Category: Grief

The strongman wept and lifted a giant weight off his chest

The strongman wept and lifted a giant weight off his chest
Risk an unpopular viewpoint and the blog-o-sphere erupts with molten malice; dreaded Twitter monsters lurk behind their venomous hash tags. The twisted values of the social media world deliver a clear message: “Why would you willingly expose yourself to being emotionally attacked and wounded? Dude, do not ever admit to being vulnerable!” It is sad... Read more »

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. And a determined “I’ve got this!”

Deep inhale.  Slow exhale.  And a determined “I’ve got this!”
Over the years I’ve talked openly with several skilled therapists as I sought to understand the traumas of the past that shaped my life. They helped me find answers to the complicated inter-personal puzzles as we worked together to identify and interpret the bygone events. The process was rewarding and enlightening, but there was a... Read more »

I looked in the mirror and let out a gasp. Who was that old guy staring back at me?

I looked in the mirror and let out a gasp. Who was that old guy staring back at me?
The eye-opener came when I realized with a jolt, the pendulum has started its swing; time is running out. It was a freak out moment, but a positive force as well. It gave me the motivation to stop dwelling on attrition from the creep of time and to focus on what I could do to... Read more »
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I’m learning a new behavior. It’s called “Be Who You Are”

I’m learning a new behavior.  It’s called “Be Who You Are”
At the starting point of my adult life I was prepped by what I was told was the basis for success. The definition: big office in the corner with windows on both sides and power to fire anyone who threatened to knock me off the top of the hill. Consequently, the fact that I enjoyed... Read more »

I’m 87 years old and fifty years from now I’ll be having Thanksgiving dinner at my granddaughter’s house

I’m 87 years old and fifty years from now I’ll be having Thanksgiving dinner at my granddaughter’s house
My annual Thanksgiving post published each year as long as my granddaughter and I grow a year older together. This is not a headline about spiking the stuffing with a psychotropic. It’s about the focus of these essays, cheating death by doing the things that give life joy and meaning. For me, of all the... Read more »

Why is it so difficult to believe we are worthy of being loved?

Why is it so difficult to believe we are worthy of being loved?
Over the past years I’ve written about my travels on the road to redemption like reviews on TripAdvisor, describing my progress along the way so fellow travelers approaching the predestined off-ramp can benefit from an awareness of what’s to come and how to handle it. I think the first ‘review’ had to do with confronting... Read more »
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The old gray stallion ain’t what he used to be. But he’s a long way from the glue pot

The old gray stallion ain’t what he used to be.  But he’s a long way from the glue pot
At lunch a few days ago I ordered a cup of tortilla soup.  “Not too spicy, is it?” I asked the waitress. “Modest to medium,” she replied, “nothing to worry about.” Four hours later, bent over double and audibly moaning as the heart burn climbed my gullet, I wondered when I became unable to handle... Read more »

The great and wondrous blessing of being old

The great and wondrous blessing of being old
I sailed through life propelled forward by unknown currents.  At best, I managed to steer from one side to the other, thinking this lateral change of direction put me in control of where I was going.  But in reality, I was powerless. Now in my eighties, I’ve come to a placid, slow moving eddy on... Read more »

Turns out, the Grim Reaper has a sense of humor

Turns out, the Grim Reaper has a sense of humor
The alarm that went off at three o’clock in the morning did not come from my clock radio at the side of the bed.  It came from just below my rib cage and the vibrations spread across my chest, which felt as if in the grip of a tightening vice.  It hurt like hell. Sonofabitch,... Read more »
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Time goes, you say? Ah no! Alas, Time stays, we go

Time goes, you say?  Ah no! Alas, Time stays, we go
In retrospect, the break between surgical procedures was not the best time to visit the Fountain of Time, the sculpture by Lorado Taft situated at the western edge of the Midway Plaisance within Washington Park. Lying flat on my back on an operating table is not the finest warmup for a philosophical wrestle with Father... Read more »