Looking Toward 2012: My Perspective

Well, in less that 19 hours, our time zone will be crossing over into the year 2012. My wife and I will be ringing in the new year with a few friends. Our children will be doing the same with a few of their own. In some ways, it seems like we can't possibly be on this threshold already. And, in other ways, I'm really glad to see this year go in the books. It seems that the older I get, the harder it is to keep making the transition from year to year.

I read an online post by another friend a few days ago that said 2011 was a hard year. I couldn't agree more. That same friend and I, along with possibly hundreds of others, will be saying goodbye to another old, mutual friend later today. She was one of many this year who left this world far too soon. I think losing so many friends this year - in particular - made 2011 so hard.

I've written a lot about losing my dad this year. Writing about things I've experienced has always been a sort of therapy for me over the years. Thanks to Facebook, I've been able to bring my therapy to a wider audience (that was intended as a joke). In recent years, I've been too busy to write about what I've had on my mind. I'm not sure whether it has been about having enough time or being unable to get everything in order to write it. Over this Christmas Break, I've had time to go back and read a few things I wrote - back when I had time to write a lot. It's funny actually. I thought I had a grasp on things back then. Those times were really different.

The truth is I don't think anything could have prepared me (us) for what 2011 would bring. In my case, I had tried before to prepare myself for what I would do if something were to happen to my dad, for instance. I didn't have any idea what that would look like. I had been over it a few times in my head. I had even talked with my dad, about his wishes and the things he wanted. I'm often told that people make plans for stuff ahead of time so they don't have to "wing it" when "it" hits the proverbial fan (or something like that). I couldn't agree more - especially now. In my life, I need people who can plan things around me because I can't see ahead of me past my own nose. My wife is one of those people. She makes a plan and works it. I often go with her plan because I don't have one. When the time came and Dad died, composure went out the window. If not for the people around me, who were walking through that with me, I honestly don't think I could have made it.

I think we all learned something in 2011. For me, I learned about being present in the now (as my wife often says). I need to be loving and involved with those I love the most now. I can't expect to get back to someone or something later. They could be gone without a moment's notice. I may not get it right, but I'm going to work at it through this coming year.

So, with that, at midnight tonight, wherever I am, I will sing the words of that old song. I hope you get the opportunity, too:

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?

CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

So many things changed in 2011. It's almost like 2012 will be a different world. It will be for a lot of people. So many things seem to hang in the balance in the coming year. 2012 is important for a lot of reasons. It's almost like we need a break so we can get ready for it. But, nonetheless...here it comes. (It's almost 2012 in Australia.) Happy New Year, everyone!

All Grown Up Overnight

I started this blog entry a few days after Dad's funeral. For whatever reason I didn't finish it then. But, reading it again now, it's probably as complete at it needs to be.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's funny how certain things in this life call a person out to grow up and take responsibility. Around my folks and my brother and sister, I've always felt like I was still a kid - even after I've married and have a family. The past couple of years have forced me out of that kind of thinking - especially the events of the week.

When we first talked to Mom and Dad about moving from Malakoff, TX to Conroe, I was thinking about caring for my parents and ensuring that they were not alone for as long as we possibly could. My biggest fear used to be getting a phone call from someone who would tell me that one of my parents had suddenly died. Having them in an apartment off our patio would be a very good thing, for us and them, because we would all be in close proximity. No more long trips back and forth to their house. We'd all be in one place - together. It didn't take long before the new wore off and I realized that our roles had changed. I was becoming more of a caretaker and my parents needed to be cared for. This became so obvious to us toward the end of 2011 when both Mom and Dad both broke a hip and had to endure extensive rehabilitation to just be able to walk. I wasn't quite prepared for that, but somehow we survived. It had been bearable because we were all together.

Since they've been here, we've had to take away the car keys from my mother. Talk about awkward! For crying out loud - I remember when I was threatened with losing my privileges to drive, for coming home late - one too many times. We realized that taking away driving privileges from them meant that we had to pick up the responsibility to take Mom and Dad wherever they needed to go. I obviously didn't think about that, either, but it was what we needed to do.

The past several days have been about accepting responsibility and growing up for me. Family members have died in our family before. Someone else took care of the details. This time, it was my responsibility. That responsibility came with a lot of things. For starters, I've been coming to grips with my own mortality and that of my family - especially Mom and Dad.

