6 Weeks

 

It was 6 weeks and some change.  6 amazing weeks.  A small moment in the grand scheme of things for sure, but so wonderfully big regardless.  It was late summer, so that was fitting.... An ending of a season and an introduction to another.   Chelta was in Atlanta for 6 weeks of flight attendant school, so it was just the two us. 

Never had I spent 6 entire weeks alone with any of the kids.  So, this was special.  I didn't have a plan other than I knew that I would try my hardest to be at her beckon call as much as I possibly could. If there were any time in her life that I was not going to miss it was during these 6 weeks.  

It was definitely not a normal summer.  I never asked her but she might have said it was her worst summer ever. Had I gone through what she did, it would have been the worst for sure.  For me, it was a surreal and ambiguous time. We played it by ear one day at a time.  I never knew what each day would yield.  What I did know was that Alexa was forced into deep introspection of her life.  Achingly deep.  I wouldn't say she was lost, but maybe a bit 'untethered' for a little while.  Winnie the Pooh's probably said it best:

“I'm not lost for I know where I am. But however, where I am may be lost.”― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

However lost she might have been, she never forgot who she was.  She has made a career out of that.  Maybe it was more like finding her footing in some shifting sand that caused her to tread a bit more carefully.   Her world got seriously rocked without warning and knocked the emotional breath out of her.  It may have even chipped a tooth or so... Yes, it was a pretty violent gale.  As the sky darkened and the heavens poured out the heavy rain upon her you never would have thought that Love was at the heart of that thunderstorm.

"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."

Gibran, The Prophet

Yes.... Alexa was shaken to her roots and she didn't know what to cling to.  So, what could I do?..... Well, not a lot.  So I started watching her carefully.  I tried seeing inside her trying to see where she was.  I tried not to say very much and I began to witness the remarkable way she started to handle the aftermath of that storm. No raincoat, no umbrella, no shelter......Just sheer will and some help from Heaven.

I watched her rise up, move forward step-by-step, solid, but slow.  She needed to chart her own path towards better weather, a new beginning, renewal of spirit and soul.  I am not sure what point on the horizon she picked, but she found something, and with sheer force of will, managed to forge a new route out of that troubled place.  

It was one of the only times in my life that I could maybe take care of her for a bit.  She has always been independent, but she let me in and we had some wonderful moments of interdependence.  And when I say take care of her, I mean I would check in with her and see how she was doing.  She didn't need much more than that, but it seemed like that was the lifeline we both needed to know each other was ok.

I didn't always know what to do or say so sometimes taking care of her meant not talking, just listening to music or sitting watching something on TV or just being.  She helped me learn the meaning of one of our favorite songs:  

"You say it best, when you say nothing at all"

I remember diving more deeply into the meaning of the term "Sitting with someone in grief."  There isn't a perfect google search or handbook answer for that, but it is best learned through doing it.  I haven't always known how to do that.  I felt like figuring out how to do that might be the best balm of healing I could offer.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh," he whispered.

"Yes, Piglet?"

"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw, "I just wanted to be sure of you."

I will always remember the healing power of the many indoor soccer games she had multiple times a week, always at night.  Nothing delighted me more than to get that one text of the day -- "I have a game tonight if you want to come."  She will never know of the many tears that came to my eyes when I got those.  They were like little life lines being thrown out for me to grab onto something solid.  I loved driving down to Provo to watch her play. 

I witnessed an increased toughness in her attitude and play on the pitch.  She took more chances, anticipated what the other players were doing, and played super smart soccer.  She was more aggressive and didn't shy away from contact.  I won't know what was going on inside of her head, But I liked it!  It was really fun to watch her lift herself up and out of the rain and find success where she could.  It was so important to find things that were in her control, things that felt familiar.  She found a new place to live, made new friends, reached out to old ones and started serving others.  I couldn't be more impressed with the way she shaped each day, carefully and simply.  I am sure there were very emotional draining moments that I never saw that she experienced in quiet behind closed doors.  Regardless, they never got the best of her.  Each passing day she got stronger.  We would get snacks and laugh about little things. it was beautiful...... to me.

