The Big 5-0

Birthdays (any yearly reminder of significance really) of those that have walked the Rainbow Bridge can be hard for the griever.  This past February would have been a significant milestone for Jen...she should be 50 years old.  While the daily triggers to thoughts and reminders were still occurring before this birthday, the intensity definitely increased as the date came and went.  I took me into the afternoon before I could muster the courage to reach out to her sister.  I am walking through Wal-Mart, balling, as the conversation progresses.  She thanks me for reaching out...While she had remembered earlier in the day, having someone check in with her helped her to realize that others still cared, it helped to validate that Jen existed, and she was important in the lives of those she touched.  It broke my heart that she was reaching that point of wonder and I encouraged her to give me a shout anytime those thoughts resurfaced.  She posted a lovely tribute on Facebook later in the day and interspersed among the "Happy Heavenly Birthdays" were some genuine reminders that even with a brief time on the planet, Jen had a significant impact.

Being on the high side of the emotional ebb and flow of grief from the birthday, I decided to return to the GriefShare support group for, well, support.  The past meeting was extremely small due to some bad weather, just the two facilitators and one other lady that began the program about the same time as I did.  We were familiar, but I had not been exposed to as much of her story as the facilitators had been through past interactions.  I was actually a great meeting.  It went long and we went deep into the individual issues of the day for all of us.  During my sharing I revealed the one subject that, while not technically off-limits, I just do not really discuss much with my wife is Jen.  At first I say that it is out of respect for my wife, that I do not want her to feel threatened by the connection I had with Jen.  One of the facilitators talks about her story where her second husband encourages her to share stories and the antics of her first husband that passed suddenly.  Not threatened at all.  We (they) dig some more...okay!  It makes me feel like I am cheating on my wife.  The fact that I loved Jen and still think about her makes me feel dishonorable.  They call me on this one too.  That is on me.  That they would feel hurt to have the decision, of whether the subject of Jen can be discussed, removed from their say in the matter.  If my wife does not want to talk about it, she should be offered the choice.  Worse case, yeah, she is not comfortable talking about it, and the other side of the coin, she is and I can get feelings off my chest and share stories freely...or somewhere in the middle.

It is an interesting slap in the face.  I am wrestling with it, as I always do.  Yes, I want to respect my wife's ability to choose for herself, and at the same time, just asking for her to make a choice feels like cheating.  My wife has been a trooper through this late round of resurfacing grief, and has makes me feel like she believes that love is additive, not an either or situation.  I will likely mull it over for several more days (even weeks) and then breakdown and ask the question, but I have to get over the 'ick' factor too.

How have others approached it with subsequent significant others?  Is it off limits?  Is it free discourse?  Are stories shared only?  What about feelings that still remain?

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Comes the Dawn

My aunt passed away towards the end of June 2021.  We were never particularly close, I visited her in California for a couple weeks when I was in middle school, but otherwise contact was limited.  She had some medical issues that prevented her from having children and (what I pieced together) a strained relationship with her father that caused her to sever most ties with the family, with perhaps some jealousy towards the family that my father was able to have.  When she passed away I went with my father to start the estate process.  She had no surviving family, so the next of kin role defaulted to my dad and I suspected that he would need help, if nothing more than emotional support. We walked into an apartment stacked with YEARS of junk mail and paperwork to sift through, books stacked waist high in every room, empty boxes of lightbulbs, and even burned out lightbulbs saved.  In the process of this sifting, I ran across a poem she had printed out that for some reason really struck a chord with me.  I remembered that she had written poetry and even been published in a couple smaller outlets.  She obviously had an attachment to it that spoke to her heart and experiences, but I detect a power in the somewhat universal feelings that are being explored, even if specifically written from a female point of view.

Comes the Dawn

author disputed...

After a while, you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to understand that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head held high and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

You learn to build your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling in midflight.

After a while, you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden

And decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure,

That you really are strong,

That you really do have worth,

And you learn and learn...and learn...

With every Goodbye, you learn.

