no longer walk alone.
I give to you of my heart and body, that we two might be one.
And I give you of my spirit, until our life shall be done.
Officiant: What is it that you promise?
Joe: I promise to turn towards you first, and to cherish you as a true gift from God and Love itself.
Kim: I promise to turn towards you first, and to cherish you as a true gift from God and Love itself.
Officiant: With God’s guidance, and with the assistance of those gathered here, may you travel forward together, through life’s ups and downs, as married partners.
Joseph Walko, do you accept this invitation to be husband and wife?
Joe: I do
Officiant: Kimberly Rose, do you accept this invitation to be husband and wife?
Kim: I do
Officiant: I now pronounce you man and wife! You may now kiss the bride!!!

 

Thoughts on Love

by Kahlil Gibran

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh,
but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

 
I’m Right Here My Love
Scott Miller and The Commonwealth, featuring Patty Griffin

Can you hear me crying?
I’m right here, my love
The unknown is frightening
I’m right here, my love
Worlds far apart can’t separate us
And I can hear you crying
I’m right here, my love

Do you recall my kiss?
I’m right here, my love
I wish life was endless
I’m right here, my love
But living costs something and pay it we must
I recall your kiss
I’m right here, my love

Can you feel me tremble?
I’m right here, my love
Does it feel like you remember?

I’m right here, my love
The future’s assured in the pulse of our blood
I can feel you tremble
I’m right here, my love

Can you sit closer?
I’m right here, my love
And watch me pass over?
I’m right here, my love
We did not give in and we did not give up
I’ll watch you cross over
I’m right here, my love

Can you hear me crying?
I’m right here, my love
Thunder and lightning
I’m right here, my love
Worlds far apart can’t separate us
And I can hear you crying

I’m right here, my love
 
Cover Me Up
Jason Isbell

A heart on the run
Keeps a hand on gun
You can’t trust anyone

I was so sure
What I needed was more
Tried to shoot out the sun

The days when we raged
We flew off the page
Such damage was done

But I made it through
‘Cause somebody knew
I was meant for someone

So girl leave your boots by the bed
We ain’t leavin’ this room
‘Til someone need medical help
Or the magnolias bloom
It’s cold in this house
And I ain’t going out
To chop wood
So cover me up
And know you’re enough
To use me for good
 
In the Blood
John Mayer

How much of my mother
has my mother left in me?
How much of my love
will be insane to some degree?
And what about this feeling
that I’m never good enough?
Will it wash out in the water,
or is it always in the blood?

How much of my father
am I destined to become?
Will I dim the lights inside me
just to satisfy someone?
Will I let this woman kill me,
or do away with jealous love?
Will it wash out in the water,
or is it always in the blood?

I can feel love the I want, I can feel the love I need
But it’s never gonna come the way I am
Could I change it if I wanted, can I rise above the flood?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

How much like my brothers,
do my brothers wanna be?
Does a broken home become
another broken family?
Or will we be there for each other,
like nobody ever could?
Will it wash out in the water,
or is it always in the blood?

I can feel love the I want, I can feel the love I need
But it’s never gonna come the way I am
Could I change it if I wanted, could I rise above the flood?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

If We Were Vampires

This post was originally written in December, 2017, on my Evening’s Light blog. I am reposting it here in anticipation of our upcoming nuptials, on August 13, 2022. Once again we have gotten distracted and taken the long way home on our wedding, it is way overdue. But this post is still appropriate…

“If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke
Laugh at all the lovers and their plans
I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand
Maybe time running out is a gift
I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind

It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever
Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone
Maybe we’ll get forty years together
But one day I’ll be gone
Or one day you’ll be gone”

  – Jason Isbell, “If We Were Vampires”

I love this new song from Jason Isbell. It may be the best “marriage” song ever written (note I didn’t say love song; there is a difference.) It certainly will be played and danced to at our wedding, whenever that may be. And I am sure it will still bring a tear to our eyes, taking us back to the first time we felt it.

Isbell sings of an eternal truth; but it’s one we don’t like to think about, especially at weddings, which are usually about beginnings. But a marriage is ultimately a commitment to an end. Because despite the fairy tale, no one, and no marriage, lasts forever…

Here in these simple, beautiful lyrics, Jason lays down the marriage gauntlet – to him and his wife, to Kim and I, to anyone who has the audacity to want to get married. “Maybe time running out is a gift. I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift.”

I’m not sure everyone understands that time running out is a gift. Kim and I certainly know this, intimately. We know there will be an end.

And we also know something that Jason and his wife Amanda (who sings with him on this song) don’t – we know exactly what it’s like to bury a spouse, to truly understand what “til death do us part” means. It’s not easy, Jason. You won’t be singing about it. In fact, it will rip your heart out and inflict a pain you can’t even imagine.

But Kim and I accepted the fact that we will probably have to go through this again, that one of us will probably “have to spend some days alone.” That was the first decision we had to make in our relationship. From the start, we agreed to be ok with an end, however it might be. We could not have chosen to love fully again if we didn’t choose this. Those are the inalienable conditions of choosing to love again, as anyone who has lived through death or divorce knows.

That doesn’t mean that we don’t both fully agree with Isbell’s most honest line in the song, “and hope it isn’t me who’s left behind.” It’s gonna suck, terribly, for whomever has to bury the other, for whomever has to grind out their own end, alone. We both reserve the right to regret our decision to love again at that time, if only because we already know the immense, irrecoverable hurt that will entail.

But to justify that inevitable pain, to make it more bearable – we will have to work a little bit now.

“I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift.” That’s it, that’s the most important line in this song, the key, the timely reminder that I need, that Kim and I need, that we all need to hear. It’s the hammer that brings these lyrics home, that breaks through the daily grind to shatter our comfortable illusions of what marriage really is, and reminds us of what is really important in a relationship.

And that is the beauty of this song. I sometimes get lost, and I lose sight of what is important. This song reminds me of how special it is to hold Kim’s hand, and what a gift  it is to just be around her, to share in her life, for as much time as we’re given.

Because you know what? We may not get forty years. In fact Kim and I probably won’t get 40 years together, we’re just too old already. And I’m not sure we would even want 40 years together if we don’t take time to care for and nurture the special gift we have been given.

So yes, Kim and I have moved into the work phase. We are not immune to the tediousness of work and career, of grocery shopping and saving for colleges, of kitchen repairs and trips to the dentist. But goddammit, we’ve recently done those things alone, too, and that really sucks. It’s so much better sharing everyday life with someone!

