Tag: loss

Entertaining Angels Unaware


This is perhaps a different twist on the scripture passage Mike Mather offered for my grandmother’s funeral, as I shared her gift of hospitality….to anyone, but particularly to those emigrating from Poland. She had spent years teaching emigrants English and US Citizenship under Rooselvelt’s administration.  (Hear her story firsthand  from her 95th birthday party!)

A natural extension of her work there was to open her home, with Pop-pop, to house, feed and nurture the body and soul of Polish people, given her fluency in her parents’ native tongue and her proud heritage. (Hear her talk about what it was like growing up in Philadelphia as a first generation Polish-American, including recounting the Lord’s Prayer in Polish.)

This week, within days of Mee-maw (Blanche) passing to the other side of the curtain, a friend found her first penny from Blanche.

Last night, I was watching Les Miserables with some dear friends, and felt my mom and Mee-maw’s presence. I bought one brooch for me (two masks/theater motif), one butterfly to match my mom’s silk jacket I wear and my tattoo…and wanted one more for Blanche.  (Well, for me to remember their life, love and legacy….)

I ended up buying an amethyst-colored brooch (one of her favorite stones) when L. (behind the counter at the gift shop) gave me three options…but as she pointed to one, she said accidentally…Blanche, instead of whatever word would have been normally to follow.  Wow….

L. had no way of knowing my grandmother’s Americanized version of her first name, Blanche…for Bronislaw. And I know Blanche was pointing for L., because L. shared later that she had lost her 45 year old daughter this year…to a heart attack. My 71 year old mom died in January…of a heart attack.Blanche's Brooch

If we listen to the Spirits or Angels or whatever term is comfortable for you…I believe they talk to us. Some in pennies, some through others, some in signs.

Our Angels want us to know that they are ok…and that we can grieve, but move on and live life to the fullest. They are smiling down, dancing and laughing with us.

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Transparency and my ego – a conflict of interest?


Lately, I’ve been more aware of my character defect of self-sufficiency. One of the way this manifests itself is I try to get through my tough times alone. I don’t reach out for help or support during my struggles. I’m much more inclined to share with you AFTER I’ve “made it through” and tell you what I’ve learned. But, to share where I’m at, to be transparent about what’s really going on at the time, to take off the mask and let you see my pain when I’m in the middle of it, is not one of natural reactions.

This, I’ve known for awhile. I’ve become more aware of it recently as I’ve been through some dark times. So, I’ve also been trying to share more – in the midst of my challenges.

But, I recently realized how clear of a role my ego plays in this inability to be honest – with myself and with others. In some of my regular 12-step meetings, I’ve found myself being hesitant to share what I’m going through. But this week, I ventured out to a new meeting, just to try something different. As I sat waiting for the meeting to start, I realized I didn’t know anyone in the room. As I reflected on what I might want to share about my week, as part of my increased transparency, I realized something was missing from my gut.  No fear.  No shame.  No concern of what people might think.  No “reputation” to protect.

No ego.  No conflict of interest.

I understood this in theory on one level – but it really struck me that evening as I sat there, how much my ego plays into my ability to be honest, transparent.  I worry about what people will think of me – how how I might be judged. And the sad irony is, I’m more willing to open up with total strangers, than I am with those who know me, who are close to me.  Very sad.

Part of this is human nature.  Part of this is my addictive nature.  Part of this comes from years of keeping others at a distance.  Part of this comes from years of anonymous online chatting.  I understand all of that.

Yet I know I’m robbing myself of so much. I know I can’t do this on my own. I know I need others.  I also know people don’t think about me as much as I think they do.

So hopefully, the next time I hesitate to share in one of my regular meetings, or with friends and family outside of the rooms of recovery — hopefully, I’ll move past my ego, drop the mask, and share what’s really going on at the time, even without the answer or solution.  Who knows what I might gain…  And just for today, I know that I’m losing when I don’t.

Moving on…


I was able to set these past three days aside to explore some loss in my life. Indeed, these past months have been a time of learning — learning to feel, to grieve, to accept. But, these past weeks have been particularly intense as I explored some deep pain from my past. I also started a process of taking my inventory of fears and resentments as part of a recovery workshop I’m in. For a man who has spent most of his life learning to numb and avoid feelings, this is all very much outside of my comfort zone. But, with the help of the rooms, and friends in recovery, and my devotional time, I’m living through the feelings — and coming out on the other side alive.

I took some time these past days to meditate, to read, to walk outside, to take pictures, to travel. I started an art project for a poster I want to create for Indianapolis. It felt good to connect with my passion from days gone by. Photography, like travel, is in my family’s blood. My grandfather had more camera bodies and lenses than he knew what to do with. And, he shared his love of photography with his children and his grandchildren. So, to find myself walking along the new cultural trail here in town, taking pictures of my surroundings was exciting. My senses were more aware of everything around me. My eye searched out the right composition, or the right moment, or the right perspective to capture what lay before me “on film.”  What fun!
I also tried to reflect on what I learned from my friend Scott who passed away on Friday. He took a brave step few have the courage to ever do — to leave the security of an established corporate career to follow his passion. He became a certified, independent life coach. He fulfilled his dream before and during his treatment with several “students” or “coachees.” He was my life coach at a difficult part of my own transformation and recovery. He shared tools to help me develop a more principle-based pattern of living. He listened to my struggles in early recovery and shared his own spiritual experiences. For the short time I knew him, I was changed.  For that I am grateful.
Scott returned from California just a few short weeks ago. He had gone there, hoping to get an intense stem-cell based bone marrow transplant to attack the cancer. But, the cancer had spread too quickly and too deeply for them to get very far in the treatment. They modified his treatment strategy to one of quality of life. When he returned to Indiana, I understand that he sat down and wrote out a bucket list. Of course, he had already realized his dream of life coaching – but there were other things he still wanted to do in this life.  Sadly, the cancer didn’t afford him much if any success on his bucket list.
I share this because his life coaching and his bucket list have been on my heart during these recent weeks. Do I have dreams I’ve shelved, or passions I’ve failed to follow? Do I have a subconscious list of things I still want to experience in this life?  I hesitate to say accomplish because I’ve learned that it’s not what I do that matters in the end – it’s who I am – how I choose to live my life – the principles by which I strive, with the grace of my Higher Power, to live each day. But, with or without an illness, is there value in having a bucket list of my own?  I think so.  What about a set of principles that I can point to and use as a guide?  Definitely. These are two of the many gifts and lessons I’m taking away from my friend, Scott.  Thank you.
In closing, I realize that while a time of mourning is healthy, particularly for this addict, it’s also healthy to move on. That’s not to say I’m done grieving. But, I’ve paused to grieve…not just Scott’s passing, but the losses I’ve connected with from my past. Several weeks ago, I had even made my Facebook photo black. It raised many questions from friends of course, so I explained:
Working through some grieving, loss, mourning. So it’s a small reminder to myself to remain open to feeling the pain of my loss(es) so I can find healing and move on…
But, it’s time to restore my picture, shift my mind and meditations away from the intense focus on grieving…and just allow what comes to unfold.
It’s time to move on…
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