Work

I spoke to my sister on the phone today, the one who's teenage daughter is going through a serious rebellious phase. Yesterday, I stopped by my friend's house on my way back from the gym to see how she is doing. Her father has just been diagnosed with cancer and is staying at her house while he sees some experts at Stanford Hospital. A week ago I called to check on another friend whose husband just dropped dead from a heart attack two weeks ago at the age of 63. My dad was thrilled to hear me wish him a Happy St. Patrick's Day on the 17th, even though it was almost 11 pm at night. I try to see my friend Judy on a somewhat regular basis, who moved from the suburbs to San Francisco two years ago and is still recovering from the back surgery she had performed last summer.

I am trying....to be a good friend, a good sister, a good daughter. And yet, it plagues me that I have lost some friends along the way. Some I have lost to attrition - we just don't have time for each other anymore in our lives, we move on, we find new interests or make new friends better suited to us. But some friends I have lost to what one friend likes to refer to as "a falling out". An argument, a fight, a difference of opinion, a misunderstanding, or an issue of trust. I know I am not the only one who has "lost" friends over time, but it bothers me none-the less.

When I was a kid growing up, the friends I had in elementary school were not the same friends I ended up with in high school. Something happens when you are growing up; your interests change, your personalities change. You wonder how you were ever friends with this idioit or that jerk in the first place. Perhaps growing up is not the only time one feels this way.

I have lost two good friends over the past two years. Both men. One took his whole extended family with him. I am angry at him for what I perceive is his cowardice to hash out our different perspectives in person. I am angry that he would just rather walk away from our long standing friendship. But I cannot really do anything about it.

The second friend I have lost is my most recent my ex-boyfriend. Granted, "ex-es" are tough to keep on as friends in the first place. But I try anyway. I try because there is usually a good reason that I was attracted to that person in the first place. I have a great relationship with my ex-husband. I have in the past remained good friends with other men I have dated (some, but not all). So I have tried to salvage a similar relationship with this particular ex-boyfriend. But, our "friendship" is not working out as well as I had hoped.

And so, I leave this post with a question: Should I just walk away from trying to make our friendship work out with my ex? It certainly would be easier to walk away than trying to make it "work". At what point do you say, its just not worth the effort? Perhaps in asking that question, I have found my answer.

Marriage is hard work. Friendship shouldn't be.

Perspective

A year ago I had just moved back to California from the frigid cold of the East Coast. A year ago I was picking sweet tangy oranges from my good friend Tim's tree. A year ago I had no job and felt I had lost my career.

Now I commute an hour each way to a job that's just a job. Someone else is living in my good friend Tim' s house and I don't even know if the oranges are ripe.

A year ago I had just moved into a shared housing arrangement in San Jose, and was thinking of painting my bedroom a different color. Today, I am thinking about moving out and getting my own place, so I don't have to deal with the cat hair on the stairs and the dirty dishes on the kitchen counter.

A year ago, I wanted to live in California as long as I possibly could. Today, I am missing spending time with my 85 year old dad and wondering how much longer he will be with us in good health. Today I am thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live back East for a while.

What a difference a year can make. And who knows how I will feel about things a year from now.

The Bucket List

I watched the movie "The Bucket List" the other night. For anyone who has not seen the movie or heard of the concept, the "Bucket List" is a list you compile of things you want to do before you die (or "kick the bucket"). After they get out of the hospital, the two main characters in the film, who both have terminal cancer and who have become friends while hospital roommates, set out to accomplish the things on their combined list, together.

But the Bucket List concept is not what "stuck" with me after seeing the movie.

At one point early in the film, the every-workingman Morgan Freeman character is trying to explain a certain concept to the arrogant-and-rich Jack Nicholson character. He relays the following story. After you die, when you arrive at the Pearly Gates and your fate is being determined by Saint Peter, whether or not you are admitted to Heaven depends on your answer to two questions. Jack Nicholson says, "OK, I'll bite. What are the two questions?" Morgan Freeman says "Question One: Did you find joy in your life?" Nicholson smiles a big, broad smile and slowly nods yes. "Question Number Two: Did you bring joy to others?"