Last Saturday was spent on hands and knees, ripping out a kitchen filled with water and mold; it sucked. But I am lucky enough to have a partner, someone who helps when I need it, keeps me steady, and flashes that cute crooked little smile at just the right time to remind me that everything is ok. And late that night, when we were finally finished, sore and exhausted, our dirty fingers entwined, and I wrapped Kim in my arms. Aching muscles were soothed, and fears were vanquished when I found a hand that fits mine perfectly in the dark.

I am lucky enough to have found you, Kim – you make even ripping out a kitchen a romantic adventure! We are still connected, heart and soul, and our shared love will be the pinnacle of my human experiences, my greatest gift from this life. We probably will not have 40 years together, and we certainly know, to borrow another Jason Isbell line, that “no one dies with dignity.” But wow, I am so grateful to be traveling with you for now, for however long we choose, for however long life will have us.

So let’s get these kids off to college and this house back in shape, and let’s enjoy those things as they happen, together. And then let’s get busy sharing this song, and a dance, and the gift of our togetherness with family and friends, and create the best wedding ceremony we can. And then let’s build a marriage where we remember that we’re not vampires, that we won’t last forever, and that we are eternally lucky to have shared whatever time we have, hand in hand…

Love you with all my heart and soul, Kimberly Rose!

Cairns Trailer

Wow so getting this book to fruition has proven to be as meandering and as full of challenges as this blended journey, but it does seem like it will still happen, soon! I am setting up a new page on my author website for the book, and I’ve made a very rough first pass at the book trailer, you can click on the picture below to view it, or view the trailer here: https://joewalko.com/news/

I would love to enlist some professional video editing, but let me know what you think of the concept and if it stirs your interest. Thanks!

 

Cairns

Blogs are a great way to share insights, little snippets of wisdom, and the ups and downs of daily life. But sometimes the whole story needs a bigger platform.

So I’ve shifted focus over the last year or so to other things, mostly a full time finance job again, but also slowly working on my big long-term project, a full length book. It’s been a long haul, with two complete rewrites, countless edits and writer’s group feedbacks, times of hopelessness and disappointments, and just enough middle of the night creative inspirations and subtle encouragements to keep this project going.

And now it look like it will come to life as a professionally published book this summer!

Above is the tentative cover, and below is the back, stay tuned!

The Grand Gestures

Be honest, brutally honest. That is what’s going to maintain relationships. – Lauryn Hill

So the only thing Kim and I have ever promised each other is to be honest. Full honesty has been, and will continue to be, our only vow, even after we take our vows (which we are actively moving towards, with our newly announced engagement). And yes, it was a spectacular engagement (both of them, as I’ll soon tell), just as awesome in real life as it was on the video.

But like most of life, especially in the digital age, that wasn’t the whole story. Truth be told, it wasn’t all wine and roses. Another truth be told – full honesty ain’t easy. But Ms. Hill is right, it’s absolutely necessary to maintain relationships.

And the truth is, we (well, ok, me) made a big production of our engagement. Because I wanted to, because I want the whole world to know how wonderful Kim is, and how special we are, and how glad we are to have found each other, and how lucky we have been to share these last 5 years together. And the reality is, I’m not sure how well I would have survived – even if I would have survived – these last five years without Kim.

These are the truths that form the bedrock of our relationship. And that alone is worth celebrating. We may or may not last forever, but dammit, we’ve had a wonderful past five years’ that we’ve mostly kept to ourselves, and we want the world to know. We are not promising forever with our engagement, because we are old and wise, and understand how quickly life changes. But we certainly want to celebrate what we’ve already shared.

So I concocted a plan, a very elaborate plan, a plan that – just like us, and fitting with our story – seemed to fall out of the sky and perfectly into place. First the perfect place and time to make all these perfect plans happen was arranged. I knew what I wanted to do, and where. Then the perfect ring fell out of the sky and perfectly into place, too. All we needed to do was follow through.

We traveled to Zion, a place of magic and vast importance to me, and a centerpiece of our story. We set up camp with the boys, and on a bright and beautiful morning, we went down to the Virgin River, to the exact spot of a vow I made years before, and to the exact same spot where the Earth shifted for Kim and I a couple of years ago. And I shared our story, in detail, with the boys, right there by the river, under the mountains and bluebirds and bright sunshine. And the cottonwood buds morphed yet again, from ordinary bud to sparkles in my bride-to-be’s eyes, to today, flowers on the end of the branches.

And the boys got it, I think – what we are trying to show them, about love and relationships, and the meaning of life (it’s not all about school and college and work, relationships are what make life special!) This is why it was important for them to be here. They shared in our tears when my voice cracked, when I couldn’t hold back the tears, remembering all that had happened here at this spot, and all that Kim and I have been through since that time. I took a knee right there in the sand, under the Watchman and the blooming cottonwoods and the bright blue sky, next to the Virgin river in a place called Zion. Our real engagement had to happen here, there was no other place it could happen. Oh, and she said yes, too.

It wasn’t all seriousness, either, there was lots of laughter and happiness. Adam Sandler helped me serenade Kim after she accepted, with a rousing rendition of “I Wanna Grow Old With You” from The Wedding Singer. The boys brought Kim flowers, I brought her the ring, and we danced to our cabin dance song (“Cowboy Take Me Away”) and group hugged right there on the banks of the river in “our” park. That was the real proposal, the one we didn’t share publicly, and the one that has the most meaning for us. And that part was perfect.

It was after this proposal that we hopped on the bus to Angel’s Landing. Angel’s Landing is another special place in Zion to me, and to Kim and I as a couple, too. It’s an awesome hiking adventure, and ends with some really good views. It’s too special and perfect a place not to have a proposal there, too, though Kim didn’t know this. So we hoofed it up the 1,400 vertical feet, pulling ourselves up by chains, to the place we were led here years ago by our spouses – a place where angels land.

And the boys helped me set up again, next to “our” cairns on the edge of the cliff, this time overlooking the spectacular Zion canyon as a peregrine falcon wheeled about and ushered in the unexpected witnesses. The boys set up the music, this time “Anniversary Song” by the Cowboy Junkies, and my Bob Dylan placards announced to the whole world our story and how special Kim is to me. Hey, she even said yes again, this time to cheers and applause, and one young couples’ comment that “that was a 12 out of 10!” So I got me an angel on Angel’s Landing! We even made it back down and into town in time to celebrate with a special engagement dinner at The Bit and Spur restaurant.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC38MguC8H498VlmvNkQ7SSA

It looked perfect on tv, and up to this point, it was. But like most things in this digital age – and like us, and most certainly like life in general – things can and do change on a dime. And rarely is anything perfect.

