Plane Truth...

                                                          

"If you actions do not prove the truth of your words,

Then all your words are lies"

  -Ritu Ghatourey

Recently myself and a few other widowed friends decided to test the effects of  gravity and embarked upon a mission to accomplish a tandem parachute skydive. The idea had originated with my oldest daughter; she had offered the idea during a conversation we were having. She had said it would be her attempt to conquer her fear of flying. Foolishly I had blurted out that sure, I’d jump with her and later, had mentioned it all to some of those friends. The notion took on a life of it’s own as others began to warm to the idea and soon plans were being made for a meetup in Chicago with the main event being The Jump. Inquiries were made, a skydiving outfit chosen and costs determined; a date was set and we all anxiously awaited its arrival. Oddly enough, (or maybe not so oddly), about a month before the jump was to take place, my daughter begged off, citing ‘a dream’ had come to her and she had decided that jumping at this time was not the next right thing for her to do…uhhh-huhhhh.  At any rate, the rest of us forged ahead with our plans and as the weekend of the actual date came around, folks from other parts of the country began to arrive. We had a couple of days prior to the  jump to do some old fashioned meetup things, see some of the sights of the city and enjoy a meal together and of course talk. Some of the folks had not met before other than on-line and there was much hugging and laughs. For me the meetups have proven to be a catalyst allowing me to expand my somewhat inept social skills and an opportunity to meet some of the very nice people who helped me early on as I struggled with the newness of my Journey. I believe these meetups have made all the difference in my ability to have Hope about the future and about the possibilities of a life without DJ physically being here.

 Inevitably the question is asked: “Why would any sane person want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane?” Naturally, the answers are as varied as is the number of people in existence this moment. Personally, I have trouble with heights and have had a fear of flying despite having served overseas where I had more than enough of flying in both airplanes and helicopters. Even upon my arrival on the West coast, back in the States, I opted to trade in the first class plane ticket which had been issued to me by the military and chose instead to take the almost two and a half day train ride across country to Chicago. Since that time my reluctance to fly has faded and today I can do it almost with total ease. A meetup was instrumental in getting me to this point on the flying issue (1 Flew Over the WidowedNet, Blogspot, September 12, 2012), and for that I am forever grateful. As for the jumping out of a plane, for as long as I can remember it has been a major fear of mine. Until recently I had no great need to resolve or attempt to deal with it, but after my daughter mentioned it, what can be my own worse enemy, my mind, went into action. It is common to hear among the discussions carried on by widowed folks that we have faced the worse event of our lives; many times we speak about how nothing could be any more terrifying than losing our partners. And it is true…I for certain know this is true for me. As I thought about that and the notion of parachuting out of an airplane, the question came to mind, having gone through what I know to be the worse, how can you be afraid to do that? After much pondering I decided I couldn’t be afraid, I just couldn’t be. I could decide not to ever jump out of an airplane, but the reason for it, the reason I would have to know deep inside would need to be something other than fear. So I chose to do it and in order to totally surrender to this idea that fear could not rule in this matter, I also decided that all the stories of mishaps, accidents, and even deaths surrounding such an activity could not be allowed to work overtime in my mind. I would have to approach this with a inwardly steely but outwardly mild reserve and make it an oh, so matter-of-fact undertaking.

 Now, I should point out that these are just my musings on why I did such a thing and the fact is I may really be insane…but who’s to say?  Picking up steam, my mind really began to generate other ideas; perhaps, in order to not only be free of this particular fear, maybe this could be the foundation upon which could be sat another building block of changed Fred’s life. This particular block representing my attempt to have my actions prove the truth of any words I might speak, else those words be lies. It is a curious notion that has plagued me for some time, and I wanted to use it in moving forward knowing I have the opportunity to redevelop my attitudes, opinions and actions all in the very different light of DJ’s death. This now comes down not to what others might think, not to what any mass survey might show as some percentile believing and acting this or that way, no, it comes right down to me and what I think of me. Not in what any words others might have to say about me, but what I say to me, in those quiet times when myself must be met and the truth laid bare. I think I should make it clear here that this is not an attempt to declare myself in training for sainthood, no, far from it; I simply want to make it a point to have my actions actually prove I mean what I might say. Perhaps I have put too much into this, over thought it to exhaustion, I really don’t know; some folks tell me I think too much and that may well be true; I do know this is what coming to terms with the idea of jumping from a airplane led me to think. In my mind, I had said that watching DJ die was the worse and most terrifying thing that had ever happened to me to this point in my life and everything else paled in comparison. If those words are to be proven true for me, then my actions have to reflect that and in my mind, that reflection does not allow for me to say to myself I can’t parachute out of a plane or do anything else because I fear the results, I have already seen the worse...so I jumped. Of course I imagine I could have also attempted to cross the local freeway blindfolded in order to make the point, I'm not sure...

