October Happenings

It’s been nearly two weeks since I posted a blog, quite the change from September. But you’ve missed these, right? Ha. My September goal was to write something each day and take a long break from my novel. These last few weeks have also been quite hectic. I’m not the biggest fan of posting a blog that is more like a “dear diary” entry, but a lot has happened in a few weeks, so I am going to ramble a little.

The last weekend of September I saw one of my best friends get married and reconnected with old friends. That was a beautiful and fun weekend.

At a great friend's wedding. Congrats, Rachel!

I also spent a weekend getting trained in a new fitness program called KettleWorX, choreographed kettle bell routines to music. I am proud to say that I am a fully certified “pass plus” KettleWorX trainer now!

This is my third fitness cert and definitely one of the
hardest to pass. I'm also a certified P90X trainer and
Turbo Kick instructor. 

I spent a weekend night at my favorite haunted house, where (and I don’t mean to make fun) a friend with a heart condition had to be escorted out because it was all too much. That’s not something to laugh at, but damn if I don’t love that kind of intensity when it comes to horror. FrightNight in Forest City did not disappoint this year. (We made sure he was ok. And then the rest of us continued while he sadly sat outside.)

Can you guess who had to sit out? Everyone is ok now!

I saw a fantastic musical at Illinois Central College called Avenue Q that starred a former student who is now a friend and was directed by my boss at the college. I cannot believe the talent of all of our students. So incredible. And if you’ve never seen Avenue Q but have a chance to do so, don’t miss out. It’s hilarious and naughty but has a good deal of heart in between the obnoxious humor.

Most tragically, the son of one of my best friends died. I am happy to have spent some time with her and am happy (happy is not exactly the right word, but you understand) to have been able to go to the visitation and the funeral and see her beautiful family. All of that is her story to tell, and I don’t feel right writing more about it. I just want her to know that it is something we all will never forget, and somehow over time, all will be stronger and closer.

Then I managed to dress us as Hulk Hogan and give my college students a laugh. In one class, the students tried to sneak out cell phones and discreetly take pictures of me. I don’t know why they felt the need to be discreet. I was happy to pose for them! (By the way, I didn’t dress up randomly as Hulk; it was part of an 80s theme day at the college. Not that there’d be anything wrong with that if I did, right?)

My Comm 110 class, several students also dressed 80s
style. That's me front and center. WHATCHA GONNA DO!

And then today is my father’s birthday. My dad passed away four years ago this December. I’ve been using that Timehop app for Facebook. Most of the time, it’s pretty fun. You get to see the silly status or pictures you uploaded on this day for each year in the past that you had Facebook. But recently Timehop has been very sad. I’m seeing all the old status updates I posted about my dad to keep friends and family in touch. Today I saw a post about spending time with him on his birthday. It was the last time I would ever be able to see him on his birthday.

He was basically paralyzed in October of 2010. On October 10, 2010, I visited him in his nursing home. There was no gift to buy; there was nothing he could do anymore. ALS had melted his nervous system, and he just asked me to scratch his face and his arms. He still itched and felt uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about it. Isn’t that just terrible? Every time I stopped for a moment to rest, he’d cry, “Please don’t stop.” I spent the day talking to him and scratching him. It is probably the saddest yet most rewarding birthday I ever spent with him. And the last.

Today we had a midterm break, one day off from the college. So I devoted my day to revising the novel I wrote this past summer. It’s been over a month since I looked at it. What a much needed break that was! Today, fully refreshed, I started re-writing. It has a new title, more development of characters, a brand new prologue, and a new sense of direction. The meat of the story is still all there, but I’ve cut a lot of the fat out of the story and added some much needed seasoning. Of course, this process is going to take several weeks, but I’m hoping to have one day a week to spend with the story, and I have a new goal of having a full revision completed by January 1.

I envy those who can write a perfect story the first or even second time around. This will be my third major revision, but the first one after such a long break from the book. I’m very excited about what it is becoming.

And of course, all of the influences and happenings that occurred this month: You’ll see that they have made some kind of impact on the story. I’m not saying Hulk Hogan is a character, but there is nostalgia and a love of past heroes. And there is death and tragedy, but also escape and hope.