There was lots of stuff going on behind the scenes on this trip. With a big blended family of young adults and teens, it seems there is always something going on. But this one was a doozy. Literally three days before we were to depart for Zion, Kim got one of those late night, kick you in the gut phone calls, the kind that elicits an audible gasp and drops you to your knees. A sudden unexpected death in the family, even if it is your in-law family, is always a game changer. Hearts were broken and a lot of people’s lives came to a standstill.

Kim then had to decide how to react to this, and whether she could or should go with us on this trip. Of course I had put months’ worth of effort into it, and it was my boy’s last spring break vacation for us since Jake will be in college next year, so we were going. Kim didn’t know what exactly was up, but she knew something big was planned, and she had to make an impossible choice.

And that is what makes life so difficult, so not perfect. In a big blended family, there are always other things to consider. But Kim and I also know, more than most, that life is short, and you often times only get one shot at things; we have no idea how much time we have left together. And there is no way to please everybody, as we learned when we started dating after our spouses died. So in the end, after doing the best she could to make things right in the three days prior to the trip, Kim decided to go to Zion.

The day of my proposals was also the day of the funeral. Not planned, of course, but we had no way around this, as we had plans and reservations for the rest of the trip that couldn’t be rearranged. But when we got back to camp after a very long and emotional day, the stress from back home finally caught up to Kim. There was no excitement or congratulations from Kim’s daughter’s, and all the little shit of regular life cascaded over our grand day. Kim went to bed early; I was bummed, I had still more planned for us, a little private ceremony in “our” meadow under the full moon, to cement “us.” Oh well, maybe tomorrow will be better and we can do this tomorrow night. It was still a great day.

Well, the next day was another full day of adventure, up early and on horseback (a first for me and the boys!) in the desert, a hell of an adventure! But it was all day adventure, and it ran 2 hours long. We were all (especially me) tired and dirty and grumpy, and just wanted to get a shower and a warm meal. But we got stuck in traffic, and the anger backed up with the endless line of cars and wasted time, and my fuse got shorter and shorter, until by the time we made it back to camp, Kim and I were shouting at each other and heading in different directions.

I wish we would have done things differently that night; I am sure Kim does, too. But we let the immediate emotions of the moment take off, compounded by the stress swirling around the events back home, and the lack of sleep and the long hard day. In the end we spent the night fighting, in front of the boys (dragging them in, too, shame on us), while the full moon set over an empty meadow. Opportunity lost…

We packed up and left Zion the next morning, in a huff, backs to each other instead of embracing our new life as a soon-to-be married couple. The hard feelings persisted, bad things were threatened, apologies not offered; the crisp clear air and specialness of this spectacular wilderness and “our” place was tainted. We left with heavy hearts and things left undone, things that were very important to me, things intended to cement the grand gestures we had just been through.

Because we need the grand gestures; they are important. We need our milestone ceremonies and celebrations. We need the spectacular, to get us through the ordinary. We need our special stories, repeated at family gatherings and amongst friends, and on anniversaries – because too much of life is drudgery and mundane. And Kim and I, we want to continue writing our special story – because we know how old we are. We know we’ve got some shit coming up, we know no one grows old with dignity, we know we will be tested.

We don’t know how many chapters we have left. But we do know it is our story that will get us through. It is our story that provides meaning.

Life is stressful; it’s full of unintended consequences, hurt feelings, things left undone, death and decay. Zion teaches us this; the wilderness has all of these things on display, right next to each other, full time. Kim and I know this, too; we’ve been through it. The boys maybe don’t know this.

Well at least now they know the truth about our relationship – that it is not perfect. But that is the truth about every relationship. I hope they can see that we are at least honest, and that’s more important than being perfect. I also hope they remember that we can be pretty spectacular, too, despite our flaws. We’ve enjoyed some really grand gestures. Not many couples get a second chance at love, and get to have not one, but two proposals in one day, in such grand fashion and in such a spectacular setting – but we did!

Of course, Kim and I will be just fine. Kim is really good at handling the day-to-day. She always puts little notes in my computer case when I am traveling, or in my lunchbox for work. It always makes me smile. I’m going to let Kim handle the little things; I’m better at the grand gestures. Both are important, so we make a good team. I hope that ring on her finger reminds her of that, and of the specialness of our story.

But there is one thing that still bothers, something I will have to come to grips with. In all my past trips to Zion, I (or Kim and I together) have done a private ceremony to close out the trip, a sort of ritual to fall back on, back home in “ordinary” life. As Feather taught me on my first retreat to Zion, we are allowed to make our own ceremonies; in fact, there is nothing more important we can do. And I had one planned, one that would draw upon these previous closings, and given us another “cabin dance” opportunity. It would have closed things out perfectly, under a perfect full moon (it’s always good to get the moon’s blessing 😊). But we pissed that chance away, in stubborn defiance to life’s distractions. Sigh, it haunts me…

So our engagement was not perfect. We are not perfect. Ha, pretty sure our marriage won’t be perfect either! We all want perfect, but it’s rarely what we get, and it’s not what’s most important anyway. What’s important is to be honest. And I think we still have that. And we have another reason to go back to Zion, too…

School Choice

“We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us.”
― Ken Levine

So two of the blended teenagers cleaned up nicely, found wonderful dates, donned their best duds, and attended the junior/senior prom at their new school last weekend.  Too expensive dresses and flowers, oversized limos, lots of friends and family, big smiles that seemed genuine, and too many pictures marked the event. The high heels and rented shoes that made walking a challenge were later discarded on the dance floor, while the certainly not functional must-wear dresses and tuxes the kids (and parents) worked weeks to afford were soon treated like sweatpants, but they returned with big smiles and lifetime memories, sleeping most of the next day. They even posed for a photo together for us, certainly not something they would choose do on their own!

The smiles on the two harried parents who ushered the kids off to the promenade and burgeoning independence and adulthood were genuine, too. Not necessarily of happiness, although that was certainly a large component of it. The biggest reason for our smiles, though, was relief.

The hardest part of parenting – by far – is decision-making. Parents have to tow the line between discipline and independence, allowing their children enough room to make mistakes, but not mistakes big enough to affect the rest of their lives. We have to choose between our dreams and desires and the needs and wants of our children, between their safety and strangulation from boredom. There are no formulas to follow, every child and situation is different every time, and the world changes so fast now that there often isn’t precedent and wisdom to fall back upon.

It is even harder to make the difficult decisions as a single parent. I found this out immediately, and in the hardest way possible, as my wife literally lay dying, and I had to decide whether my nine- and twelve-year old boys should be there with their mother or not through the hardest of all journeys. It was the rudest welcoming to single parenting imaginable, it struck abject terror into my heart, and left me trembling and questioning how I could ever do it.