By the day of the event I had pretty much come to terms with the idea of jumping, my reasons for doing it having been examined to the nth degree, were placed in a safe place in my mind and I was at relative peace about it all. It would help me to put some context to the notion about words, truths and actions and I was able to concentrate on how to enjoy the experience. Of course, aside from the rumblings of my moody mind, there are those very real and practical things surrounding all of this. Things which have nothing to do with the dubious thoughts and possibly skewed reasoning of some widowed man’s mind. The jump itself was, for me, breathtaking and thrilling, in that order; I do not know the adequate adjectives to convey the experience so those two words will have to do. If I were better with words perhaps I could describe feeling of being hooked to a Jump Instructor and kneeling at the door of an airplane as the wind whips your goggled face, waiting to exit…any attempts to articulate the tremendous range of emotions which I experienced just prior to leaving the plane would fall short I am sure. I believe it’s one of those events which must be personally experienced to be fully appreciated, much like the loss of our partners. I can say this; beyond some natural anxiety about the unknown, and the very reasonable (I think) realization that might go through anyone’s mind ("I’m getting ready to jump out of a #$@!@##!!G airplane!!"), I can honestly say, fear did not make an appearance.  Racing thoughts, anticipation, excitement and even a bit of nausea were present, but not fear.

It should be kept in mind that this particular activity tho presumably more risky than some others, is really quite commonplace and done by most I’m sure without the personal mental aspects I have attributed to my own experience in doing it. But I do believe it is a very personal undertaking nonetheless. Extending the idea of making our words our truths through are actions may not be limited to just our experience in losing our partners. Expanding it to become a basic tenet of my own life going forward is a conscious decision I am making in order to have some measure of peace about myself in the different life. I am coming to believe that some parts of the past life have to come with us as we move along the Journey; there are many things which served us well and should not be forgotten or left behind. But simply because we are changed, because we are different, there are some things I think we have to create differently. Perhaps I put too much into these things; work too hard to ascribe some deep cerebral meaning to things which may well be best taken at face value, as I said, I really don't know. I think I tend to go where my thoughts lead me and I was brought to these words by this event. Trying to make my words translate into truths by my actions is my attempt to approach the different life with Hope; Hope that we can make the days meaningful, not only to ourselves, but others also, the Hope that we can remember that we are all human and subject to the shortcomings inherent in that status, Hope that our ability to turn our sails into the winds of change will stand fast and despite the sometimes turbulent emotional seas we might find, we can also come to know we are up to the task and yes, even Hope for the truly quiet times when we counsel ourselves, that we will not be too harsh with our missteps or over praise ourselves for having done the next right things. Hope that the fears we have, those deep troubling, private fears which disturb our sleep and keep us anxious for what, we know not, will not maintain a grip on our clearer thinking and better judgement. Hope that we can come to really believe that we have and can use the opportunity to make our words our truths, and that those truths will be proven by our actions.

So, It Goes On...

This will be the third Mother’s Day since DJ died, I can’t say that it is coming with any special anxiety, altho the constant everyday background sadness is spiking some and I did awake crying in the middle of the night a few days ago,  there have been no great waves like in the beginning…not this time...yet. Remembering the year of firsts is cloudy at times, but some things do stand out; the first Mother’s Day without DJ is one. I’m visiting that time now only because of our kids…I’m watching as they endure the agony of reliving the entire episode of DJ’s dying as if it were only yesterday; knowing the feeling, we can understand only too well what they are going through. For the most part, that particular feeling, the one where time appears to be stretched and the order of some events can become jumbled appears to come and go at will; it's that time when you really question yourself as to if this happened yesterday, last week or last year; that time when you will be moving along in the different life, doing what you have come to regard as the new normal and out of somewhere, (not nowhere), you are brought to your emotional knees once again by the impact of the hard realization that yes, your loved one is really gone and all that it implies which also comes along. As a parent, I'm  finding it to be one of the most difficult things to deal with, watching as your children are in pain and being unable to ease the agony. We talk and they know I understand, but as with our own loss of partner grief, this can only do so much, only go so far as it's all just so damn personal...I think just being there has to be enough at times.