I've never been with someone as they died. I've lost friends who died prematurely, but I wasn't there when it happened. I've lost family members who were close to me, but again, I wasn't there. Now, I've watched plenty of movies where this character or that character died. I've heard the debate about how TV violence makes a person insensitive to real violence and I've often wondered, if what they say is true, if I would know the difference. There was no question for me last Tuesday evening. At the moment of truth, I knew what was happening and was terrified.

I'm proud that I can say I was there when Haynes passed from this life to the next. But, I was scared and out of my mind during those moments. At first I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive to the hospital and hitting Haynes in the chest with my fist, hoping that I could do something to help him. Then, I realized that I was completely helpless. Jessie was trying to keep him from falling forward in the seat while I zigged and zagged toward the Emergency Room. It seemed like an eternity before we arrived at our destination. I drove up to the ER entrance like a madman. Jumped out and ran around the car to get Dad out. I know now that when I pulled him out of the car, he was already a lifeless shell. With the help of kind bystander, we got Dad out of the car and into his wheelchair and rushed him inside. The ER techs went right to work and did the best they could, but it was too late.

I never really stopped to think about what happened when someone died at a hospital, much less anywhere else before Tuesday night. As far as I knew, someone else had taken care of that. But, this wasn't someone or somewhere else. This is where we were. Some 16 years before, Dad told me, before undergoing a routine medical procedure, that if something happened to him that I needed to take care of my mother. That's what a man did. But, now there was a dilemma. Dad had a custom that he would not view the body of the deceased. I never really talked to him about it, but I figured that he wanted to remember that friend or relative as they were when they were alive and not dead. I started observing this custom myself after Dad's brother, Herbert, passed away in 1990. He was my hero as a boy. He was a giant to me and had a personality that was larger than life. Dad wanted to remember him as he had known him growing up. I wanted to remember him as I had as a young man. With a very few exceptions, I have kept this custom since. So how do I reconcile that and fulfill my responsibilities to both my mother and dad? I realized I couldn't and sucked it up. It took a few minutes to adjust to what was happening, but eventually it wasn't as hard to do as I thought. I like to think that God gave me the strength to be there with my mother and my Dad's remains.

My dad's body was in a curtain-partitioned room in the ER, lying on a gurney. I want to think now that I became a man in that moment. But, I know I didn't do it alone. Mom and Dad's pastor, Lloyd Maddoux, was there with us. Soon, my friends, Raymond and Bobby McDonald and Frank Jackson were there,  along with me and my mom. They stayed to the bitter end, when the mortician arrived to pick up Dad's body to take to a local funeral home for the night.

The mortician gave us a final few moments to spend with Dad's body before he would be taken away. Frank asked to pray with Mom and I. After a short, sweet prayer, he started singing the little chorus "surely the presence of the Lord is in this place" with us. It seemed that in that moment all the fear, anxiety, sorrow and concern we'd felt for Dad just melted away. God met us there and had been with us the entire time. We had been where we needed to be, as uncomfortable a place as it had been and it was now a sanctuary, as holy as any church that had ever been built.

More importantly, when my mother and I drove away from the hospital in the wee hours of the next morning, I was no longer a boy in my own mind. I had grown into being a man.

Remembering September 11th

I remember what I was doing 10 years ago when I first heard about the September 11th attacks. I was at work listening to the radio at my desk, when I heard a news announcement "there's a report of a plane flying into one of the World Trade Center towers." The guy said something about how a plane once flew into the Empire State Building during World War II so no one should be alarmed. But, within a few minutes the guy said "wait a second, there's another report of another plane..." I got up and went to our conference room and turned on the TV. They were already showing the first video released of a plane hitting one of the towers. A few minutes later the video of the second plane hitting the other tower started running. I went to get my boss and other co-workers to show them what I was watching. The rest of the day is a blur now.

As I look back, I like to think about the news of heroic feats that were the work of ordinary Americans. The actions of those in local offices and positions of government: police officers, firefighters and regular citizens risked their lives to save the lives of others. These stories were rays of hope amid hour after hour of bad news. The truth is that government failed all of us that day. Ordinary  Americans made the difference. Remember them this weekend.