Notes that I found within the mountain of miscellany suggest a long-running disgust with her father (my grandfather) and, while I do not know the whole story, it does not seem outlandish.  It strained her relationship with the whole extended family and was always felt as antipathy for the others in the family.  Her animosity towards me was tangible within the papers that I found.  I don't understand the reasons why and will never have the full set of answers.  And I can confidently say that our stories and experiences growing up were different.  Yet, for some reason, this poem connected with me at a deep (even low-frequency) level when I found it in her mountain of papers.  I can feel her feelings and reasons for attachment to the poem, despite holes in the backstory, and even focus in on my own journey through the lens that author has crafted.  Perhaps the feelings explored within are simply casting light upon truly universal human conditions, but part of me feels like I was supposed to find this work for healing within my own microcosm.  Maybe my aunt even guiding me to find it as a gift.

Hopefully, this work strikes a chord with you as well, to start a healing process or add to a foundation of support for the struggles that you are currently experiencing.  People keep saying that it will be alright, and I am hoping that they know something that I don't and are correct.

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GriefShare Support Group

<<<Sidenote First>>>...The night before the support group meeting Jen appeared in my dreams again.  We were back at high school age.  I sat down with her at a lunch table, but it felt like we hadn't 'officially' met yet.  Awkward stares and moments of silence.  I started to talk and then she was standing, staring, concerned.  It had a feeling like, "How dare you talk to me, you don't know me."  Well, maybe not that harsh, but definitely a guarded body language.  I began again, almost in a pleading fashion, but do not recall the exact words...or any words for that matter.  Not sure if I was asking for her to return, asking for forgiveness over 'yelling' at her and saying I was done with the spirit-hijinx, or trying to get out the elusive message that has bothered me for so long.

Additionally, I have started reading the book Radical Forgiveness.  It is a strange way of reframing the issue with the deceased (in my specific case).  Strange in that it is not forgiveness so much as viewing the hurt through a different set of assumptions.  I have just started, so I need to complete the book to fully work the process, but at a high level, we (our souls) all begin as energy, one with God, and connected.  We come to Earth in human form to experience the pain of being separated from God and the collective, and to learn a (pre-determined) set of lessons.  We sign up for the specific and individual experience.  We develop an (or possibly many) assumption from an early experience, likely our lesson that we signed up for, and usually an incorrect conclusion based on flawed assumptions that we developed.  Patterns of hurt continue to repeat in various ways until we work through the flawed assumption.  Other souls are tuned into our soul needs and even provide the hurts and situations we need to correct and learn our lesson.  So we are not actually looking to learn to forgive these souls, but rather to thank them for pushing us to find the solutions that we are here to learn and experience.  At least that is what I think that I have read so far.

So I need to figure out my hurt and the incorrect assumptions that have lead me to keep embracing them and encountering them and then I can see how Jen's accident contributed to the lesson that I need to learn.  Hopefully, later chapters help to identify the underlying bad assumption and hurt.  The ideas that I have bouncing around in my head include, "I matter/My needs matter/I am important enough (at least to the collective)", something around feeling Lost or Destabilized, and/or "I am allowed to be happy", or ???

It is an interesting way to reframe the situation(s), and has lightened my spirits, so I feel it is going in a positive path forward.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...I went to my first support group meeting, GriefShare.  Upon introducing myself, I only mentioned Jen's death, as that is the one that I keep reliving.  Most others were sharing a multitude of tragedies, so I did feel blessed in a way that waves of death and grief are not my derailment scenario.  The format is one of a video lesson compiled by experts and peppered with first hand accounts of the grief journey, followed by a sharing of reactions and experiences to what we were just exposed to.  It has only been one meeting (of 12 or 13 weeks), but I think the format works and I am very much willing to continue down the path.  There were a few interesting nuggets in video that will warrant further exploration.

• The experience of being numb right after and not recalling much in the first days (even to the point of someone on the video wishing that they had videotaped the funeral).
• That grief is a consequence of Love - where more Love means more hurt upon death.

And while not necessarily called out in specifics, I wanted to dive into more of the notion of

• How to rebuild or recreate relationships and the feeling of connection lost when these important people in our lives are ripped away from us.

