Author: ferylfiles

It’s not a word; it should be. This Sunday is Bryan’s celebration of life. A piece of me is looking forward to seeing people who also loved my person gathered in his memory and honor. I want to hear stories I’ve not heard before, learn how his life affected others. That will be very good indeed.

And I dread it all, too. As an introvert and a highly sensitive person, it’s hard not to feel everything in a room full of people and this room full of people will be wholly different and on a magnitude that kind of scares me. I know what my broken heart feels like, but seeing it in others too…ooph.

So, how can I refocus on what is good and not what hurts so dang much. It’s a beautiful spring. Our tulips are late and just in time for this weekend. People are coming from all over the country to celebrate Bryan and love Mary and me. The venue, the caterers, all our close friends and family have been encouraging us and offering their solace, support, and care. The one thing that has never been in doubt is the love. The love Bryan had for us, we for him and for each other. And love doesn’t die.

When I was a kid and my parents were in the midst of their divorce I’d get knots in my back and my skin would develop little itchy patches. In a high school PE class, I overextended my knee. Now, anytime rain is imminent, I feel it coming. Several years ago, I was on a drive to Portland with Bryan and I was twisting wire into hoops for my jewelry business. That repetitive action gave me a pretty wicked case of tendinitis in my right arm that flares up under stress. Our bodies are like those old wax cylinder records that have the recordings of our life’s experiences etched in the grooves of our cells. Grief plays those records loudly.

Instead of a to do list for Sunday, I have a gant chart and my body rebels. Sleep eludes. The tendinitis is screaming. The knots in my back seem to multiply like tribbles. Fortunately, I have a massage scheduled. I’ve been putting CBD ointment on my arm like it’s my parttime job. I take naps. Or naps take me. The jury is still out on that one. I am not ashamed to take two baths and a shower in a day for the water therapy. All this to say that the waves crash, but I’m still paddling like I mean it.

In times past, the best way to manage stress and anxiety were Bryan hugs throughout the day. That’s the one treatment I long for most.

Bryan used to use West Marine Epoxy for all kinds of repair jobs. Mary and I chuckle about how he could fix just about anything with the stuff. No duct tape in this family, huh uh, we go for the big guns. Broken chair? No problem. Boat parts. Easy Peasy. Random busted thing? Got it.

Too bad broken hearts can’t be patched back together with a little of the stuff. Yesterday evening Mary and I went through family photos to prepare for Bryan’s service. I don’t want to speak for her or tell her side of the story, but I can say with 100% certainty being in the “lost my daddy club” is garbage. Absolutely devastating trash. Mine has been gone for four years. Hers has been gone for seven weeks. None of this is good or easy or fun. 0/10, do not recommend.

One of the most humbling things about being human for me is knowing there are certain things I cannot fix at all. I cannot heal someone else. I cannot repair a broken heart. I cannot make the sadness stop. We get tidbits of wisdom from random places and I heard this guy speak for a bit about how the difference between his 20 year-old self and his 50 year-old self is that he went from wanting to and believing he could fix everything to a mentality of working to make things better.

Maybe because we’re just so limited in our capabilities that’s the best we can hope for–to make it a little better. But on the other side of that, there’s tremendous grace and maybe even joy and freedom. If I relinquish the burden of fix it and hold fast to the notion of make it better, I can navigate life with more clarity of purpose and less anxiety.

Yesterday evening, Mary, and her roommate, Jeremy, came over to make bagels. Jeremy got here a little earlier and we started right off with the hallowed and much-Lubbers-lauded jalapeno cheddar bagels, Then we made a batch of everything bagels. Finally we finished with a batch of plain. Of course we sampled the jalapeno cheddar ones as our dinner. I reference these often enough that should any reader care to make them, here is the link to the recipe: https://www.sophisticatedgourmet.com/2009/10/new-york-style-bagel-recipe/

Threaded throughout the evening was a continuation of our family tradition, sharing songs we love or find novel or timely. Jeremy and I discussed how much we both liked Postmodern Jukebox, particularly this cover of Radiohead’s “Creep.” Then I encouraged/made/forced? Mary and Jeremy to listen to Mac Davis’ “Hard to be Humble.” Surprisingly, Jeremy already knew it and could sing along, which tickled me to no end. We threaded in a couple of pieces from the Broadway musical Book of Mormon, particularly “Turn It Off” which had us in absolute stitches. Mary then introduced me to Bardcore–a very bored attorney during Covid decided to do Medieval-style covers of pop tunes and I was frankly blown away by the clever creativity.

I think it’s so appropriate that we use the term “play music.” My mom once gave me this cute little booklet with charming drawings about the importance of play. To play and delight in and celebrate have always been part of who I am determined to be. While I am slammed with aching pangs of grief throughout my days and nights, these moments of play seem even more vital to survival.

I catch myself taking shallow breaths, particularly when I’m by myself. I can feel my tongue tighten on the roof of my mouth. My jaw clenches. Flashes of memory come into my mind, some welcome, some so haunting I stop breathing altogether. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Repeat.

My dad passed on this date four years ago. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

We still have details to finish for Bryan’s service. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

Another day with him gone. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.