A Kind Word Sparks Reflection

Cancer, by the author

Some one asked me how I was doing TODAY. She was asking about my grieving process.  My respose: I am in recovery. And exploring my new normal. Realizing some things about myself that are really beautiful. Parts of me feel more free. Parts of me feel very hurt. But I am growing toward wholeness, that I feel. I am not whole, may never be whole-- I may never fully recover from the loss of my parents, my father in particular--but the fact that I am hopeful of its possibility keeps me looking towards the light instead of  being mired in darkness.

I am back at university, teaching voice, vocal pedagogy, and music in world cultures. One of the larger archs is music and healing (rituals) from around the world. It's a big course load, but it is good for me to feel validated by my work. I am continuing my healing through my work.  I am also grateful I am good at what I do. 


Back now from a 15 month sabbatical, it feels like I work all the time, now. All day, with students, prepping, teaching; then come home, work on lectures, trying to get ahead so that I can memorize this recital program I have coming up in a few weeks.  This gig isn't nearly as memorized as it needs to be. But I am in a place of acceptance, honestly. 

Back in the classroom

I have programmed yoga classes into my day, twice a week, with time even for lunch with my husband. (I continue my other classes on weekends.) I conclude my teaching day by 4 most days, and leave the building. I speak more softly. I feel more gentle, as if I'm holding my heart in my hands like a baby bird.    


I'm talking with strangers as myself, not as someone they may expect me to be. 

My dad and my husband, on our "once in a lifetime" family cruise.

Why did it take the loss of my father to help me move in this direction?  DID it take his death to do this, or is it just coincidence? I die inside thinking my spirit might have been held back by my dad, my parents. I don't want to believe this, or even contemplate it. That is too great a price to ask of anyone on either end of the equation. 


Last night, I finally took a few things out of my bedroom, things of my father's: his monogrammed notepaper. Simple and dignified. We'll use it in our kitchen for notes.   I took a particular picture, snapped many years ago, and put it in a frame I bought (waiting for the right time). It has a quote underneath:


"They that love beyond the world
cannot be separated by it.

In his beloved Mustang!

Death is but crossing the world, 
as friends do the seas;
they live on in one another still."
~William Penn


I still cannot look at his picture without tearing up. That he is gone still mystifies me.  The WHY of it never to be answered. The things I've wanted to share with him, the questions about classroom management I know he could answer. The validation that being structured and demanding toward raising student's standards is a worthy goal.

Christmas, 2007 with the family

The mail in his name has slowed down; our financial planner is now talking to me about what to do with MY money. 


And I have a lecture to prepare for a student convocation on Friday: "How to Maximize Your Time for Effective Learning"~how I'd love to run this by my dad in advance. Legacy? Yes. It is unfolding as I am unfolding from the fetal position I've been in for months.




So, thank you, my friend, for the caring and loving question of how I'm doing TODAY.