Fast-forward a few years, and a strong beautiful angel who knew a few things about making hard decisions by herself (like deciding to start a life and family with a man just diagnosed with a brain tumor and given only a couple years to live) was divinely thrust into my life. I honestly don’t know where I, and this family of boys with me at the helm, would be if my wife and Kim’s husband hadn’t arranged for us to get together. I’m pretty sure it would not have been in the many good places we are today, though.

And so it is that the smiles of relief Kim and I share today are rooted in gratitude for the  miracle of our meeting and the wisdom to follow our hearts. For we certainly needed the lessons life had forced upon us soon. One of the first and hardest decisions we had to make was to blend these families (even knowing as we did so that 75% of blended families fail) – especially when that entailed moving three of the kids out of the only school district they had ever attended, right smack dab in the hardest school years to do so for the two who are now attending the prom.

Making decisions of this sort is truly a sort of torture, for while of course it affected us, it also changed incontrovertibly the course of our kids’ lives. What we wouldn’t have given for a crystal ball to peer into the future and see we were doing the right thing, and not fucking the kids up for the rest of their lives! And oh man, it certainly felt like we had made the worst decision ever when Emily curled up in ball, crying her guts out and begging her mom to turn the car around and “please let me go to my old school” that very first day. It’s true, we are always just one decision away from a totally different life.

But of course there is no way of knowing the outcome at the time major decisions have to be made. That is why it is so hard. That is why you have to know what your priorities are, and know what is real for you, and retreat to those places of firmness in your life, in you heart, when the tough decisions need made. It’s when making these decisions that we find out who we really are, and how strong we really are. “It does not take much strength to do things, but it requires a great deal of strength to decide what to do”, says Elbert Hubbard.

Kim did not turn around on her way to the new school with Emily that day, despite her heart breaking. She did pull off the road to ball her eyes out, though, after dropping Emily off and before continuing on to work. This parenting thing is hard, and sometimes the hardest part is being strong in front of the kids, to give them the courage and strength they will need, even when we want to turn around and run, too.

“It is our choices that show who we really are, far more than our abilities”, says Dumbledore to Harry Potter, says a mother to her daughter, says life to all of us. We get to decide how we will respond the loss of a parent, a spouse, to a broken family, to a new school, to growing up, to making the hard decisions a good life requires, even in the face of long odds.

So maybe we have all done some things right – for both of these dressed up high schoolers who are looking all grown up today, chose to make the most of their new school, their new opportunities, their new house and neighborhood, and new living arrangement (though we wish they would do a little more here 🙂 They both have grown and expanded the last two years, making a new volleyball team, taking new classes, making new friends, and learning new skills that have helped them to grow and mature and will certainly benefit them in the next phases of their lives. Both have expressed that yeah, maybe changing schools wasn’t so bad, maybe even some good things have come from it, maybe we are better people from having lived through it.

Kim and I certainly know they are. Growth comes only at the end of our comfort zones, as these kids now know a bit, too.

And so for Kim and I, our smiles today are not about how good they look, but for how proud we are of them for choosing to embrace the choices we foisted upon them, that they themselves would not have chosen, but for which we felt a few years ago was best for them. Certainly for two worried parents living with the results of making the tough decisions, getting this confirmation that yeah, maybe we did do the right thing – well, that is certainly reason to smile, and further reinforcement to continue trusting in our hearts. I hope the kids are seeing a bit of that, too…

I Am the Tortoise

“We are committed, my legs and I; there is no turning back. I shoulder the pack, resume the trek, the step-by-step progress into … an infinite regress. … I am the tortoise.” – Edward Abbey

So the second of the blended brood is getting ready to flee the nest and head off to college. What once seemed abstract and exciting (and even enviable, when our parental bounds seemed suffocating) is suddenly real, and the professions of going to school “as far away from here as possible” have morphed into going to the closest big city school, closer even than Kim’s workplace. Funny what happens when kid talk needs turned into action, and rhetoric into responsibility.

And suddenly there is a lot of thinking and talking and questioning, about majors and courses of study, and “what am I going to do the rest of my life”, because now it comes with the realization that childhood is over and the results of their decisions will determine their quality of life. Or maybe it is the even starker realization that mom and dad will soon be done stocking the refrigerator and paying for that next car. And here’s how we know the shit is really hitting the fan – they are even asking us for advice!

Of course I don’t have answers for them, and this is hard on both of us – the kids have always relied on their parents for answers when they came up short (or maybe they were just being lazy), and we have always provided them with solutions (even if they didn’t always like it.) I remember once when the fire alarm was falsely going off in the middle of the night and the fire trucks were on their way (again!), asking Emily how she would handle the situation if we weren’t around. She replied, irritated, that “I don’t have to think about that for another year because I’m not an adult.” Well, now you are, and in four months we won’t be taking care of midnight alarms or getting her up for that 8 a.m. class or bailing her out of budget emergencies. Welcome to the real world, ready or not.

But for the big questions they are asking – well, we (parents) truly cannot help them this time. We don’t know what is in their hearts. I’m not sure they know what is in their hearts, because I don’t think they have ever had to really look, with real stakes (the future quality of their lives and happiness) on the line. But they truly are the only ones that have the real answers they are seeking. And the answers are inside them; but they need to figure this out for themselves, not always an easy process. Now it gets real.

I can only pass on what I have learned, but my path will not be theirs, so my specific advice to them is very limited. But I don’t want them to hear what I did (and they most likely won’t listen anyway, I’ll get the same blank, disinterested stare I got doing the “boring” budget talk.) I want them to hear how I reacted to becoming an adult, what mistakes I made, what I would do differently if I could, and what I learned when asking the same questions they are asking now.

Hmm, I am sure there were many wise adults who tried to tell me what they learned, too, and I am sure I passed on the same blank stare I get now. Sigh, it is one of the most frustrating aspects of parenting. Teenagers think their parents are old and irrelevant, and that only they know everything. I’m sure I thought I knew everything at 18, too, but I know now that I most certainly didn’t.

A funny thing did happen over the next 32 years, though – I did learn a few things. Life taught it to me, whether I wanted to learn or not. Usually it was the hard way, and usually after not taking a wiser persons advice. Maybe that’s just the way it has to be; but now from a parent’s’ point of view, it is truly painful to watch your children make mistakes and do things the hard way.

