Wisdom...
I have always loved helping people. I seem to have a countenance that people feel comfortable confiding in, sharing with, asking advice from. Even strangers tend to give me their life stories...in waiting rooms, elevators, stores, etc. I welcome those questions. I welcome those stories. Sometimes I offer to pray for them, sometimes I wish them well and sometimes I offer some wisdom.
Wisdom.
What in hell do I know about wisdom? I am a 40 year old wife and stay at home mom who knows nothing about anything. I am most often lost somewhere in my own world. I am most often searching for wisdom from those I believe have found it. My grandparents were wise. My mom is wise. My dad was wise.
What made them so? It was not that they are/were older...dare I say, old. Although, there is some basic wisdom in just living a long life.
No, it is experience. The wisdom comes out of learning from life and what it throws your way.
Experiences in my life I can attest to. I have had many. Some good, some bad, some painful. All mine, and all there to share as needed to help others. I have learned in my own life that hot water burns when it is too hot. I have learned that knives are sharp and will cut your hand when cutting an avocado wrong. I learned that relationships don't work out sometimes for many different reasons. I learned that love is not shown through violence and bullying, and that yes, there are amazing men out there who don't do that. I learned that when you drink too much, you can end up in the hospital and that explaining that to people is embarrassing. I learned that motherhood is the best and worst of you all at the same time. I learned that those bad experiences don't define me, but do help mold me.
By far the most harrowing experiences I have had are the result of people in my life dying. Too many to go through a list, even from just my 40 years. I hate it all. It all hurts. At different stages of life, each hit a little differently, and I guess I have a bit of wisdom because of that.
The most obvious loss is my most recent. Losing my dad has given me a million questions. Questions that no one has answers for. Questions that will go unanswered. The way that people generally approach "answering" the questions are with their own experiences. Their own wisdom. It is all they have because there are no black and white answers. Grief and mourning is a whole lot of gray.
Sharing this loss with my family members, I have realized that while we all lost the same person, our loss experience is different. We all loved him, but we all had our very own special relationship with him. We are all learning to live without him and his own special place in our worlds is empty with no hope of being filled. My memories are mine and theirs are theirs. They are all significant, and as much as we think we understand, there are those special "just between each other" memories that others don't get to share. That makes it hard to comfort but easy to comfort. Grief is so weird.
I have had friends ask for specific help with aspects of grieving. I don't think they would mind me sharing some of those questions, because I asked others the same ones. It is a universal thing to want to try and understand this grief and to feel normal when you feel nothing but strange.
I had a friend reach out with "...how are you doing? I swear it's getting harder and harder and I'm emotional..." My response was this: "Oh, it is awful, isn't it? Those times where you are snotty and sobbing and feeling like there is no end, and usually out of nowhere. You are not alone. I still have them and frankly, I get mad about it. Not the emotions, but at the fact that my dad died. I am mad...but at what? Who? Him? Not at all. God? Nope, I trust Him. So, that leaves me with...nowhere to place my anger. So instead, I cry. Usually after having a rough day because my kids need me and I have heard my name at least 694 ties a minute and my youngest is overtired and whiny and I just. can't. take. one more second...and then they all go to bed. I am alone and thinking 'I want to talk to my dad. He would know what to say to me.' Then I cry. Shamelessly. Believe me...some days, I feel the joy of my life return. It isn't all terrible. And those days are coming more often than they were. But it is always with me and the reminders sneak up on me. So, I feel it, wipe my eyes (and usually my nose because, you know, snot) and square my shoulders because my dad taught me to deal with shit. And this, is definitely shit. So, I get it. And I am so very sorry that you are in the club with me. It is the worst club, but I am here for you." Then she told me that I should write because my dad's gift has been passed to me.
Here I am.
Another friend (paraphrased) said that he thought he was tougher than this and he couldn't understand why it is so hard. My response was: "Yep. I get it. It sucks. And you are tough...this is just tougher. There is no way to reconcile this...everything is just wrong. Eventually, you will feel less like you are moving through a mold of jello. But, it won't go away completely. The random bouts of emotion will slow to few and far between, but as long as you have memories, the pain will still be there. Dull, but there. Feel it when you feel it. Only real advice there is...ride the waves. You lost your dad, not your keys." He responded with a question about how I am holding up. "I am functioning. I have had some rough moments, some realizations, some 'this pisses me off because my dad should be here' times. This grief thing is a real learning curve...But there is always laughter and that makes the hard times more bearable."
I have learned that there is a lot of wisdom conveyed in honesty. So if you ask me, I am going to tell you. I am going to share my experiences with you honestly. I hope you will all do the same for me.
