Rogue Waves

Rogue Waves

children, grief, memories, moving forward, Photograph by Ken Gehle

I have a Sunfish sailboat in my basement. I have no clue how to sail it and the trailer for it is long gone anyway having rusted through behind the garage. It seems a shame for it to just sit but it’s the one belonging of my late husband’s that my kids are adamant that we must not shed. I can picture him leaving the shore time after time while the kids, too little to go with him, and I waited on the shore for his return. They have that same picture in their heads I imagine. He always came back before.   This grief is a bit like pushing that sailboat into the ocean from the shore. At first the breakers pound you relentlessly and you fear they are going to push you to the bottom. Then after a while you get beyond them. There are still swells and the occasional breaker but you’re sailing now. You feel the adrenaline rush of your leave-taking begin to subside. There is calm in the sailing, even peace, though the need to change direction offers new challenges. Obstacles crop up that need to be circumnavigated. You maneuver. You jibe. You avoid the shifting boom in the wind. Peace returns but let’s be real, it’s not as secure as standing back on the shore. You find that you are steady in the wind again when – wham! – a rogue wave swamps the boat. It’s frightening. You fear you may not live through it. Soon you realize that you are not going to sink but you wonder if you really know what you’re...
:O)

:O)

children, clown, grace, grief, loss, openness, suffering, why

How can it be that even clowns die? Our community lost a dear soul this week suddenly, without warning. We are shocked beyond measure, devastated. Vincenzo Tortorici was many things: loving father, larger-than-life personality, accomplished juggler, master of ceremonies, vaudevillian, puppeteer, Buddha scooter jockey and introspective wise old soul. A clown and actor by trade, he made the lives of children a little brighter during their stays at the local children’s hospital. Dr. Pucci was a miracle worker who knew how to set nurse traps with toilet paper, catch invisible balls in paper bags and make children forget where they were for a little while. I love to laugh and I make my attempts at humor, often funny only because of their feeble nature. I am not a natural; he was, sparkling eyes and all.  I honestly can’t recall a single encounter with Vince where I did not laugh. We have boys the same age but as they have gotten older their interests have diverged. My interactions with Vince have been reduced to chance encounters in the grocery store or the YMCA. Social media has allowed me to stay in touch, laughing at his musings and putting in a comment or two. Even in the way he wrote you could hear his humor reflected. That’s a skill! Vince signed his posts with a clown face.  :o)  Of course he would. More than a humorist though, Vince could meditate profoundly over deep questions of spirituality, the root of creativity and on suffering. With his loss we suffer. The void is great. We ask ourselves: Why? How do we hold this...
Grief In the Good Times

Grief In the Good Times

children, college, grief, letting go, parenting, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Pinterest

My oldest child goes off to college tomorrow. She’s ready. It’s time. I’m ready. It’s right. Then why is this stupid tear crawling down my face?! The shopping is done, the gear organized and after some girl time getting mani/pedi’s this afternoon we will start loading the car. Whoa…it’s getting real now. I spent the morning taking care of some last minute paperwork and making sure any final fees are paid, printing receipts. When my girl was little she would have what her dad and I called, “Teeny-tiny-temper-tantrums.” They were not so teeny really. Well, I just had one when the printer was not forthcoming with my receipts. One should not get so bent out of shape over an empty paper tray. I suspect grief. This next step in her life is a good thing. I know that. But this is also an ending and we’ve had our share of those over the last few years. To be fair, we’ve had new beginnings too, some very good ones. This is one.   “Every end is a new beginning.”  ~ Proverb I’m also struggling with the idea that this is not happening the way that it “should.” Her dad should be here. He had an absurdly long reach. How are we going to get things into the cabinet above her closet? He won’t be there to capture the events of the day with his camera. I will try but I tend to forget to take pictures when I get caught up in the moment. There is one shot I would make sure to get though, him kissing her head before we...
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