Thanks for being with me on this journey, friends. 

To a Dear Friend, With Love

This post is dedicated to a dear friend.

We are a part of nature. We know that as a part of nature, we live and we will someday die. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less sad, however. It’s a way of trying to be logical with our minds, but when it comes to death, it’s our hearts that are torn apart, and no logic or reasoning can sooth the pain of a broken heart.

It’s particularly tragic when someone far too young passes away. We view our lives with a series of milestones, and it’s deeply sad to know the many years of joy someone will never know. We cannot beat ourselves up on what we could have done. We must mourn and grieve, cry and yell. But we also must remember and celebrate life, take care of those around us, celebrate the years someone had, even if they were far too short.

I know a good mother. When talking to her about visiting a troubled son, she once told me, “I’m going to hug him and kick his ass. But probably not in that order.” She loved him no matter his mistakes, like a good mother. She did everything in her power to discipline and help him, like a good mother. She was always there for him. I hope you know that. We always have a thought that we could have done more. But you did everything you could. Everything.

It is not right for the old to bury the young. It is not right for a parent to bury a child. It is not right and it is not fair, and I can think of nothing worse in life.

My dad passed away at too young of an age. Only in his early 60s, he should have had many golden years to live and laugh. I had to see him die slowly, moving from hospital to hospital, from nursing home to nursing home, with no brothers or sisters to help, as I was an only child. When he passed, my family knew it was also a blessing because he was in so much pain. But still I suffered and cried. I remember trying to go to bed that first night, but I began sobbing uncontrollably. It hit me like the flu, powerful and terrible and uncontrollable. I moved from the bed to the bathroom, where I sobbed by the toilet. I will never forget that night, as I have never experienced such painful sorrow.

But even with that: I knew it was coming. I knew he would pass, and I guess you could say I was blessed that I had months to prepare for it. I cannot imagine the shock of losing a loved one, especially a young and healthy loved one. No preparation. No chance to say a final good-bye. It’s the epitome of tragedy. What does one do?

I don’t know. I’m not an expert and I have not experienced that. Cry. Cry a lot. Never be ashamed of tears or emotions. Cuss. Cuss a lot. Never be ashamed of the power of words. Pray. Pray a lot. Search for a deeper meaning. When those stages pass (and really they never do—I will be doing fine for months, and a memory of my father hits me like a bee sting out of nowhere and those emotions come back all over again), I think we have to learn and celebrate. Cherish the stories and the photos. Do something in his memory. Find a purpose to fulfill the emptiness. Celebrate the years he lived and all the times he helped others and made someone smile.

Who isn’t terrified of death? Who doesn’t absolutely dread the day we must deal with the loss of a loved one? We will have those days, and if you are fortunate to have many loved ones, then you may experience many such days over a lifetime.

I’ve always thought that you can’t fight emotion with logic. We will think that we could have done more, we will be terribly sad, we will hate the world that caused this, and we will cry. Telling yourself it’s not your fault is logical, but it doesn’t help. The only way I know how to fight emotions is to be emotional. Let the tears flow. But find ways to smile and laugh. Find positive emotions to fight the negative, and live your life. Your life is every bit as special too, and we cannot forget to live while mourning the death of a loved one.

This all may be garbage, who knows. But when I want to reflect, I take to pen or paper (or a keyboard).

Dear friend. I am here for you. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. Please know that there are many people who love you, people who will help you stand tall when you feel weak.

All my love,

Joe

P.S. I know you’ve probably seen this before. I’m not shy in sharing it. I read it at my dad’s memorial, and it holds deep meaning for me. This is an excerpt from Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays With Morrie.

“I heard a nice little story the other day,” Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.

“Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He’s enjoying the wind and the fresh air — until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore."

“‘My God, this is terrible,’ the wave says ‘Look what’s going to happen to me!’”

“Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, ‘Why do you look so sad?’"

“The first wave says, ‘You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?’"

“The second wave says, ‘No, you don’t understand. You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.’"

I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.

“Part of the ocean,” he says. “Part of the ocean.” I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.