A lesson from author Tom Zumba. I hope you’ll never need it:
“There is nothing
nothing
easy about this thing called grief.
Nothing.
But I ask you to please
please
please
say yes
more often than you say no.
Say yes to you.
To possibility.
To hope.
To love.
To life.
To healing.
Please choose the light
more often than you choose the darkness.
Not that there aren't gifts in the darkness.
There are.
But it's often so much easier to find them
the gifts
in the light.
Do all you can to stay in the light.
Please remember that the person you love
so
so
so dearly
lived.
Don't forget that.
He lived.
She lived.
Here with you.
And your relationship continues.
Always.
Don't be so overwhelmed
and paralyzed
and pissed off
that he died
that she died
that you spend most of your time
focusing on their death.
Focus on your life.
Together.
Say yes as often as you can.
Choose light as often as you can.
Remember that he lived as often as you can.
Don't lose her in the details of her death.
This thing called grief is hard
hard
hard work.
But you are stronger than you think.
His book is called Permission to Mourn
We feel best when we create. No amount of food, video games or any self-destructive habits will fill that hole. So why fight it?!? Create something, even if it’s as small as a little sketch or poem. Grow a garden, bake a cake. Start a business! Whatever your beautiful heart desires.
You don’t have to be friends with people you don’t like. But you can’t decide you don’t like someone unless you get to know them. (Rather than a look or a reputation or a difference, etc.)
Be teachable.
If you walk around thinking you know it all, your career and relationships will suffer.
Consider how much you have to learn and welcome any opportunity to learn.
“Teach me” instead of “I don’t know.”
Long before I was old enough to decide what I wanted my life to be about, I was set on a path of other’s choosing: marriage, kids, Catholic. I took that assignment to heart. Focused like a laser beam. Ironically, I believe that it’s because marriage and a conventional family was my prime directive that I ended up becoming roadkill on that path. My point is twofold: don’t let me or anyone else tell you what your life should look like. Maybe college isn’t for you, maybe marriage isn’t something that appeals to you, maybe it is! Keep exploring until you find a direction that fits your own values and priorities. As long as you’re paying your bills and you’re not hurting anyone including yourself, knock yourself out! Go wild! Do whatever feels right. And if you don’t know where you want to be, go where you’re needed to start with. I love you forever no matter what you do.
Avoid commenting on the number of children someone has (or doesn’t have.) Its none of your business to ask why a couple doesn’t have kids or remark if they announce they’re pregnant with their 7th (other than to say “Congratulations.”)
Remember this: “It’s not always about you.” It’s a natural tendency to take things personally- someone’s bad mood, or not paying attention to you, or not calling, etc. But most times when we see people acting shy/aloof/crabby or mean - it has nothing to do with us and everything to do with them, and what they’re experiencing.
Try (a) not to take things personally and (b) to have compassion for people, who are all going through something.
We all want to be liked. But consider what you’re willing to *not* be liked for: If things like kindness and loyalty and being genuinely yourself *cost* you friends, is that a bad thing? Were they really friends then? Try not to do or say anything simply out of a desire to be liked.
This Coda is my creation. It’s what I wanted to accomplish as a parent. What you do with it is entirely up to you. I hope you never feel like you have to do the same. Make your own way. Make yourself proud. If you’re happy, I’m happy.
Never make someone feel bad for liking something. Not your kids, your friends or colleagues. Joy is a beautiful thing. Cherish it in yourself and in others.
“You don’t emerge from $@!#% empty-handed” a friend once told me. Even the worst periods of your life will bring gifts. Be thankful for those gifts, and enjoy them.
Your mother and I would never want you to sacrifice the wellbeing of your own family for us. They should always be your priority. In the years ahead, make the choices that affirm that.
Stage one relationship: first few dates. Stage two, you really like them. Stage three, you love them and are exclusive. Stage four: you commit to building a future together. You’re going to have many stage one and two relationships. Probably a few stage three, and if you’re lucky you’ll have one or two stage fours.
Offer gifts to the Lord. Maybe it's your school work, or your career, or the kid you raise, or your life in general. Wrap it up and make it a present to the Lord.