Transitions

My friend Kim’s father died this week. The family had just moved this vibrant, feisty man from Florida to Indiana to be nearby. He was settled and happy in a new home after an Olympics-like summer of logisitic management. 

When I got the text that he died, I cried disproportionately. I didn’t know him well, but I know how much my friend loves him. I sobbed for more time for them. It felt unfair that the transition time did not pay off, as if getting everything in order should have an ROI of cherished memories in a new place.

I expect transitions to be liminal space between now and something better. There should be a law about this. Better should come. Instead, better is often evasive.

I like travel time - anticipating, preparing, navigating. I like trains and planes because I know where I am where I am supposed to be - butt in seat . . . on the way.    

My assumptions about transitions are not founded in reality. The more I think I know, the more I learn that I don’t know. And that is truth.  

I read Kim’s text and thought, What? After all that family did to help that feisty, vibrant old Irishman get settled, he died. I assumed he would get to be a grandpa from a new chair with his two daughters within driving distance.  

Ending might just be the ultimate destination of transition.

Thank God stories don’t end. Yet they are full of transitions.  

The end of August. The beaches are empty of children, the floaties packed away til next year. Toddlers rule the playgrounds, and young moms race walk after dropping kids off in chaotic car lines.  

Back to school. After more than twenty years in academia, I’ve replaced classroom prep with workshop facilitation which starts up again next week. 

Labor Day provides a three-day transition into the sense of a new season.  

Kim’s loss makes me wonder how many Septembers I have left. Note: I am not morbid, but I know my Septembers are limited. I’ve lost two dear friends, Maria and Lissa, and my mom and Tim’s mom in the last three years. All four women were amazing champions of living a generous life - in spirit and talent and resources. They are not around this September, except in my heart.

I look at September 2024 as one to cherish, a month of more listening, learning, noticing, sharing and loving - through presence. 

Last night, I dreamt that the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences went to a long conference and put me in charge. I asked, “Why me? Why not Lissa?” Then I remembered Lissa’s passing. Sadness overwhelmed me in the dream until I envisioned her energy and resilience. I turned to a colleague and said, “I think Jon wants me to be in charge of the Exploratory Program.” 

I awakened with a purpose - to explore! To be with others in a safe space of unconditional positive regard where we can discover, connect, transition and grow - sometimes together, sometimes apart, but always in a safe place. Nonjudgment is the clearest lens for discovery and growth.  

This week, in my Writing the Good Life class, the teacher invited us to pay attention to synchronicity in our lives, and it smacked me this morning. 

While I was writing, my son Brendan sent this photo from Central Park in New York:

May autumn bring many opportunities for time in the Rustic Overlook.