I missed the next meeting and got back on track for the third session.  This one went a little sideways...The volunteer leader was not there (out from a surgery) and the group was left to her second in command.  A combination of maybe not explaining myself well in my comments within the group (trying to share that each journey is unique) and this second in command liking to talk, I didn't feel like I was allowed to feel the way I do or the actions that I have taken need to change.  Seemed contrary to the video message and all of the experts' opinions.  This may be one of the downsides to volunteer led groups, someone with a therapy background and experience may be needed to fully realize the benefits of this type of group therapy.  Perhaps I am being too sensitive and need to hear these critiques...I just left feeling, not angry, but disrupted.

I'll give it a couple more weeks before pulling the rip cord and we will see.

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Feedback to a Friend

I had a conversation right after a posting that I put on Facebook referencing Jen (and since deleted) with a friend.  They made a comment about the possibility of a 'spirit' being trapped in limbo if the griever does not release them (get through the grief).  The comment has been rattling around in my brain for a couple months, and not in a good way.  It hurt.  It angered me.  The message received by me was that I was harming (trapping at least) her spirit by still being grief stricken.

I wrote out a response to collect, soften, and make sure I was complete in my thoughts and reaction.  When I originally started out, it was going to be a quick comment to be sent by text.  It grew.  It was heavy.  Texting it seemed to be mean-spirited in itself, while it was not actually intended to be mean, just feedback.  I was then going to call and talk (or read it to them).  It does not allow for rebuttal comments, it is just feedback, honest feedback on feelings.  As I read through it again and again, I started to wonder where input would occur from their perspective?  If they even remember the specific offending comment, would they feel threatened, attacked?  Then I started wondering what I even expected from giving the (unsolicited) feedback?  What was my goal?  To help them when discussing grief and loss with another?  Or to say that I was hurt?  Does it matter?  Does it really change anything?  Does it even harm the relationship?

I am not sure...

But these are the type of questions that I could have gone over with Jen.

<Friend's Name>

 

As I go through the grief process (for the third time..."Slow learner" and "Stupidest smart person you'll ever meet" come to mind) I cannot help but fixate on the comment you shared with me about the possibility of a person stuck in "Limbo" if they are not released by the griever.

 

Honest feedback, as life long friends, it sucked.  Please remove it from your toolbox.  It felt mean.  It feels mean still.

 

I truly believe that it was not intended to be mean.  I am not mad at you for sharing your (potential) belief, per se.  I typically welcome it!  And I am not asking you to believe or not believe a certain way.  It is just that I am not sure this one is helpful for a person in the thorough's of grief.

 

Over the years you have dropped some tidbits of wisdom and insight into how I am perceived by the outside world.  You may not have even realized the scope of the impact when given.  They may not have been requested, sometimes even hurt, but ultimately were (are) true, and they allow me to assess and course correct.  And unfortunately, I do not know how to guide you on assessing the impact that they will have before sharing them, so I continue to welcome (even request and ask for) these nuggets of wisdom and insight, with the commitment to share when they hurt too much (and not in an angry way).  This one really hurt though.

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Can You Spare a Dime?

I thought I was done. Recovery in process. Moving on...But the Tilt-A-Whirl does not stop. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that my mind does not let it stop.

After meeting Jen's family back in August 2020, I had been reflecting on the visit. The soul crushing sadness is gone. Replaced by a low-level sadness, sure. But I think that I needed confirmation that the person I knew was really the person others knew her as too. I was afraid that the two would not be the same, that I was elevating, romanticizing, a connection that was not there or real. Not really interacting with people she knew, I didn't know if they knew the same person. The meeting was good to me in this regard. Confirmation was obtained. Her family brought up memories that were in sync with mine. I was able to answer questions that they had. And they answered many of my questions. I was able to add to back stories, share our single 'date'. It was new information for them, perhaps a little shocking to her Mother, but satisfying to her sister that Jen was able to pull off some typical, even rebellious, teenage shenanigans. The meeting was sufficient to put those concerns to rest. It felt like the door was closing, I had a feeling of peace, healing, and closure could set in and I could move on. I even 'received' a dime at the QuikTrip afterwards, my sign from Jen that she was there, and perhaps smiling.