It was if each week represented a a milestone of growth.  Every week was like a new pillar of strength that she set in the ground.  By the end she had 6 of them anchored on each side of the new road she was paving.  They were like mighty mile markers to chart her progression from old to new.....from past to promise...... from fear to hope.  That is what I will remember about those 6 weeks.  The little spaces where we could be together, in unity, taking each day at a time watching those pillars rise high.

“You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.”— Christopher Robin

Near the end, the best moments were when she laughed.  Just like in the photo above.  That is Alexa right there.... full of light, full of quiet determination, full of wanting to laugh each day.   I wonder what those 6 weeks will end up meaning to her.  They were everything to me.  It was fleeting as time often is... playing it normal tricks on us, making some moments last forever and then in the next second everything flashing by like a speeding train. 

I have thought about those 6 weeks often this past year.  It was like a perfect chapter in her book of life that I got to watch her write.  How lucky was I?  As the last week neared the end I had this thought come to me quickly... "This would never happen again".  I would never have 6 weeks like this again.  I felt this terrible pang of knowing and already felt the saudade rise in my chest.  It hurt and I smiled at the same time.  Difficult to explain, but yet Winnie once again seems to understand so well:

“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

—Winnie the Pooh

I would never wish what caused those 6 weeks on anyone.  No, that would be cruel.  But, if that particular thunderstorm comes your way, and you find yourself with the prospect of a speck of time like I did, I hope you have an amazing ride too...and if you do, please let me know so that we can share some thoughts that no one else will ever understand.  I would love to acknowledge your wonder as you do mine..... 

Alexa..... You won you know....You did it!  You did this thing called life perfectly.  You are amazing to me.  If I could frame those texts during those 6 weeks I would.  Just know they are hanging in my hall of fame.  I will never forget our 6 weeks.

 “The most important thing is, even when we’re apart, I’ll always be with you.” — Winnie the Pooh

Screaming on Father's Day

Edward Munch's painting is as iconic as the Mona Lisa except it is its opposite.  Many say it is a visualization of humanity's angst and describes an intense feeling of apprehension, anxiety, or inner turmoil.

The scream descended upon me today, ironically of all day's.... Father's Day.  It came heavy and with much weight.  Much like Munch's work, it distorted my reality.  It came with little warning and it came at night.  By the end of it, I had my head in my hands, deeply unsettled, deeply disturbed and feeling absolutely horrible about myself.  

I might form a small hope of possible recovery if I had only committed a few wrongs, but what do I do when a lifetime of calculated manipulation is tagged to my soul?  When the anger pointed at me is so severe that there is no light left to shine on anything of worth, only my betrayal, manipulation, deceit and resentment. There must be some truth, so I dig....

What kind of person could be the cause of such negative words?  I can only rewind the tape a thousand times and see all the mistakes made.  As the hours of reflection drone on endlessly, there are a ton of them, in fact, I see them racking up with each day I review....I see only failures.... failures of such magnitude that there is no sense of hope of reconciliation.  The hurt I caused is unforgivable for sure. How could there be any room for a change of heart?  Not after what I have done.  It would be better to be buried beneath a mountain, and even that wouldn't be enough.  No, I don't deserve that.... what I deserve is violence.  Yes! that is the rightful punishment for my sins.  Not with hands, no, that wouldn't cause enough pain......Elbows are much more effective tools I am told. 

Doesn't violence normally set the world right again? 

History has shown it to be so.  Those who profess peace, harmony and acceptance with all often are disguised as ravenous wolves underneath that false facade.  They are justified in their violence because there is only their truth, their way.  If challenged, there is no dialogue, just removal.  Why? Because hurt goes only one way, not two.  But, this is different....What if one of the parties has broken total trust?  What if the manipulation was intentional, diabolical and full of resentment over a lifetime?  Wouldn't that justify violence?  It must.

I can only sit with the screaming, waiting for the pound of flesh to bring relief.....to both of us.

I will take it, elbow after elbow until there is no face left... disfigured, unrecognizable.  I just hope I will be able to muster a smile knowing that at least one of us will be reconciled..... I just wonder which one of us it will be.

PS: I should apologize for being so dramatic and pathetic, but that would be manipulative so I won't.