Pride

Here we go again with the Pride and Joy tears. I am proud of that boy.

Before his first birthday

At his last birthday 

Nuke on Nuke's terms

Shed a tear after a dream about Adam. The details aren't important but I took the message as I was trying to "fix" him which was well-meaning but misplaced. The tear came from knowing I don't have a chance in this life to make things right. Accepting him on his terms and getting through the muck to get there. I think we had a good start, and we could have gotten there in time.

The dream last week of hugging him, that was pure not wanting to let go.

*Nuke is Pat's nickname for Adam. When he was three his favorite movie was Bull Durham.

It's finally here

If you are following my blog, you may recognize where this is going.

I had been thinking about a tattoo to honor Adam for quite a long time (1-2-3 years?). I thought about a dragon (born in 1988, year of the dragon), a crown (King Tut, his favorite drink, part of the tattoo he had across his chest), or something he wrote.

When I saw his friend Ashleigh's tattoo "Long Live the King" on the inside of her left arm, close to her heart, I knew that was the location, and I started looking for something he wrote. I also puzzled over where to go and when.

The most popular tattoo artist in town books months in advance, and I wasn't sure once I decided I wanted to wait that long. I heard one shop had all female artists, but they never seemed to be open. I was drawn to a place called Nomad Tattoo for some unknown reason.

A week after my dad's death I found the notes my dad had scribbled for Adam's memorial service, including the title of a poem Ave Etque Vale, Hail and Farewell. When I googled the poem, yeah, I thought that was so fitting. I had previously dug up Mother's Day cards from Adam, but it didn't seem quite right to put "Happy Mother's Day" on my arm. Finally I decided to combine my dad's quote and Adam's handwriting Love, Adam. 

Next was where to go. On March 6, my mom, Betsy and I attended a play at the local community theater. One of the actors' biographies listed him as the owner/tattoo artist at Nomad. I enjoyed his performance, he supported the theater by buying an ad, so I stopped in the next day and made an appointment for March 14.

Sam wasn't as personable as I hoped, but I'm happy with the results. Let me know what you think. Or not.

Normal-ish

I've been tossing ideas for this blog post around since the Coronavirus amped up on March 11, 2020. Cal deems this time in our history "3-11" and I agree, 3/11/20 was a turning point. He remembers it as the day the NBA suspended play, and I remember it as...damn, I can't remember.* I think it was the day universities started extending Spring Break. That's when I started taking this seriously. That was a Wednesday. The bricks began falling out of the wall rapidly.

By Monday, we were living in a different world. Schools, restaurants, events and gatherings of any kind cancelled, followed by gyms and workplaces. Temperature checks and tents being set up outside my place of work (a hospital). Vague press conferences saying "We've got this under control. We're prepared." Prepared for what?? Are we in a bad movie? To say surreal barely cuts it.

Initially, I thought this was another example of the 'wimping of America.' I compared it to the gratuitous closing of schools for any weather event that felt uncomfortable. It felt like anyone acting normal was being accused of being unsafe or putting others at risk.  I was going to make a joke about North Dakota being the most desirable place to live; only 1 COVID-19 case, and plenty of natural social distancing.

I thought about 9-11 and Y2K and this began to feel much bigger. When my mom said her grandchildren better not visit, I knew it was serious.

That brings me to today, 3/20/20. March seems like the longest month ever; time has slowed to a crawl. The two weeks of school closure beginning March 16 is half over, but everyone expects the rest of the school year is going to be home based.

My kids who are involved in education have gathered here at home, and I must say this is an unexpected delight. When was the last time we could just hang out indefinitely?! The weather was perfect for cocktail hour on the deck last evening (hello Diet Pepsi). Lots of laughter and love, but no hugging or touching.

And so we wait for the next news event to direct our life and activities. Some moments feel normal, some most definitely do not. Stay safe out there, as if you haven't heard that enough lately.

*Upon reading People magazine 3/27/20, I was reminded March 11 was the day Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they had the virus in Australia.

Happy

Twice in recent weeks I had clients direct me to watch the PBS documentary Happy. Well, not really direct me, but I do often feed off suggestions and ideas of my clients, which is a wonderful benefit of the work I do. I had heard of it before, and honestly, the word Happy just kind throws up a resistant wall for me, so it took three times of hearing about the movie for me to finally take action.

I have long had a hard time relating to the word "happy" or notion of "happiness" as some kind of squad goal. To me happiness is a fleeting emotion I experience occasionally which fades all too quickly. I don't see it as a sustainable state of mind, nor would I really want to. Part of the beauty and spice of life is experiencing a myriad of emotions: heartbreak, disappointment, sadness, excitement, unease, delight.

In counseling when I ask clients what they want to get out of counseling they often say they want to be happy. I always ask them to define this, as it seems to me such a dubious concept. My own definition of happiness would be something like a life filled with love, laughter, peace, and contentment.

So, my goal for today is to finish the documentary, come back, and close this blog with some kind of new wisdom.

It took a few days, but I finally finished the movie and have had time to digest it and come back here. I took notes but unfortunately I left them at work to discuss with my clients. Here's my takeaway for what it's worth:

Research fellows presented a pie, where 50% of happiness is genetic, 10% circumstances and 40% things within our control such as exercise, human connection, nature, helping others, mindfulness, and experiencing flow.

Flow is doing something just because you love to, those times where you lose track of time because you are so into whatever you are doing.

Mindful Moment: A leafless tree against the most exquisite blue sky this morning at 6:51 a.m.

Flow: Reading a book and soaking the characters, stories and lessons into the fiber of my soul.

Joy is a beautiful word and apropos this time of year. I like joy much more than happiness.  C.S. Lewis puts it this way:

"Real joy seems to me almost as unlike security or prosperity as it is unlike agony.  It jumps under one’s ribs and tickles down one’s back and makes one forget meals and keeps one (delightedly) sleepless o’ nights. It shocks one awake when the other puts one to sleep. My private table is one second of joy is worth 12 hours of Pleasure. "

I don't have Adam here for Christmas, but I have love. Sometimes I experience joy.  Life is good. Choose life.

Note: Apparently I wrote this 12/15/16. I found it in my documents and think it still applies. 

Ave etque Vale

I never talked to my dad about this. I wish I had.

After Dad died, my mom gave us kids a box of mementos to go through and keep what we wanted. I found a small spiral notebook with two pages written in his hand, the rest blank. I immediately identified his notes as what he spoke at Adam's memorial. He had seven little points written down and after that, the words Ave etque Vale. Though he spelled it differently, when I looked up the translation, it was obviously the poem above, translated as Hail and Farewell. 

I do not remember if he quoted the whole poem at Adam's service, but suffice it say, as Betsy noted at Dad's celebration of life, he always, always, had the right words for any occasion.

Note: Catullus 101 is an elegiac poem written by the Roman poet Gaius Valerius Catullus.