It seems comical now that I would doubt my relationship and connection to the 'real Jen', but in isolation and after this many years, a mind can play cruel tricks. I was even starting to come to a realization that I may not have been the person for her (if a long term Jen were to have existed), no matter how much I loved her. I just would not have been the person that could have gotten her to her dreams and potential. The funny thing is, by and large, I think I'm okay with it. And in a way that I never would have been back then, if she had to have told me. Intellectually, I know the what-if's are fruitless...yet I still find myself deep in that hole. The recent change that I am starting to come to grips with, even if the accident didn't happen, 'we' may not have happened...or if I did somehow will it to happen, it may have ended poorly. Maybe it is a closure thing in my mind. That she was ripped away and closure (good or bad) never happened. But the more I play with the idea, the more the realization comes that, despite my level of love, I am not sure that the final outcome would have been good. And yeah, that would have sucked, but it would have also been such a disservice to her.

So my emotions began to settle down, for about a month. Then in late September, guess who was calling me in my dreams? What the fuck is wrong with my noggin? I seriously feel done, over it. Sadness has left the building. Why can't my unconscious come for the ride? In the dream, I even told her that I was done. Over it. Seriously, it's okay. She calls me back crying? WTF?!?! I got the confirmation that I was searching for. As much closure as can be expected. What the hell is left, what is my mind still searching for? Is it now just a long, drawn out ache from a hole in my soul? Does this wound ever heal? It has been 30+ years and I still have not figured it out. I have a sneaking suspicion that I never will. And the dimes stopped appearing...

Did I chase her away? Damage the memory or the relationship? With a dead person??? I am sorry! That is not what I meant to do. But I feel like I hurt her...her ghost. I want the dimes back. The gentle reminders, Jen popping into situations and saying, "Hi!", or sometimes even scolding me.

Why do I continue to be drawn towards stories or movies or songs of sadness? Is that the only emotion that I think that I have left to feel? I'm tired of feeling that weight, yet I continue down a path of emotional torment and destruction. Do I feel guilty for feeling happiness? Am I trying to feel other emotions and the only thing that I can muster is sadness? I started re-watching "13 Reasons Why" after my daughter heard the song "The Night We Met" on my playlist and asked, "Depressed much?" I had no idea what she was talking about. She mentioned that it was from the show and I couldn't remember it in there. As I continued to watch the show, it all seemed fresh, like I had never watched it the first time around. When the song came up in the first season, it hit me hard. When it started playing in the second season (which I was less prepared for), I was a blubbering mess. As I watch the series this second time, it was different. I was watching, searching, for a roadmap forward that would help me navigate my feelings. As if I could get guidance from Clay on how to proceed forward, through the loss, even though the death of Hannah and of Jen were very different, the shocking and abrupt loss was similar. Sadly, it did not satisfy those curiosities and no solution was obtained.

I am left with torment and loneliness. Silly, self-inflicted. I feel abandoned by Jen, but at my own doing. And no clear path towards resolution. I ask for her to return, but why? Wouldn't this continue my torture? Did she leave because I hurt her with my statements that I was done and over it? Or does she think that this is best for me? Is it? I am slowly descending into madness, asking for a ghost or spirit or angel to return. One that I told to go away...but I miss it. I miss her!

Why? I have a great family! Some good friends. What is missing that I need? A connection? Or some sort of an answer (and to what question)? So tired...of hurting. Of aching. Of being stuck.

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Meeting the Family

The meet-up happened!  

Of course, it went even better than I expected.  Intellectually, I knew it would.  Emotionally, I was shaking in my boots.  Jennifer’s sister has always been incredibly open, warm, encouraging, and welcoming.  There was no reason to expect any different.  However, I did start to experience Dallas’ devious (in a fun way) nature.  She mentioned that she had invited her Mom to the meet-up, and had let me know.  Honestly, that made me nervous.  As I mentioned in the last entry, I had not had direct interactions with her…ever.  Not sure how to adequately describe the nervousness.  It was not fear, I didn’t think she was going to yell at me or anything like that.  Perhaps it was the 30+ years of hard-wiring in my head to not cause harm, hurt, or emotional distress on Jen’s parents; they had their child stolen away and I can not imagine a greater hurt.  We enter the cemetery and navigate towards the area where Jennifer is.  There are 3 cars and 5 ladies waiting for us!  Her sister invited her aunts too!  Another car with an aunt and uncle rolls up as we are exiting our vehicle.  A half-circle of family forms around me, with my daughter abandoning me off to the side.  A video call was added to include another aunt!  A round of “Hi”s and introductions and then straight to the meat of the discussion…Who are you and how did you know Jennifer?  They want the details!  Wow!  Stress…

