Finding laughter on the journey

[Nancy69]

I have appreciated all of the kind words about my sense of humor in dealing with this new chapter in life that we call the Navy. I spend a great deal of time reading other blogs and posts and I am moved by the raw emotion that so many are feeling. Believe me I understand. My son Chris is my only child and his venture out into the world is not without its difficulty for me. There are the quiet moments that are just a bit too silent. Then there is the jacket that would normally be flung over a chair – absent. The towel neatly draped on the shower door instead of crumpled on the floor. And, somehow these little things that once were an annoyance are suddenly so dearly missed. Without them something just seems strangely out of place. And my humor, while quite genuine, is also my sanity. I thought I might share with you why that may be.
The truth is that our family is coming out of a year that was filled with abrupt endings and upheavals. It was a year that tested each of us and a year in which at times, I feared I may never truly find laughter again. Shortly before my 40th birthday we received a call from my father that my mother had fallen. This was the latest in a 3 year series of falls that had resulted in serious injuries including a head injury from which we nearly lost her. She had been doing well. This was a blow. But, the blow would not end there. There was a spot on her lung. Originally, she had been scheduled for leg surgery until the surgeons called my father and I to pre-op and explained their hesitance to operate. Two days later on Christopher’s 19th birthday the news came: CANCER. We were still hopeful. We moved her to a rehab where she seemed to be doing well. We went to her pulmonologist on Monday expecting a verdict of low level radiation or management. No. The news was worse that anything I could have imagined. It was metastasic lung cancer, probably in her bones. We needed hospice as soon as possible. She would likely not be with us long. And so, we began making the arrangements to bring her home the following week.
On Wednesday morning my dad called and asked if I could change my schedule and meet with the hospice people that afternoon. I called my assistant manager and told him I would take the day and be in on Thursday instead. No problem. Family first is our motto. Around 1 PM I started to tie my boots and get ready to go when my cell phone rang. It was my good friend and one of my supervisors, Steve. There was a tone in his voice I had never heard. “Nancy something happened at the store. There’s been a shooting. Some guy came in with a gun and shot one of the girls in the café. Then he came down the receiving belt and pointed the gun at us. It doesn’t look good.” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. What do I do? Run to my staff? Wasn’t that my responsibility? Go to my family? Shouldn’t that come first? There was nothing I could really do at the store…so after a stream of phone calls I went to the hospice meeting – sick. During the meeting the call came that Johanna had died. I thought I would just fall over.. My phone was ringing off the hook. No one knew but us who it was that had been shot yet. Just tat it was a woman. People were worried – I was safe.
The next day was filled with grief counselors and meetings and news media flocked outside the store. Unreal. It was everywhere; national news. How could this be? Friday I returned to the store. It had been cleaned and the only real evidence of the tragedy was latex gloves and coffee cups left behind by the police and a stray bullet hole in the café. I arrived to find a make shift memorial. Tea light candles lined the back steps to the store…flowers… more news crews out front. I greeted the café manager with a tearful hug. Not possible. I was just picking things up and saw I had a voicemail I assumed it was our home office or a staff member. No. It was my father. The rehab called my mother had slipped into unconsciousness and they were not sure she would make it through the day. I had to go – right away. I had to pull Chris out of school and so we sat, keeping vigil for the weekend. We had the television on that night and tuned to watch Lou Dobbs and AC360. The lead story? A shot of my bookstore surrounded in police tape. Johanna’s face. The security picture of the suspect in my store. I couldn’t believe it. I went to work Monday and Tuesday for the morning to support the staff. It was 4 am Wednesday morning and the phone rang…hurry to the rehab. By the time I called my dad and got dressed the phone would ring again. Mom was gone. I woke Chris and headed there. It all seemed impossible, but it was…real. This happened to other people not me – not my family – not my work. Unfortunately – not so.
So, I had to find my strength. I had to wrestle with my faith. And, in the end I realized some very important things. Life is short and we do the best we can. Love as much as you can while you can. Say thank you. Learn to accept others and not simply tolerate them. Work at forgiveness when it seems impossible. Listen when you’d rather tune out. Give when you can – in whatever way you can. AND LAUGH. Life hands us many unexpected obstacles. It is a journey and a journey that can end abruptly. The key – take the ride – my friends. How it ends and even when it ends are far less important than how you live….take the ride…laugh and love…and when there is loss you will eventually find peace. When the unexpected falls upon you – whether it is a small set back like failing a PFA or being ASMO’d or spraining your ankle a week before the prom…or whether it is the unimaginable….just keep going…keep loving…find the memories that make you laugh. It’s a journey and it’s all worth it. I could look at Chris leaving as another ending – but instead I need to see it as an adventure – a new beginning for us both full of new experiences both wonderful and challenging that we will share. I will cherish the ride wherever it may lead and hope that it lasts a very long time…but knowing that every moment s precious.…. Love and peace to you all…..

[Nancy69]

Thanks all.. but this really wasn't meant to be sad... it is sad... but every door that closes - new ones open. I've been blessed with the best friends you could ever imagine, a loving partner who supports me and is my best friend - a terrific kid - and my mom was the BEST. Since my mom passed I have reconnected with friends I hadn;t seen in 20 years - and picked up right where we left off... reconnected with my Aunt and Uncle and feel closer to my family than I ever thought possible. I start school in March - and will be studying theology to hopefully become a chaplain...not Navy - but elsewhere:) The Good Lord works in mysterious ways.. (whatever name you call Him by). He never leaves you alone...:)