Dad had the wisdom to know we would always need his words. This is his final blog post and while it still hurts, it brings me comfort.
https://flashesoftheobvious.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-final-flash.html
With love, we will all get through it.
Wisdom.
What in hell do I know about wisdom? I am a 40 year old wife and stay at home mom who knows nothing about anything. I am most often lost somewhere in my own world. I am most often searching for wisdom from those I believe have found it. My grandparents were wise. My mom is wise. My dad was wise.
What made them so? It was not that they are/were older...dare I say, old. Although, there is some basic wisdom in just living a long life.
No, it is experience. The wisdom comes out of learning from life and what it throws your way.
Experiences in my life I can attest to. I have had many. Some good, some bad, some painful. All mine, and all there to share as needed to help others. I have learned in my own life that hot water burns when it is too hot. I have learned that knives are sharp and will cut your hand when cutting an avocado wrong. I learned that relationships don't work out sometimes for many different reasons. I learned that love is not shown through violence and bullying, and that yes, there are amazing men out there who don't do that. I learned that when you drink too much, you can end up in the hospital and that explaining that to people is embarrassing. I learned that motherhood is the best and worst of you all at the same time. I learned that those bad experiences don't define me, but do help mold me.
By far the most harrowing experiences I have had are the result of people in my life dying. Too many to go through a list, even from just my 40 years. I hate it all. It all hurts. At different stages of life, each hit a little differently, and I guess I have a bit of wisdom because of that.
The most obvious loss is my most recent. Losing my dad has given me a million questions. Questions that no one has answers for. Questions that will go unanswered. The way that people generally approach "answering" the questions are with their own experiences. Their own wisdom. It is all they have because there are no black and white answers. Grief and mourning is a whole lot of gray.
Sharing this loss with my family members, I have realized that while we all lost the same person, our loss experience is different. We all loved him, but we all had our very own special relationship with him. We are all learning to live without him and his own special place in our worlds is empty with no hope of being filled. My memories are mine and theirs are theirs. They are all significant, and as much as we think we understand, there are those special "just between each other" memories that others don't get to share. That makes it hard to comfort but easy to comfort. Grief is so weird.
I have had friends ask for specific help with aspects of grieving. I don't think they would mind me sharing some of those questions, because I asked others the same ones. It is a universal thing to want to try and understand this grief and to feel normal when you feel nothing but strange.
I had a friend reach out with "...how are you doing? I swear it's getting harder and harder and I'm emotional..." My response was this: "Oh, it is awful, isn't it? Those times where you are snotty and sobbing and feeling like there is no end, and usually out of nowhere. You are not alone. I still have them and frankly, I get mad about it. Not the emotions, but at the fact that my dad died. I am mad...but at what? Who? Him? Not at all. God? Nope, I trust Him. So, that leaves me with...nowhere to place my anger. So instead, I cry. Usually after having a rough day because my kids need me and I have heard my name at least 694 ties a minute and my youngest is overtired and whiny and I just. can't. take. one more second...and then they all go to bed. I am alone and thinking 'I want to talk to my dad. He would know what to say to me.' Then I cry. Shamelessly. Believe me...some days, I feel the joy of my life return. It isn't all terrible. And those days are coming more often than they were. But it is always with me and the reminders sneak up on me. So, I feel it, wipe my eyes (and usually my nose because, you know, snot) and square my shoulders because my dad taught me to deal with shit. And this, is definitely shit. So, I get it. And I am so very sorry that you are in the club with me. It is the worst club, but I am here for you." Then she told me that I should write because my dad's gift has been passed to me.
Here I am.
Another friend (paraphrased) said that he thought he was tougher than this and he couldn't understand why it is so hard. My response was: "Yep. I get it. It sucks. And you are tough...this is just tougher. There is no way to reconcile this...everything is just wrong. Eventually, you will feel less like you are moving through a mold of jello. But, it won't go away completely. The random bouts of emotion will slow to few and far between, but as long as you have memories, the pain will still be there. Dull, but there. Feel it when you feel it. Only real advice there is...ride the waves. You lost your dad, not your keys." He responded with a question about how I am holding up. "I am functioning. I have had some rough moments, some realizations, some 'this pisses me off because my dad should be here' times. This grief thing is a real learning curve...But there is always laughter and that makes the hard times more bearable."
I have learned that there is a lot of wisdom conveyed in honesty. So if you ask me, I am going to tell you. I am going to share my experiences with you honestly. I hope you will all do the same for me.
Dad had the wisdom to know we would always need his words. This is his final blog post and while it still hurts, it brings me comfort.
https://flashesoftheobvious.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-final-flash.html
With love, we will all get through it.
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