In all fairness, they were extremely nice and welcoming, even from the start.  Dallas (Jennifer’s Sister) confessed that she could sense my nervousness, so she just omitted the fact (playfully and deviously) that all of the family was coming.  Was probably a smart move on her part!  As the story unfolds, due to the ages of all of the aunts (being younger sisters of Jen’s Mom), they were like big sisters to Jennifer and had a tight connection.  After the accident, they stepped in and were active in helping raising Jennifer’s two (much) younger sisters.  They were very ingrained into the family, before and after.  Through the three hours we ultimately spent together, you could tell that they were closer than what I would describe as a typical Aunt-Niece relationship.

I start off with how we met, and how the relationship formed.  The endless hours on the phone together (their memories begin the endless agreements of recollection) and the dynamic of how our relationship was a connection of just us, the single point of connection of our social circles.  The phone leads to memories of other items in her room, the Hard Rock Teddy Bear that I had given her comes up.  I offer the back story of this item, how it was the only souvenir that I had returned from New York City with.  The desire, even deterministic expectation, that she would become the first woman president.  Inside, I start to feel relief.  A long-standing question in my mind, was this a far-flung whimsy that was only shared with me, or something that she believed, even was working towards?  Confirmation that this was discussed with everyone else elevates it from flight of fancy to a key mechanism in who she was.  It also starts the confirmation process in my mind that I did actual know her.  Silly, perhaps, but after this many years of only telling stories to people that had not met her, my own mind has beaten me up with the possibility that I did not even know the Real Jennifer.

I mention that the forcefulness of some of her demands still compel me not to participate in certain activities.  They demand to know more, what activities?  It gets tricky.  These are people that I have just met.  People that are held in high regard in my eyes.  I do not want to let them down, but I also do not want to dive into more deviant and illegal activities, for fear of judgement.  I try to dodge, but ultimately am coerced into spilling the beans.  LSD.  Jen was adamant that I never take acid.  She had mentioned some stories about it staying in your system and causing permanent craziness.  I thought that it was horseshit, but at the time, she was so forceful, so insistent, that I did not press the issue too far or too long.  They all started nodding in agreement and understanding, she had a cousin that this did in fact happen to, so the fear she had was very much close to their family.  New (more complete) information.  More stories are exchanged.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I bring up the encounter with the medium.  Figure that if I haven’t shocked them with the LSD story, then anything is fair game.  They are surprisingly onboard.  I tell of the shifts in thinking that the medium had suggested, that I might need to forgive Jennifer for walking across the Rainbow Bridge, and that meeting my wife so shortly after was a gift from Jennifer.  They seemed to understand the forgiveness angle (and had likely had to travel that path themselves).  They all liked, and latched on to, the idea of the gift.  I filled in details surrounding meeting my wife and how my thoughts of it happening because of the accident had caused serious conflict within me.  The idea of a gift was ratified.