 In dressing the kids for special days, I imagine DJ was like many mothers; of course there was shopping to be done for new frocks and what not. Early in our marriage, when the girls were young, she loved dressing them alike, later, as they grew older this lost its appeal for them and today they can laugh as they talk about how much they disliked it as they got older. Plans would be made for the day, for us it was usually a family gathering for dinner with gifts being exchanged at some point. Our family is what I call female loaded, now, this is not a bad thing just the fact of our given situation; there appears to be far more women that men in our family, and almost all of them are mothers. DJ’s own mom, being the matriarch would of course be there and along with other family members who were mothers and they all would be given special praise. Sadly, earlier this year, DJ's mother passed, joining her as a memory for us to keep. The bonding which occurred among those women cannot be denied or underestimated and I’m sure this is adding to the already devastating pain the children are having. Sure, the kids and I have sat and talked about the grief, the accompanying pain and the emotional upheaval it has introduced into our lives but at times talk seems useless; altho enduring our own personal experience of grief, we are supporting one another as best we can and I am convinced it has made a difference in each of our own Journeys. For me, this year, this third Mother’s Day without DJ, I am remembering an earlier time, a time which had been fraught with uncertainty and despair, but in the end, really turned out to be one of the most memorable Mother’s Day we every enjoyed.

 It occurred following what DJ and I had come to call the hungry time, not that we actually went without food, but the pickings had been slim for a while, parts of it are detailed here in ‘Solitaire’, April 21, 2012. Because of the situation, we were feeling pretty low, despite our best efforts, we were barley holding on and day to day living had become a real challenge for the first time in our young married lives. But by Mother’s Day of that year things had picked up and we were able to do those things DJ wanted. It had been a time when we were called upon to totally rely on one another and to develop a special trust that managed to carry us through some of the more trying situations we would face in the future. It could have been a time for blaming and recrimination, when she or I could have turned on the other; but that did not happen. Instead, together, we held firm and rallied. I can recall that year’s Mother Day just as clear today as when it actually took place; the girls standing on the porch, they being dressed in new outfits, our son in a crisp new suit as we prepared to meetup with other family members. That we were able to shop for that Mother’s Day had made DJ especially happy and I can remember being so relived that the storm we had been caught in had subsided. Thinking of all of this that first year had sent me reeling to that place where I believe the children have been trapped for the last few days and I know it’s no fun being there . But this and all of the rest of the things which contribute to our grief are not going away, not as long as we live. Trying to develop and understand how to live with it becomes the challenge I think. For me there are moments when everything appears crystalline, in focus, having such clarity that it is almost frightening; what has happened appears to be understood, a rational step by step approach leading to the final events can be grasped and the inevitable conclusion becomes expected and accepted. Then there are the times when everything appears confused and useless and seems to make no sense at all, when any attempt to place things in any perspective fails and what follows is panic and despair; times whenI am left to ponder just what is the purpose of it all and just how the hell does it matter anyway!  Having no experience at charting a balance with these things, in order for us to try and move ahead, we are left to try this and make a best guess at that. At these moments we are challenged to move forward; when, while dealing with the remnant memories of not only our loved ones who have passed, but also that entire life we enjoyed with them which has also passed. We can be  haunted by those events and times which are no longer, and those special moments we can never again have with them, right down to grieving the loss of an entire state of self; here is where the pain resides for me and where all the obstacles of making any sense of not only the world around me, but of me and my place in it also has to be faced.

 Naturally, here, our level and measures of success are all, truly, relevant; this is much too personal for any grand, all encompassing coverall solution. It is my thought that we each come to whatever peace we may find solely because of our own efforts here and I think it’s only right since we individually have to have answers which only have to make sense to us and with which we can live. Those people and things which help and assist us along the way have their place, but our efforts in incorporating any benefits they may offer into our own Journey will determine just how we handle the trek. At times we can find the presence of others a bother, the quotes, mottoes and phrases can sound hollow and saturate us to the point of burnout and we are left to fend with whatever emotional reserves we can draw on. These are things which I often mention to our children, that it is a marathon, not a sprint; it is a Journey for life.  Barring a serious head injury, we will not awake one day and not think about DJ; I don’t think there will be a time when we will suddenly say ‘Hey, I’m over it…’.   It has become apparent to me that one of the costs of great caring and love is the pain which the lost of it brings; personally I have accepted that it should be like this, the dues must be paid. That doesn’t mean I like them, just that to me, it makes sense that it all should be there and therefore, like many other things in our life, it has to be dealt with; regarding this cost, it is one of the answers that I have made for myself and I am able to live with it.

 So this third Mother’s Day without DJ is at once new and at the same time much like previous special days. The memories it generates and emotions released by their appearance change only in the way we perceive them I think. The pain which is there is the one constant for me, and evidently for our children too. Despite my own misgivings at times, I try to remain emotionally available for them and to understand that just as I sometimes feel no one can know the pain I feel, so they too must have the same thought. Accepting that it will always be this way in regards to DJ’s death can be hard to grasp at times, it’s the one thing which I think will always seem foreign to me, that she’s not here; then again, with her being in my every other thought, in a huge way she is always nearby. So, on we go...