But that’s not going to stop me from preaching, to the kids, and especially on my blog that no one reads anyway. And maybe on some level a little bit of this will seep in if I keep up the repetitiveness. Someday…

I’ve written extensively about the importance of following your cairns, your signs, your path, not the crowd, not the latest craze – and that will always hold true. This is often the hardest thing to learn for a high schooler, to whom the crowd holds mighty sway, especially in the digital age of likes and instagram and electronic followers. Trust me, kids, that will only lead you away from your higher self, the pursuit of which is also one of life’s more rewarding and nobler pursuits (but that is a whole post in and of itself, for a later time…)

Doing something because the crowd likes it will most often not be the best way. Sorry kids, but remember that conversation about being an adult now? Well now it’s time to be a leader, at least of yourself. A tough lesson to learn, to be sure, but one that needs to be understood for you to find your path. You’ll get there, especially as you put distance between your true self and high school. Find out who you truly are, and then trust in your true self. Again, that is another post, also.

But this post is about finding what is real; for you will need a place to stand when life tests you. Of course, you have your family, but we have our flaws and limitations, too, as you already know. Perhaps you have a faith that is solid; lean on it. But most likely, you haven’t found what is real for you, because you haven’t had to really look. But you probably already know that high school is not real, and finding what is not real is an important part of the process, too.

Finding what is real to you is a lifelong journey, and what is real to you is also different for everyone. That’s what makes it so difficult – it is a solo journey, no one can travel it for you. You will have to do the hard work and make the difficult decisions. Again, I can only pass on what I have learned, but these are the lessons that have stuck with me – because they are real. Life has tested me and I have tested myself in places that are real to me and on solo journeys.

But again, this is not about my lessons, it’s about how I learned them. I did not always follow my heart or my passions when I was making the same decisions you are making now, and I took a lot of detours and made a lot of wrong turns. And maybe I needed those wrong turns (maybe we all do) to break through my self-imposed limits and stubbornness. But I wish I would have looked a little earlier for what is real to me, before life forced me to find it.

It’s not that I’ve made some huge mistakes that I regret – it’s that I didn’t do things as I should have, honoring who I really am. I took the long way home, just learning lessons recently that I should have learned long ago, and that might have made my life a little easier, and less miserable at times. But the wisdom to learn from others advice is rare, as I am sure we will see with our children. And that’s ok, too, some of us are just plain stubborn. I suppose it is better to get there late than never, though.

I wish I would have followed my passion for the outdoors earlier. Nature, the natural world, so much a part of my childhood – it is so much more real than the human world, especially the workaday world of jobs and making a living, the fast paced “connectedness” of the electronic world, and the modern culture of convenience and comfort. Nature demonstrates true connectedness, every piece intimately connected to every other part if you look closely, life and death dwelling right beside each other. And she still operates on the same slow, patient, unfolding pace that so soothes my soul when the human world attempts to consume the real me with its insatiable demands for more – which is most certainly, to this old curmudgeon – not real. Yes I still root for the tortoise, even in this rabbit-paced world.

The kids will all find this out soon enough – life has a way of doing that. Soon, the hollowness of electronic “relationships” and the shallowness of comfort and convenience will be revealed by the timeless demands of making a living, of careers, of marriage and parenthood, of the decline of our own earthly bodies. Life is hard, it is full of death and hardships, and rebirths and resurrections, if you can muster the gumption. If you have found something real to stand on.

I have found one of my reals, outside, as I have written about extensively. It is a bit sad to me that my teens don’t share in my enthusiasm for the outdoors, of hiking and biking and backpacking, despite my exposing them to these activities from the time they were little (indeed, little Trevor was only 2 months old when we took him on his first three-day backpacking trip.) Outside is where my feet find solid ground, where my soul blossoms in the presence of the intricate beauty of the landscape, in a place that feels like home, where I can let go of my human roles and responsibilities and just be the real ME.

But my kids are not unique. Many an author has argued about the death of nature, the death of real risk and adventure (replaced now by theme park thrills and virtual reality) and the death of backpacking, especially for Gen Xers. Christopher Ketcham does an especially eloquently job of it in “The Death of Backpacking.” And yes, I agree one hundred percent with his points, and he is so spot on on many levels. The outdoors can’t compete with the instant gratification and constant connectedness of the electronic and social media, it’s too slow and not flashy enough. Plus, it’s too much work for this next coddled generation, who have been spoon fed “success” as a right and whom think the outdoors is just the place between the front door and the car. Yes we are teaching the next generation that convenience and comfort is worth more than their souls, and that is a disservice.

These kids don’t understand – it’s not the happiness that’s most important, it’s the pursuit of it. That’s what gives life real meaning, the long, hard journey of pursuing and bringing to bloom the unique gifts that are only inside of each of us. So far, they’ve gotten everything they’ve ever wanted all their lives, handed to them, without really working hard and struggling for it. It’s usually only a few days before they become bored of it, when the lasting happiness they thought would come with it quickly fades. So they move on to the next prized possession –  but the results are the same. Kids, you can continue this pattern your whole life – certainly our out of control consumer society encourages this. You can then choose to mask your continued disappointments with whatever diversion and drug makes you feel “good”, lord knows we humans have perfected the art of avoidance. Or you can look inside, do the hard work – and find what is real.

Shame on us parents, myself included, for spoiling our kids. We have given them one more huge roadblock in the way of finding their own path. But alas, parents are human too, and it’s hard to refrain from giving our kids everything when we see everyone else doing it.

Have we taught them to find the drive and the passion in themselves to undertake something hard, and the perseverance to follow through the inevitable storms, even when the trail is all uphill and every muscle aches and the summit seems forever out of reach? Have we taught them to work through the discomforts of the journey, the bugs and dead ends and wrong turns and backtracking, and carry on their path? Have we taught them to take the right path for them, to strive for the bigger goal, the more nobler reward, the highest version of themselves, instead of going easier and giving in to the highest bidder? Have we shown them the true satisfaction and lasting happiness of achieving a goal that only you can see, that others said was not worth it, but which makes your soul bloom? I don’t know…

But here is one thing I do know – I don’t need to teach them all of those things. Because life will shake them out of their comfort, out of their ruts, out of their unconsciousness; it will shake them to their core soon enough. Then they will look around in earnest for something real. And when they do, whatever is real to them will be there, if they know where to look.

And yes, the rocks and the big sky and the trees and the glaciers will still be there for them, too, if that’s what speaks to them (well, ok, the glaciers may not be there). And hopefully, so too will be the voice of their old man, even if it is only an old dusty whisper from long ago, but still preaching about looking inside to find their path, to find what is real, to strive for the highest version of themselves. Maybe then they will remember some of what I am trying to say. Hmm, maybe then they might even strap on dad’s old pack…

 

In the meantime, though – the temporary death of backpacking means no one is out there in the backcountry now; woo-who, let’s get out there and enjoy something real, God’s big empty playground!!!

