Catching Up

I’ve been gone for a minute. I needed Summer to regroup and repair my soul a bit. I thought I was coping well enough with my mom’s passing and with the car accident my daughter had that seriously injured my husband. In retrospect that might have been a little wishful thinking. It was a lot, all in a very short time span. I probably didn’t process either of those events very well at the time.

I miss my mom. Holy heck do I miss her. We often battled and she was a tough cookie, but I know she loved me fiercely and always had my best interests in mind, even when we disagreed over what those best interests actually were.

I have been at my (usually) happy place since mid July. In my entire life I have probably never been here for more than a week or two without one or both of my parents. Their absence has left me reeling. I have such amazing memories here with them. I’m trying to rely on those to carry me through. It helps, certainly, but the grief still comes in hard, powerful waves at unexpected times. Even the smell of the beach can bring me to tears if I don’t brace myself. I really feel a bit adrift without both of them. Not lost, just… unmoored. Like I’m trying to find where I belong now that I’m untethered from them. I’m a 53 year old orphan. That’s tough to get my head around.

I’ve had another major life change too. Handsome had to retire from his job due to his injuries from the car accident with my daughter. (I am so lucky and grateful that no one was killed. It was that bad, and easily could have been much worse.) His retirement has me losing sleep for multiple reasons. First, losing an entire salary two years before our eldest heads off to college wasn’t in the fiscal game plan. Not even close. Second, although he has been really wonderful for multiple years at this point, I do worry about him getting bored and spiraling.

Let me explain. I have a dear friend married to a lovely man. He has multiple degrees from Ivy League schools and, before he met my friend, he had an amazing work history. He gave up his last (to die for) job to move to a small Midwest city to be with my friend and he simply fell out of the job market. He went on dozens and dozens of interviews and nothing materialized. (He was often told that he was over-qualified and/or that they couldn’t pay him what he was worth – even when he was ready to take any offer.) After literally years of rejection, they decided he would stay home and she would work outside the home. Cool. I have no issue with that. But if you spend a few hours with this couple you see the mental and verbal gymnastics my friend does to make her husband feel valued and important. We all like to feel valued and important but I don’t have the bandwidth to pump someone’s ego up every day. I can’t fake not knowing how to do something so he can jump in and save the day. I need to be able to make decisions for certain things on my own without prior consultation. (Not big things, but small stuff… what doormat to buy or what flowers to plant, etc.) Most importantly, he can’t wield a credit card like a light saber when I’m the one actually paying the bill. I’ll be certifiably miserable if I have to deal with this with Handsome. I recognize that may be uncharitable and bitchy but I know myself. Valuing his contributions to the household and showing legitimate appreciation is one thing, but having I would seriously resent having to coddle him.

Fortunately, Handsome has been running his tush off shuttling children, running errands, and overseeing major construction on our home (that we contracted and paid for before the accident). He literally hasn’t had time to be bored or feel unimportant. I’m not sure how long that will continue. He has been sober since DDay, and has given me no reason (in several years) to be wary. But recovering addicts are still addicts. It would be cocky to think otherwise. I don’t know if he can find fulfillment in being a stay-at-home dad or if the absence of adrenaline rushes from work will take a toll. (His therapist jokingly told him to teach kids to drive if he’s desperate for a rush.)

These are both “new normals” that are going to take some adjustment. I’m game, but I’m also exhausted from the weight of these things on my shoulders. I know I’m still grieving. And I’ve always been okay being the primary breadwinner but being the sole breadwinner is a unique kind of pressure. It’s no one’s fault. My mom fought valiantly to stay alive and Handsome didn’t cause the car accident and had no intention of giving up his career. Things just happen. Life happens and it isn’t always filled with sunshine. I get it, but I’m already wishing 2023 out the door and hoping 2024 will bring more peace and perhaps some joy.

A Day of Remembrance

I find myself thinking about 9/11 a lot. Perhaps more than you might expect. I was actually booked to fly that day on a 3:20 flight from Pennsylvania to Massachusetts via JFK. Needless to say, the flight was cancelled. When I finally flew out -I think it was on 9/14 – the trip was notable both because there was virtually no air traffic, and the sight of lower Manhattan without the twin towers was incredibly disconcerting. If I’m honest, I still haven’t gotten used to it. It’s like my brain struggles to process the fact that they are no longer there.

Years before 9/11 I bought my first piece of pottery from an artist named Mikael Carstanjen. Far from being high-brow, the pieces were functional and they reminded me of my summers in New England. I loved seeing Mikael at craft or pottery shows and I added a piece or two regularly to my set.

On 9/11, Mikael’s son, Christoffer Mikael Carstanjen, was on United Airlines flight 175, bound for LA from Boston. He died at 9:03 AM, along with 50 other passengers and 9 crew members, when the five terrorists on board crashed the plane into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. Christoffer is number 383 on the official list of 9/11 victims.

Christoffer’s dad, Mikael, stopped making his pottery shortly after 9/11. He closed his studio and stopped attending shows. I still value and treasure the pieces I have. About a year ago I was walking through an art exhibition in Provincetown, Massachusetts and a painting caught my eye. It was beautiful and I was thrilled to see that Mikael was the artist. He is still creating art. His grief did not take that from him. There is a lesson there in resilience that we can all use.

Hug someone you love today. Remember that none of us are guaranteed another day. Let us all never forget those lost on 9/11 and those they left behind. ❤️🕊🕊🕊❤️