As we move through the various stories and comparing notes, I get to the single date that we had.  WHAT?!?  These ladies we are new to me, so I wasn’t quite sure on the facial expressions and body language, but there seemed to be some shock (and perhaps delight from her sister).  Later texts with Dallas seemed to confirm my read of the situation.  Apparently, Jennifer never told her parents she was going on a date.  Out with friends perhaps, or whatever else a teenager can conjure up to get out of the house with minimal parental resistance.  I do seem to recall that when I arrived that Jennifer bolted out the house door and into the vehicle.  I didn’t think anything of it at the time, why would I?  She was in my car and I was happy with that.  So, as I let this story unfold, I see her Mom’s face, a combination of confusion, wonder, and shock.  As I look around, Dallas seems almost giddy.  This is the first sign of ‘non-typical’ emotion for this kind of meeting.  I hurry through, brain still hard-wired to do no harm.  Follow-up texts with Dallas, that were about other specifics, and she confirms that her parents had no idea that Jen was going on a date, and Dallas was somewhat happy that her sister was able to pull off some ‘standard’ teenage rebellion tactics and enjoy some of the rights of passage that teens navigate.  More stories are bounced back and forth.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I had stopped at the grocery store on the way and purchased a few roses, a white one that I had given her Mother upon meeting, a yellow one, given to Dallas upon arrival, and a red one for Jen’s tombstone.  All through these stories, the red one is my shield.  I am waving it around as an extension of my arm when talking and grasping it with both hands when listening, its thorns pricking me as a reminder to place it.  I suggest it is time to place the rose and we all begin to move towards the grave.  It is a location that I could pinpoint on a map, point to from 30,000 feet above, but as I turn to go there, I am lost, wandering.  Dallas points me in the right direction.  The mass of people divides into two groups, one with me, one with my daughter.  I can only imagine that they are peppering her with questions to understand me, or our family better.

Aunt Patty is the main person around me.  We talk through a multitude of stories, some off topic (of Jen specifically), but still therapeutic.  We stumble back to the medium and belief in their abilities to connect.  She talks about ‘gifts’ left behind by those that walk the Rainbow Bridge (my term).  I share the thought that Jen leaves dimes for me to find in some of the most random locations.  It feels like she is saying “Hi”, or sometimes scolding me even.  Whenever I find one on the ground somewhere, I stop to pick it up and reply back “Hi Jen”.

Aunt Patty mentions that she spends no time at the grave-sites of those she has lost, until today.  It is just too hard.  Yet we are close to three hours in.  She mentions that this meeting has been very therapeutic, even cleansing.  I feel happy that I could help get her to this point.  The two groups regather as one as she is saying goodbyes.  Somehow we get on the topic of talking about doing things and then never getting around to actually doing them.  This sparks the memories of talking about skydiving with Jennifer.  Some of the family had gone skydiving.  I share stories about how Jennifer and I would talk at length about jumping.  We were locked in, we were going to go after she turned 18 and didn’t need the parental waiver, or just a general rule of the diving school for no one under 18.  That these were plans that never had the opportunity to be completed.  That life happens after we make grand plans.  And that I did jump twice, one for each of us.

The sun is going down (are we going to be locked in the cemetery?).  We say our goodbyes and leave.  My daughter and I still have about an hour drive to Kansas City for our hotel.  After we exit the Turnpike, our hotel is on a street off to the left.  I miss the turn.  Looking down the road a little, I see a QuikTrip.  Good!  I can stop there and get a soda for the night and then we can turn around to get on the correct side road.  Walking out of the QuikTrip, there is a dime on the ground…Yeah, it was a good meetup, Jen.

In the days/weeks following the get together, I am surprised how my thoughts and feelings are seeming to shift.  If I start to think about Jennifer now, sure, there is still some sadness that she is not alive, but it is no longer the soul-crushing grief that it used to be.  There is a growing acceptance, even smiles at the good memories and the reaffirmation that I knew her.  Who would have guessed that, even after 30+ years, meeting with her family was ultimately what I would have needed to get over it.  I feel silly at the simplicity…

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Upcoming - Meeting Jennifer's Family…Very Nervous

So fast forward to mid-2020.  Dreams with Jennifer still occur, at an approximate monthly rate.  The emotional impact is not as debilitating as in previous months.  There is still this nagging notion that there is a message that needs to be transferred.  Still don't know what the message is or if I am delivering or receiving the message, just that there is a message.  Then it happens that I have an excuse to go through Topeka, to possibly meet Jennifer’s sister.  In our last conversations, she mentioned that if I ever came through town to give her a shout.

