Learning to live....
So, before I get to the meat and potatoes of this blog post, I first want to congratulate my alma mater, Ohio State, on its National Championship win last night. Even though I was tired and struggled to stay awake during the second half, I watched it till the end and like my fellow Buckeyes enjoyed the 42-20 win.
Okay now back to the regularly scheduled program.
I didn't intend to write a blog post this morning, but when I looked at my phone and saw the date Tuesday, January 13th it struck a cord with me. To many of you this date and particularly the combination of it being January 13th and a Tuesday may have no significance, but to me it does. See, 17 years ago I awoke on Tuesday January 13th, a cold winter morning, similar to today and little did I know when the day started that its events would change my life forever.
In past blogs I've talked a little about being raised by my grandparents and the experience and memories of losing them both: "A little follow up to Raised by Women" and "I was going to post about kickball and Boston, but you get this instead..." For me January 13th is forever etched in my memory because its on this day, a fateful, chill Tuesday in 1998 that I would return home from middle school to learn that my grandmother had unexpectedly lost her short 7 month battle with cancer.
If I close my eyes, I can picture the events around that day so vividly in my mind. I remember the concern that myself, my grandfather and Uncle Mark had when my grandmother had fallen in the middle of the night late Sunday. I can picture my grandfather helping her down the stairs that Monday morning as I finished getting ready for school. And I remember giving her a pain pill and kiss just before I left for the bus. That would be the last time I saw her alive. When I returned from school that afternoon she had been hospitalized from complications associated with her fall from the night before.
And yes, I can remember that Tuesday, January 13th and being overcome with emotion as I sat on the couch as I listened to Uncle Mark and my father tell me that she had died. I remember the funeral and sharing the pain of loss with my grandfather who had lost is partner of over 40 years. And I remember when I was told that the family had decided that it would be best for me to go live with Aunt Linda and Uncle Joel, uprooting the life I had known in Pittsburgh and embarking me on an unknown journey to become an adult.
But looking back on it all 17 years later, I can say that it was this experience that helped me to learn to live. There is no learning or growing experience quite like deep loss. Through it you learn more about yourself, your resilience and your resolve to live fully. And I chose to live fully, to take this experience and the experiences that followed and shape them into a life of meaning. I work hard, I laugh hard, I play hard and I love hard, because I learned at the age of 13 that life can be all too short.
I am far from perfect - at times I struggle with confidence, my face is still far to expressive (if you want to know what I am thinking it will likely tell you even if I don't want it to), and even though I am the fittest in my life I still suffer from the fat kid complex. But I also know that I am a committed and loving friend, a tireless advocate and a strong believer in the strength of using compassion to make a difference.
And while my grandmother has never had the chance to meet this Paul, I think she would like him.
Love,
DC3FO
Okay now back to the regularly scheduled program.
I didn't intend to write a blog post this morning, but when I looked at my phone and saw the date Tuesday, January 13th it struck a cord with me. To many of you this date and particularly the combination of it being January 13th and a Tuesday may have no significance, but to me it does. See, 17 years ago I awoke on Tuesday January 13th, a cold winter morning, similar to today and little did I know when the day started that its events would change my life forever.
In past blogs I've talked a little about being raised by my grandparents and the experience and memories of losing them both: "A little follow up to Raised by Women" and "I was going to post about kickball and Boston, but you get this instead..." For me January 13th is forever etched in my memory because its on this day, a fateful, chill Tuesday in 1998 that I would return home from middle school to learn that my grandmother had unexpectedly lost her short 7 month battle with cancer.
If I close my eyes, I can picture the events around that day so vividly in my mind. I remember the concern that myself, my grandfather and Uncle Mark had when my grandmother had fallen in the middle of the night late Sunday. I can picture my grandfather helping her down the stairs that Monday morning as I finished getting ready for school. And I remember giving her a pain pill and kiss just before I left for the bus. That would be the last time I saw her alive. When I returned from school that afternoon she had been hospitalized from complications associated with her fall from the night before.
And yes, I can remember that Tuesday, January 13th and being overcome with emotion as I sat on the couch as I listened to Uncle Mark and my father tell me that she had died. I remember the funeral and sharing the pain of loss with my grandfather who had lost is partner of over 40 years. And I remember when I was told that the family had decided that it would be best for me to go live with Aunt Linda and Uncle Joel, uprooting the life I had known in Pittsburgh and embarking me on an unknown journey to become an adult.
But looking back on it all 17 years later, I can say that it was this experience that helped me to learn to live. There is no learning or growing experience quite like deep loss. Through it you learn more about yourself, your resilience and your resolve to live fully. And I chose to live fully, to take this experience and the experiences that followed and shape them into a life of meaning. I work hard, I laugh hard, I play hard and I love hard, because I learned at the age of 13 that life can be all too short.
I am far from perfect - at times I struggle with confidence, my face is still far to expressive (if you want to know what I am thinking it will likely tell you even if I don't want it to), and even though I am the fittest in my life I still suffer from the fat kid complex. But I also know that I am a committed and loving friend, a tireless advocate and a strong believer in the strength of using compassion to make a difference.
And while my grandmother has never had the chance to meet this Paul, I think she would like him.
Love,
DC3FO