The five “action” points in Mike’s following blog post are at once provocative and so chewy they’re almost grisly… but in a good way. Lots to ponder in each point, but one I kept being drawn back to was an insight the Australian Buddhist seemed to casually ponder as an afterthought:
There is work for me to do around grief and trauma and Dad and Mum but it has to lead me to think more broadly about the consequences of relationships of all types. Sometimes we never get to say goodbye.
A significant part of my own healing was being called home to care for my 90-year-old cancer-ridden father for several weeks before he died back in 2007. Even though much of the profound turmoil between us ended well before Joy and I moved far away from them back in 1989, I had always carried the unspoken burden of unspoken, unresolved issues going back to my teens.
As you have likely guessed, Dad died without my having the long-sought luxury of leveling the playing field I imagined we had been on all those years. It was 1:30 a.m. in the middle of a warm San Diego September night. I was drinking yet another beer, holding his hand while patiently sitting next to the hospice bed he had been inhabiting for weeks on end. And he just… quietly slipped away. With a very tranquil look on his face. I sat there for 10 minutes still holding his hand, looking at him resting peacefully, and finally said, “Well, Dad. That is so like you to beat last call.”
It was on the flight back to Indy that God nudged me to let me know my healing was in caring for my father; my healing was in feeding and bathing and cleaning up after him, keeping him comfortable and simply being present to him. It was God’s place to level my anticipated playing field. That became a much more profound truth for me in 2010 when I sobered up in A.A.
Anyway, read the second of three installments from dharmaholic. The first one is here.
Today I celebrate 19 years of being married to Emma. Over those we had many adventures that have taken us literally across the world. Over that period too we both changed our careers, lived into new possibilities, all with the mutual support of each other. The “sickness and health” aspect of our wedding vows seems to loom […]
via Our 19th Wedding Anniversary — Process Not An Event
Special thanks to Indianapolis blogger Christopher M Turner for this thought-provoking fable from Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation: The Fox and the Stork.
One evening the fox invited his friend the stork to dinner. For a joke, the fox prepared soup and served it in a shallow dish. The fox could easily lap up the soup. But the stork, with its long bill, went hungry. The fox gave the stork a sly grin and said, “I am so sorry. It seems as if the soup is not to your liking.”
“There is no need to apologize,” the stork replied. “I would like to repay your hospitality and invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”
The next evening, the stork served the fox a meal in a long-necked jar with a narrow mouth. The stork could easily reach into the jar and eat, but the fox could not and went hungry. “I will not apologize for the dinner,” the stork said. “because one bad turn deserves another.” After that, the fox and the stork were no longer friends.
The Moral of the story: Revenge may be sweet, but the damage it does cannot be repaired.
No matter how wronged you may feel by the words or actions of another, remember that revenge, retaliation, and harboring resentment serve no useful purpose.
I will let go of past resentments and consider no one to be my enemy.
You are reading from the book:
by Amy E. Dean © 2011 Hazelden Foundation
via Nov. 29, 2018 – Readings in Recovery: Today’s Gift from Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation — My life and other sordid tales
Amazing post from Running on Sober dealing with a journey back home:
Most of the sticky notes are phone numbers. Doctors? Clients? Friends? I want to call each number to see who answers. “Did you know my mother? What did you talk about? Did she seem happy? Please, tell me. I am trying not to forget her.”