I am still the tortoise, too…

Surviving Normal

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.” – Vincent van Gogh

Stress specialists tell us we are actually pretty good at surviving the big challenges – death and divorce, sudden loss of a job, even major personal injuries and health problems – mostly because we usually have lots of help with these things. Yes, they tax us beyond what we think we can handle at the time, cause us to shed tears and endure more pain and discomfort than we thought we could bear – but they also force us to grow and expand, which often times leads us to new and sometimes better places, and higher versions of ourselves. How many times have we heard survivors of horrible ordeals say, after they had recovered, they wouldn’t trade the experience they endured if given the choice, because of who they grew into and what they learned?

But we humans don’t like change. Therefore, it is often the ever-changing nature of life itself that forces us to change and grow, by forcing us to march through life’s big events. When faced with the choice to change or curl up and die, most of us finally choose change, and we are usually happy about the place where the changes lead us, once we get through the tears and tough times.

Certainly that is the place where I am arriving at, finally. The amount of wrenching changes to my base life I have endured the last five years finally seems to be settling down into a new normal. Compared to five years ago, I now have a new life partner, a new address and new house, a new and much more dynamic living situation which includes a new family (immediate and extended), a new career, and a whole new (and much more humbling) financial situation. Wow, I could write a book about this journey! It’s been a lot to endure, but I have survived, and I am thriving once again, and I carry with me now the lessons I was meant to learn, which I would not now give up.

And so we (this blended family) are settling into “normal” again. God, that is what I so wanted five years ago, symbolized by my intense longing for just a simple family meal after my wife died. Well, we have that now. (Ok, only sometimes – trying to wrangle four teenagers to agree on or do anything, even something as simple as dinner, is never easy or normal!)

So I have not been blogging as much on this site, because, let’s face it, normal life is boring. Who wants to continually read about the challenges we all face raising teenagers? Like how a few weekends ago we actually got three of the kids outside and away from their phones and screens, and got them cross-country skiing, a new experience for them and us, and we actually ALL had a good time! It would have been a perfect story too, had it ended with us all curled up on the couches watching a movie as planned – except that one teenager ended up spending the night in the hospital with breathing difficulties (it turned out to be a minor ailment which poses no immediate threat, but which we will keep warily in the back of our minds), and another teenager abruptly leaving the movie when friends beckoned, only to come home a few hours later in a mildly altered state that is not legal at his age.

Of course these events abruptly ended the already interrupted movie and destroyed what Kim and I hoped would be a nice, “normal” night. In fact, Kim and I didn’t even get the chance to revel in our minor skiing victory that day – she ended up sleeping in a chair at UPMC East, while I was at home disciplining a wayward teen deep into the night. So much for plans and expectations of normal, or even sleep!

But of course, that is how life is with children, especially teens. Every parent already knows this, and it makes for boring blog fare (though it does make for entertaining Facebook posts.) And Kim and I certainly understand that life can change direction on a dime; that is also just how life is.

But I am so happy I can share these normal life challenges with someone who cares. It makes it so much easier to handle, versus making these tough decisions solo. I totally appreciate Kim and our relationship, we are so lucky to have each other. But everyone already knows that, too, no more blog posts needed on that topic, either.

But it is in the normal where the little stresses of life take their toll. There is a lot of help from others for the big things – meals brought over after funerals, hospital visits to people we don’t make the time for when they are healthy, calls just to see how you are doing after a job loss that just don’t get made when things are going “fine” – but the ordinary ups and downs get neglected. We are left to handle the little things on our own.

I am not complaining, just pointing it out, as I now find myself sliding right back into the same habits as I get my own normal back. But this is one of the lessons I learned from the past five years – I’ve got to make it a habit to appreciate the ordinary and normal, too.

“Normal” and routine allows us to accomplish many things everyday – it gets us to work on time, makes sure food is in the fridge and the bills are paid and the cars are inspected – but it takes a lot of our time, and is usually done on auto-pilot, without thinking or appreciation. The morning “goodbyes” are often rote; they certainly don’t convey the meaning they did in the months after my wife died. This is the danger of routine – it encourages the erosion of appreciation for what is truly important, and causes complacency.

This spills over into all aspects of life, whether in our work careers or in our relationships with our families and children, and in our romantic relationships with our spouses or significant others. So we occasionally need reminders that what is normal and routine, is still very special.

Valentine’s Day is one of those reminders. I can certainly recall being jaded and cynical about Valentine’s Day. Geez, gotta buy cards and flowers and candy, another item on my to-do list, another commercialized opportunity for someone else to reach into my wallet. And yes, there are grains of truth to both of those thoughts. But it is also important to remember the days’ intent – to break through the routines that so often takes so much of our attention, and simply take a day to pause to reflect on love, the hardest emotion to protect from normal. It’s still a relevant good intention.

Kim and I so wanted to shout to the world “look at us, look at this incredible love we’ve been granted!” the first couple of Valentine’s Days we shared. But it was too soon, too many would have scorned and judged us. And last year, we lost our Valentine’s Day to another teenager crisis. Ha, but these were all okay, because we were so much in love, and were still building our normal.

Now we have it, and even with our amazing love story and incredible bond, we now have to pause and make a conscious effort at recognizing and remembering our specialness, just like most couples who have been together a long time. And Valentine’s Day gives us that opportunity, every year.

We did something completely ordinary this year – we exchanged cards and flowers, and enjoyed a nice dinner, just the two of us. But we’ve never had that opportunity before, and we so appreciated it, because we have learned the hard way that next year is not guaranteed.

Kim, in her beautiful letter to me, expressed so eloquently what I am trying to say in this post. Valentine’s Day provides “an exterior prodding that urges us to think about our loves, those who make our hearts beat rapidly, those with whom we’ve chosen to build a life”, even among the “celebration of normalcy” that, as Kim pointed out, “feels of so good.”

Certainly, as Kim also pointed out, we have to keep up the exploring and adventuring as an integral counterpoint to normal, and I don’t think we will have any problem with that! We have certainly also learned that adventure and experiences are what makes life worth living – it breaks up the monotony of routine, and we have way too many things we want to do to lose sight of this!

But can we keep up the appreciation the ordinary?

Ahh, that is the challenge.

I see other couples still in love after decades of marriage, and I think they have mastered to art of appreciating waking up together, of sharing dinners and kid challenges, even “the days of sweatpants and no makeup and the nights of just reading or watching tv with the kids.” I hope we can keep that.

We need Valentine’s Day, and birthdays, and anniversaries, not for the cards and the gifts, but to remind us what is important, to jolt us out of complacency. We also need the reminder that the ordinary is deserving of appreciation, too.