Whether or not we believe in the Pearly Gates concept or not, towards the end of our lives, if we are fortunate enough to have the time and the mental capacity to reflect on our lives, we may ask ourselves if we lived a good life, if we did all we set out to accomplish, or if we had any serious regrets. Instead, I think I will ask myself those two simple questions. And I hope I can nod "yes" to both of them with a broad smile on my face.

MY Friends

Within the last two years, two friends in my age bracket (one a few years older, one a few years younger) have dropped dead of heart attacks. Both men. When the first one died, I thought "anomaly". Now, I'm not so sure.

Does this mean I am entering the age when I routinely check the obituaries in the newspaper each morning? By this I mean SERIOUSLY checking the paper with the expectation of seeing the names of MY friends in MY age bracket listed therein. You know, like my dad does.

My dad is 85. When I call him on the phone (not often enough, I'm sure), he is very likely to ask "Oh, did you know so-and-so? Didn't you go to school with one of his/her kids? Well, he/she just died."

My dad has been doing this for years. I just didn't expect to be following in his footsteps quite so soon.

Now What?

The funeral and memorial services are over, family members and friends have flown home...yet you still cannot believe that your teenage son won't coming lumbering in the front door any minute, a sly grin on his face. The sympathy cards are piled up, still unread...your son's favorite jacket still hangs over his bedroom chair, but his bed has not been slept in in over a week. Every night when you go to sleep you hope that when you wake in the morning, you will find its all just a bad dream...but every morning you wake up and the nightmare that your life has become still continues. Sleep is a double edged sword....you dream that your child is still alive, and the story of his death is just a big joke...but then you wake up and you find that he is still gone.

Your mind cannot fully grasp that your child is truly gone from your earthly life....

And the heavy pain in the middle of your chest is never ending....the physical manifestation of the grief in your heart....that serves as a constant reminder...as if you could forget for an instant...

Oscar

I'm not referring to the hot dog, or the Grouch. I am talking about THE Oscars. The awards are happening tonight, and like every year, I'm not watching. You know, the red carpet welcome, the Hollywood stars strutting their best (dresses) and their borrowed (jewelry), lame jokes from the hosts, one long (yawn) celebratory event revolving around movies I've never seen and actors I've never heard of.

This year, while the statuettes are handed out, I find myself watching a movie that just happened to be showing on TNT - "Saving Private Ryan". While I am generally not a fan of movies with a lot of violence, I love this movie. Its a movie I insisted my 16 year old video-gaming son watch when it first came out in the theater so he would understand that the reality of war is far different from the wars portrayed in video games.

"Private Ryan" is a movie about a subject no one ever wants to live through. It a movie about war at its ugliest, war up close and personal. No one is spared in this film. Even the leading man ends up dying. Its the only movie I ever saw my dad, a World War II veteran, tear up while watching.

It won five of those little statuettes in 1998.

Gavin and Matt

For the past week, I have not been able to get Gavin and Matt out of my mind. Type "Gavin and Matt" on Google and a dozen news stories pop up. Their names made local headline news. But the headlines were not the type any parent wants to see.

Gavin and Matt died while rafting down a local rain-swollen bay area creek last Saturday. They were seventeen years old, teenagers out to have some fun on a rainy afternoon, unaware of the hidden dangers that lay ahead. Its a story that touched the hearts of many people, people who didn't personally know the two boys, myself included.

Their friends posted tributes to the boys on Facebook, including a couple of videos of Gavin that just made me laugh, and reminded me of my own son at at that age. So creative, so funny, so full of life, so unaware that anything bad could possibly happen to them.

When your kids are toddlers, parents have to constantly watch that they don't wander into the street, or fall into a pool. When they become teenagers, you have to gradually let go, and let them make their own decisions. Sometimes they make good decisions and sometimes they make decisions that have less than optimal outcomes. Regardless, most of our children survive to adulthood.

A few are just not as lucky.