It has been a year. It really has been. I can't remember a time when it seemed like everything piles on. Somehow, I've remained sober. Somehow, I'm managing to write and keep it together as best I can. I think the reason is because I do have great people around me. My husband - he is everything. He drives me nuts:) But man, he is truly extraordinary. Just an extraordinary human being. My sons, my closets friends, my niece Jocelyn (more like my sister) my counselor:) I don't know what I'd do without all of you.
Today was particularly hard. People who know me know that if I started getting into detail about why, I'll never stop talking. It really was hard. In speaking with a close friend of mine today, I think I've realized what trauma has been inflicted upon me from childhood until now.
I never really felt accepted as a child. There were times when I felt loved, but I didn't feel accepted. I'm not quite sure if you can love if you don't accept someone, especially a child, but I always felt different. Even when things weren't my fault, I felt like they were. Even when it wasn't my place to fix things, I felt responsible enough to feel as if I needed to fix it. For some reason though, it never really felt fixed. And now I know why.
I didn't break it. And if I didn't break it, I certainly don't know how to fix it all by myself. It also isn't my responsibility to fix something I didn't break.
That is what has transferred into my adult life. The feeling that somehow things I didn't break need to be addressed and fixed by me.
There is a very important lesson I learned from my brother when he was dying of Colon Cancer, in relation to this. The need to fix things always comes down to me feeling displaced by people. I learned a very important lesson from him that I really need to share.
My brother Darrin was extraordinary. He smiled and was happy a lot, despite so many reasons not to be, including the fact that he was diagnosed with Colon Cancer at such a young age. He passed away at the age of 45, and I have to tell you, on the colon cancer walk this month, seeing his picture brought such happiness to me. I felt a warmth and sense of "everything is going to be okay" more than I have ever felt in my life. That is when the process began of me really weighing what matters. What REALLY matters.
My brother worked 4 jobs, and he was loved at those jobs. He put up with a lot and he was stressed a lot. He made a good amount of money, but I know if given a second chance, her would most likely work a lot less. He came to visit about a month before passing and I gave him a hug - but man, if I had not been focusing on other stuff, I sure would have hugged him a lot longer.
When I found out from my mom that my brother only had about 2 days to live, I was singing in a band at the time. I took my son with me to two of the gigs I had - one in Milwaukee, and one in upper Michigan. From the Michigan gig, I drove to Minnesota, trying to get to my brother so that I could say goodbye to him, or hello to him, or hang on...whatever came to mind, I just wanted to see him.
When I finally made it to the hospital, my mother, his wife, and my two sisters were in the room with him. My brother Darrin was terrified. He knew what was happening, but he was trying so hard to make himself believe it wasn't happening,. He would get up and try to put his clothes on so he could leave and make it so it wasn't true that he was dying. It was horrible to watch. Seeing my mother hold him...as a parent...I still don't know how she did that. I don't know.
After talking to him and hugging him, he passed away 2 hours later. The week of his death would bring so much overwhelming sadness to me, it was hard to fathom.
I had a job interview when I got back to Milwaukee, and I was exhausted. In my interview, the executives asked me what was the most important thing that I would feel would have to be addressed as an Executive Assistant. I sat there for a minute, and I just thought about my brother in that helpless state. And my mother cradling him as he very calmly snuggled into her arms and she held him. I told the executives "People. People would be my top priority."" When they asked me what I meant by that, I said to them.....
My brother passed away from cancer a few days ago. He was only 45 years old. He had so many plans and so many things that he wanted to do.
He focused a lot of his energy on work, and on pleasing executives because it was important to him to impress upon them how much of a hard worker he was. Yet, when I was in that room with my brother on his last day of life, the only people there were me, my mom, his wife, and 2 of my sisters. Those executives weren't there. I was told that very few people from his jobs came to visit him.
So in the end - I said - it's the people that matter and what I would spend the most time addressing. It''s making a difference. It's focusing on the bigger picture. It's focusing on the true purpose behind the work that we do. The job is a conduit to something so much bigger. The job isn't the destination. We are so focused on retirement, because we believe we'll be here to enjoy it, rather than focusing on today, the moment, making a difference in others lives. Doing the right thing as much as possible. As an Executive Assistant, I will focus on people, and people will automatically give back.
I didn't get the job.
But I got my brother. And I've been thinking about that all week. In the end, these jobs are not gonna matter one bit. My retirement will matter, but not that much. My stuff, my things, don't matter to me now, so they'll definitely not matter later.
But what does matter is people. Using what is in front of me as a catapult to helping people. THAT is what my legacy will be. That is what this is about. Sometimes, I may be standing by myself doing it. Sometimes, I might piss people off doing it. Sometimes, I may lose friendships (that were most likely not friendships to begin with). Sometimes, folks will scatter and say they don't know you.
But in the end, one person who was impacted and changed their life for the better will say that had I not be there, they would have gone another way, just like how it happened to me. THAT Is what I learned from my brother. That is what I take with me every single day. My husband is still here; my sons love the hell outta me; my sisters is still here; my friends, through everything, are still here.
This year, as I stated, has been reallly rough.
But I'll tell you what, I have lived this year with honesty.
I have lived this year with integrity.
I have lived this year with truth.
I have lived this year with contemplation.
I have lived this year helping others.
I have lived this year not staying silent.
I have lived this year laughing.
I have lived this year crying.
I have lived believing.
I have lived with disappointment.
I have lived with triumph.
I have lived working hard.
I have lived making changes for the better.
I have lived honoring the legacies of those who talk to me every day, leading me down a better path.
I have lived knowing myself fully, good and bad.
I have lived sober.
I have lived loving. Even when I haven't been.
I have lived.
I learned from my brother to focus on those 10 people you think will be there when it really matters. Not just during the moment that happened to Darrin...but when it really matters, who shows up. Who is there...and are you really focusing your energies on those people?
Yes...yes I am.
Thank you Darrin. I miss you and love you so much.
Thank you:)
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