So don’t wait until the next big inevitable change and challenge that life will certainly bestow – take the opportunity these special days give us to remind ourselves and others of their specialness, even among the normal…

Saints and Sinners

“Saint: a dead sinner revised and edited.” – Ambrose Bierce, American journalist, 1842-1914

“I hate you dad (mom)! I wish it was you that died!”

This charge has been leveled more than once. It hurts when I hear it, but I don’t blame the kids. I remember feeling the same way towards my mom after my dad died. It’s a natural reaction when life forces us to change way before we are ready. It applies to adults too. And the reality is, sometimes Kim and I do wish we were the ones who died…

It’s not often, certainly not that much recently, now that Kim and I have found each other, and have found in each other someone who truly understands what I am going to talk about. But certainly when we were struggling single parents, the unfairness of the charges that our kids occasionally levied, in their times of weakness, brought home with the force of a body blow the worst unfairness of losing a someone close to you – The Canonization of the Dead.

I understand it. No one wants to speak ill of the dead. We all change our perspective on the deceased, once we have gazed down into their casket and now fully know they cannot defend themselves from whatever slights we might bring up with them if they were still alive. Now we have to let them go. That’s part of the healing that viewings and funerals offer. Its water under the bridge now, it’s time to let bygones be bygones, let’s remember only the happy and good times now. Deficiencies and shortcomings are swept under the rug, and even the deceased’s worst traits are sanitized, laughed at, forgiven.

At some time, usually a bit after the shock of a too young death, but before those closest to the loss have begun real healing, the deceased is made a Saint. Put right up there with Mother Theresa and Saint Paul. From now on, all those around him or her are not allowed to remember flaws, but can now only sing their praises.

The leftover survivors are now deprived of a vital piece of the healing puzzle – the right to be mad at the deceased, for leaving too early, for leaving us with a big mess to clean up, including some of the mistakes the Saint made before leaving.

Let me be clear here – certainly, Debbie was as close to a saint as anyone I have had the privilege to know intimately. Kim has shared with me numerous times that John was a really good guy too, he was just dealt a really bad hand. Both of them shined even more and both truly did march towards sainthood with how they handled their illnesses and how they faced death. Debbie taught me more about grace and dignity and the true meaning of this life than any holy book and all the saints in it combined.

But she was not a saint all her life. She was human, just like me – and she left me with a big ole mess. She left me with a burden that required changing every aspect of my life to deal with. She left me with broken dreams and broken promises. She left me broken.

And in my brokenness, especially at my lowest – I cannot live up to her sainthood. This is what is so unfair. And sometimes it still pisses me off.

My kids now remember only Saint Debbie, the perfect mom whose perfection becomes even more complete when compared to my ineptitude and struggles, especially at first, when I couldn’t even do the simple things right, like grocery shopping and laundry. Family and friends speak only with a reverence about her now, at every remembrance and anniversary and holiday, as they should, but they never mention her shortcomings and flaws. And they certainly never mention the yeoman’s job I do everyday to keep this family going, to keep myself going.

They didn’t see me at my lowest, when there truly was doubt I would make it, when I wanted to just throw in the towel and just drink my responsibilities and life away. Nobody celebrates what a victory it was some days just to get out of bed. It made me mad as hell that we celebrated her, our family saint, all the time – doing charity walks, on birthdays and anniversaries and at holidays – but we never celebrated the one who toiled alone to pick up her pieces.

It’s not fair, I would cry out. All Debbie had to do was die. Dying is easy; it just happens. There is no homework or preparation necessary, it starts happening the day we are born. The Second Law of Thermodynamics – everything in the universe tends toward disorder -cannot be violated. Life is, at best (and only briefly) a breakeven with the forces out to drag us down, but in the end, entropy wins, and life ends. Living is the struggle. Continuing to live, staving off entropy – that’s the hard part. Living is always hard, it never relents, it never stops – until we die.

Certainly carrying on after a partner has left is much harder than leaving, especially if we believe that the next life is better. Extra especially, as in Kim’s case, when you have dedicated so much of your life to taking care of a sick spouse. Only Kim knows the scars she carries from watching a husband fade away over twenty years, of the loneliness of being with someone who is no longer there, of the indignities of brain cancer and the heartbreak of taking care of someone who pledged to take care of you.

Will Kim’s kids at some point recognize that she couldn’t be there as much as she wanted to for them because she was cleaning up her husband’s messes, because she was too tired from working more than full time and trying to run a household and be both parents? Will they grant her some forgiveness that she did the best she could? Will they ever want a “Mom” tattoo? Will they recognize that Kim truly is already a saint, certainly in my eyes, because of what she has already done and the Herculean effort it took just to get to this point – flaws and mistakes and warts and all?

This is part of what cements Kim and I together in such a strong, unique bond. I know, partly, what she has gone through. I know she did the best she could. I know she did better than I could have. I recognize now, before she has died, that she is a Saint.

Will my kids cleanse their memories of my patience breaking, of the screaming and yelling when things didn’t go right, of my breakdowns and shortcomings in those weeks and months and years following Deb’s death? Will they be able to deal with the scars I left on them because I was just too tired, too physically exhausted, to do the things that needed done the way mom used to? Will there be some recognition of how fucking hard it is to juggle raising a family and a career and my own grief? Will they appreciate the choice I made to be there for them after their mom died, or will they hold a grudge for what I couldn’t give them, materially, after I quit my job?

Will Kim and I both be forgiven for the times we curled up and cried and just gave up in the middle of the night? Will we be forgiven for the choices we made, to get together, to blend these families, with all the hardships and change and pain this has caused? Will the kids someday understand that often times the only way we found the strength to get through the next day was in each others’ arms?

The answer is yes. Yes, there will come a time when all is forgiven, when the base understanding we all so long for is finally accepted. When will that be?

When we are face up in the casket.

When others are left to carry on, to fight solo against entropy, to shoulder the burden of life’s daily struggles. When we have become Saints.

But that is not when I want it. I want it now.

And that is why I am not a saint.

“Tripping Over Joy”
by Hafiz

What is the difference
between your experience of Existence
and that of a saint?

The saint knows
that the spiritual path
is a sublime chess game with God

And that the Beloved
has just made such a Fantastic Move
that the saint is now continually
tripping over Joy
and bursting out in Laughter
and saying, “I surrender!”

Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
you have a thousand serious moves.

Debbie taught me one big lesson from her extraordinary passing – that it’s all okay. Our sins and deficiencies are washed away in the grace of forgiveness and surrender. It was a beautiful, profound lesson.