Backstory – ‘Therapy’ Generates New Perspectives

A couple months ago, I went for a massage.  My back had been hurting and I needed more than just the pills.  The masseuse also happened to be a medium (able to talk to spirits).  Conversation bounced around a little and then Jennifer came up.  The medium gave me a couple of interesting nuggets to chew upon.

At first the topic of forgiveness came up.  I am thinking, “Yes, I have heard this all before.”  But I didn’t feel the need for forgiveness…I didn’t cause the accident, I wasn’t there, couldn’t have done something different to prevent it…I am not asking for forgiveness.  The medium, innocently, asked, “What about forgiving her for the accident?”  WOW!  Such a simple shift of perspective.  So simple, but it has eluded me for so long.  Definitely an angle that needs exploration but has the potential to be very liberating.  I am working through this currently.  How to forgive in general, how to forgive someone that is no longer here, how to forgive such a big event.

The next nugget was the medium saying that meeting Tammy (my wife, we met very shortly after Jen’s accident) was a gift from Jennifer.  Again, mind blown.  I have spent years almost feeling guilty that Tammy, my family, and all the good and joy from family would have never happened without the accident.  Feeling guilty that the accident had to occur for all the beginning events in my family to fall into place.  That I am benefiting from enormous joy and good fortune from such a horrific event.  This simple shift in thinking explains (and better) that there is no need to feel guilty.  As a gift from Jennifer, it feels like she is reaching out to take care of me and make sure I can navigate life fully.  A life altering gift that can never be repaid.

Backstory – Reason for the Trip

My daughter has turned 16, driver’s license time, and purchasing a car.  She knows that I used to race (mostly autocross) and tend towards the extreme speed side of the equation on the highways.  It has her interest piqued.  She desires to know how to drive, yes, but even more the speed bug is surfacing.  She wants to race, or at least autocross.  She is excited at the notion of rebuilding my race car and get it back on the track.  I think that she envisions herself in that driver’s seat too, despite having purchased a sports car herself.  She has just the right amount of crazy in her personality to get to the razor’s edge.  I have noticed early enough to bang into her head the mantra that speed, racing, ‘craziness’ in a car is fine in CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENTS…the track, with safety equipment, like minded drivers that are more predictable (less likely to brake check you out of mindless spite, etc.), room for mistakes, and have limited participants.  I have started looking for drivers’ events to get her experience and training in car control at the extreme limits.  Typically focused towards younger drivers and teaching what messing up feels like but in an environment that allows those mistakes to happen and what to do to correct the situations.  I have explained these events as prerequisite courses to the actual autocross classes that will follow.

Setting Up the Meeting

A spot in one of these prerequisite classes opens up in Kansas City.  We will be going right past Topeka, so why not stop for a quick grave site visit?  I text Jen’s sister, letting her know that we will be stopping by, did she want to meet up for a quick visit?  She seems enthusiastic about the opportunity.  She invites her Mom!  So nervous!

Not afraid, just nervous.  My mind has been hard wired (and maybe incorrectly) for so long to 'Do No Harm' in regards to this family (from a position of respect and reverence), and if I even thought something could cause pain then don't do it, combined with my embarrassment of handling it incorrectly in just about every way.  I admit, it is strange that someone connected to Jen, but basically unknown to the family, would come out of the shadows so many years later.  Jennifer’s sister has been very welcoming in our conversations over the past couple years, but my interactions with the rest of the family have still been very closed off.  Scared and embarrassed by the way I handled it, and for so long.  Meeting ‘Mom’ just feels like I am going to have to deal with, explain, all of the mistakes and the ways I reacted.  My actions (or inactions, as it were) were made with intentions of good or at least to minimize emotional hurt.  It is just that they were not necessarily the right actions, very isolating, and missed the target of healing.

So, meeting the family tomorrow…all evidence from previous conversations suggest that this will be a wonderful adventure.  Perhaps even healing.  So why am I so nervous?  Am I (purposefully) picking at the scab of a wound that just will not heal?  Sometimes I think that the concept of phantom limb pain explains it well.  It hurts, but I don't want to take pills to make the pain to away.  The limb is gone, but there is such a desire for it to be present that even a sensation of pain where the missing limb is supposed to be is welcomed, wanted.  Tomorrow will tell.

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