And I have learned since then that life does indeed, work out the way it best should. My problem is that I often cannot see it at the time. It’s not all okay at the time we want it to be okay, and we don’t always recognize that we get what we want, because we often get it much later, at a time when we don’t always appreciate it.

This is one of the biggest gifts Kim and I share – we recognize our specialness, now. We try to remember it everyday (though that will always be a challenge for me when life starts knocking us down and the unfairness of it all begins to teeter towards forgetting that “it’s all okay.”) This is as close as I have come to sainthood. I don’t always recognize it in everyday life.

I recognize the sainthood of my mom now, though. I understand just a bit her struggles as a single parent raising four kids, and my mom’s specialness shines through everyday in her cards and letters and gifts to all of us, in her extraordinary support of Kim and I and our blended family, in her overly generous heart and selfless expression of living everyday in the joy of life. Mom shares the same joy of living that Debbie had.

The truest saint, however, recognizes this specialness and joy in everything – even in the unfairness, like the death of a spouse and being a single solo parent. Even in people’s weaknesses, and mostly, in their own flaws. Debbie achieved sainthood not when she died, but when she accepted her flaws and that “it’s all okay” – even a cancerous fate, a degree of grace that I am not sure I will ever achieve.

It should not be forgotten, though, that she made her fair share of mistakes and fuckups. These are what pave the road to sainthood. Just ask Saint Paul.

And this is the danger of the Canonization of the Dead – it takes away from the honesty and authenticity of a person’s life. We are allowed to talk about those things, even when the saint is gone. It is not a sin to remember that the dead weren’t perfect. In fact, we need to talk about these things, because it is a reminder that even though the deceased weren’t perfect, they still could choose to forgive themselves their imperfections – and we can, too. That is the true path to sainthood…

Vegas Redux

Hello from sunny Las Vegas!

Well, that was the plan anyway. Free airline tics to Vegas, some vacation time left, an anniversary to celebrate, a well needed break from the gray of Pittsburgh in November.

But instead here we sit, staring at the bare branches, the color of fall washed away. Damn I should have never written that last post, the one about how great my life has been. Because it’s certainly different this week…

Today there is a hole in our living room ceiling, and drywall is missing from a large section of wall. Water stains leak through the bricks outside, and heavy-duty industrial fans and humidifiers ran all weekend, drowning out all normalcies. The just out of warranty new dishwasher quit working too, no longer locking shut, probably due to a kid leaning on it. My car has been in the shop all week, too, the gas tank leaking, its 18-year journey showing its’ age. Hmmm, but that’s okay, because there is a new car in the garage now, a car purchased solely by and for Kim, without her consulting me, and I’m not real happy about that. And me, I am physically falling apart right along with my house and car and relationship, five of my fingers bloodied and bruised from playing too hard in the dirt, and worse, a red ring forming around one of my tick bites. Sigh, and oh yeah, we are not enjoying the sun and fun in Vegas right now…

I don’t handle these everyday ups and downs very well. I am chicken little, the sky is certainly falling with just one of these events; it’s an absolute catastrophe when they all pile on at once. After blossoming at my feet for a while, the whole world turned tables against me last week. Well, that’s what it feels like sometimes.

That job I really, really want, that I interviwed for? They never called back. Sure would be nice to know we could handle these financial burdens with two good incomes. We are staring at $thousands$ in repairs to the house and car – so glad Kim decided to drop all that money on another car last week! But the repairs make me feel I need to help out more financially, especially with four colleges to pay for.

The doom really hits rock bottom as I sit and watch coverage of a Trump victory Wednesday morning. The screams of his supporters to repeal Obamacare, which has wonderfully protected my family and has allowed me to stay home and raise them without working full-time (and whose premiums only increased $5 per month for my plan), ratchets up the pressure to get a job with benefits. This combined with the direct impact his presidency will have on Kim’s job (she is a government employee, she protects the US Constitution, but certainly the new administration will not be friendly to those who defend criminals), and there is building wall of fear growing in our house, in our hearts.

I feel vulnerable, very exposed, and my heart is beating so loud that at first I don’t even hear the drips soaking into the carpet right next to me in the living room that terrible Wednesday morning. The ceiling is soaked and sagging; truly the sky is falling…

“Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes.” – Hugh Parker

I write lots of pretty, happy words on this blog, make it seem like my life is blessed all the time. It is not. We have the same ups and downs and challenges as everyone. Kim and I are very special, I know in calm and happy times. But we have our challenges, too, and her buying another used car without discussing it thoroughly with me has put a strain on us, has sent a chill through the house too, especially now, as the repairs and financial pressures mount, as the future looks gloomy and dark. For a few days we were not very special.

I chose not to write about these things because, quite frankly, I don’t want to remember them. I know we all have to experience them, I know our trials test us and force us to grow, but it is not always pretty with me. Kim has much more faith and grace in handling these things than I do, she can one day write about my weaknesses if she chooses, because it is the truth. You can’t hide from the truth in a long-term, committed relationship; life will reveal them, just give it time.

But life also is constantly changing, and it doesn’t stay at the bottom forever. I know this in my heart, and was even able to practice this a bit going through our hell week, though not as much as I should have.

Friday was our anniversary, four years since we met around a campfire on a chilly November evening. We both would have killed to have the “normalcy” of all the crisis we had this week back then. Sure, there is a bit of melancholy and sadness about not celebrating in Las Vegas like we planned, but we have lost worse. And we’ve gained so much more. Even amidst of all these crisis, when we are certainly not at our best and our specialness seems so far away, a simple bouquet of flowers brings us right back to that campfire. Tears well in our eyes; we are no longer the last lone katydid calling out that night.

Life will not always be roses, we know. When life gets tough, you have to just roll up your sleeves and get to work, tackling things one at a time. Kim has taught me this one. She is able to finagle the dishwasher door so that it now closes and we avoided a repair on that appliance. The car repair shop found a used gas tank for my old Honda, and we survived the water leaking all wekend (though it still will be a very expensive remediation, and we still have big holes in the living room.) Antibiotics should take care of my tick bite, and my fingers will heal, and other jobs are out there. We might even survive a Trump presidency, who knows?

True, we had to cancel our Vegas anniversary vacation, trading the sun and sand for frost on the grass in the mornings. Not exactly a fair trade – but we are still together, happily. I catch Kim’s eye as we watch TV with the kids; her lips curl up at the corner, she flashes me her beautiful smile, and we are suddenly locked in again, bonded, connected, soul to soul. The kids don’t notice, the hole in the ceiling is still there, the new car sits in the place of the one still in the shop, but all that really matters is still intact…