The Kindness Continuum

It’s a month into 2019. My birthday falls at the end of January in the dead of winter. Here in Michigan it is predicted that the high temperature for that day will be -5, the coldest of the year so far. More snow and frigid temperatures are predicted, and schools and government offices are closing down for the next couple of days.

As I sit looking out my window watching the birds flutter around my feeders and the squirrels scavenging for fallen seeds, I can’t help but think about where I was a year ago. Last year on my birthday Jay couldn’t get out of bed. Although we didn’t know it at the time, he would be gone in less than two weeks. Our attempt at a birthday celebration fell pretty flat, although we did our best and Conrad’s flaming Baked Alaska was memorable. But the cloud of Jay’s persistent and all-too-obvious slide away from the tangible world hung over us as we tried to put an upbeat face on the day.

Fast forward a year, and I find myself contemplating the promise that a new year inevitably brings to our lives. Why is that? What is it about this arcane way of tracking the relentless march of time that we place such significance on moving from one year to the next, one decade to the next, one century to the next, and so on. Something about new beginnings undoubtedly captures our collective imaginations.

For many of us the start of a new year serves as a metaphor for our lives. Somehow, by the time the holidays are over, we feel ready to tackle new challenges and take charge of our futures in new ways. This is where kindness comes in, because when we make New Year’s resolutions, we are doing ourselves an important kindness. We are giving ourselves permission to start over, to set new goals and aspirations that will bring us success and happiness. According to an article published in Inc.com, the top New Year’s resolutions are very personal and most often about self-improvement: losing weight, sticking with an exercise routine, saving money, getting a new job, quitting smoking, etc.

While up to a third of us don’t formally make any New Year’s resolution, I can imagine that many of those people (myself included) nevertheless quietly make promises to themselves about the coming year. I definitely fell into the trap this year (or should I say abyss?) of thinking that a new year means new personal opportunity and new resolve. Jay used to laugh at me every time I turned over a new leaf, and he was right. I’d live in a virtual forest if all the new leaves I’ve turned over in the last 40 years took root and became a permanent part of me.

So I’m not going to publicly announce any resolutions, which only sets me up for the inevitable failure down the road. On the other hand, what’s wrong with a little aspiration and inspiration as I try to make positive strides in my life without Jay? People who have suffered severe losses have good reason to take advantage of artificial opportunities to fill the empty pockets in their lives with new plans for finding fulfillment, enjoyment, new friends and new routines. Pursuing these opportunities helps us forge the life course that keeps us on a positive path rather than a negative slide.

This year I’m unusually ambitious about turning the darkness of winter into the brightness of personal possibility. No one knows better than I that putting some money down to back up my hopes and dreams forces me to commit more than just good intentions. So here is how I will be spending chunks of my free time (and some dollars) in the next several months:

• Banjo lessons. I’m particularly excited about this one since I have always loved bluegrass music and bought my banjo at my son’s urging some 12 years ago. “They” say that learning a new musical instrument is good for the brain, especially aging ones. I tried teaching myself and actually made some progress on my own when I first got it, enthusiasm for the instrument being the early driving force. But then life took over and my motivation dwindled further when after a few years of not touching it I discovered that I had pretty much forgotten everything I thought I had learned. Clearly I need a fresh start. I like my teacher and have high hopes that he will help me overcome my own pitiful personal will power.
• Weekly yoga. I’m signed up and paid for 7 weeks so now I must follow through, right? I’ve actually been wanting to learn yoga for years, but apparently not enough to make room for it in my schedule. Until now. Since I am very much a beginner I had to find a class that has fairly low expectations for someone in her 60’s doing it for the first time. We’ll see how it goes, but I’m feeling pretty motivated at the moment (and sore after lesson one…).
• Finally, I signed up for obedience classes for my new pup, who is now 8 months old and as adorable as ever. Sadie is showing an early aptitude for agility training (obstacle courses, tunnels, balancing, etc) but she needs to do basic training first so that starts in March for 6 weeks. If I am right about her agility potential, this could open up a whole new world of friends and activities I can pursue in my spare time. Agility competitions don’t require purebred pedigrees, just enthusiastic and talented dogs, and I think I may have one of those. To be continued…

I also have my full time workload, of course, and am still in the process of figuring out what my professional goals are for myself at this point in my life. My friends are as important as ever, and I am determined to strengthen social connections and also build new ones as opportunities arise. As I do so, I want to make sure I pay attention to maintaining the proper balance for myself between work responsibilities and life satisfaction. They aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, but I know I need to enhance the professional work I do with diversions that bring me joy in a more personal and intimate way.

As I pursue my various personal goals, I hope to become more mindful of external aspects of my life. I wish I had the mental energy now to promise myself that I will be more engaged with the world around me in a way that promotes kindness on a larger scale, leveraging it as a solution to societal problems. I don’t know what that will eventually look like and I hope I get there, but for now I need to focus my energies inwardly and get my personal house in order before I can focus outwardly and work on world peace.

Building new friendships, having an active social life, and pursuing opportunities for learning new skills and new ideas will hopefully keep me healthy and on the path to positive living. Of course, Jay is always present in me, whether in the foreground or in the background, and that’s as it should be. That said, in this new year of 2019, I plan to make continued progress toward being a whole person, living within his absence in a way that also pushes me toward contented resilience.

As you move into the new year, be kind to yourself whether you make resolutions or not. And if you aren’t able to live up to your goals for the year, be even kinder and more forgiving. Remember that moving from one year into the next is an artificial and arbitrary boundary that means absolutely nothing in the great scheme of our lives. Give yourself permission to focus on the small successes, small joys, whatever they are and whenever they occur. These can form the basis of a satisfied life lived on your own terms, and let’s not forget that when all is said and done we are accountable to no one here on earth but ourselves.

Happy New Year to all of my readers.

Getting Back in the Blog

As we speed toward the end of 2018, I can’t help but think about and reflect on where I was last year at this time. Jay was getting weaker day by day, and we were both recovering from the onslaught of family who made their way to Michigan from near and far to spend the Christmas holiday with us. Although no one said it out loud, it was apparent to everyone that this would likely be Jay’s last Christmas, and all his nieces and nephews, as well as my siblings and their spouses, wanted to spend the holiday with him. I remember letting everyone know they were welcome to come, but not to expect my usual “hostess with the mostest” approach to such visits. In keeping with the very special people they are, they were totally self sufficient the entire time they were here and I didn’t have to do anything except be with Jay and make sure he was managing okay with the chaos going on around him. I have some very sweet pictures from that visit. Jay had a lot of trouble holding up his end of any conversation due to the brain tumor eating away at his language controls, but he clearly enjoyed seeing everyone and felt the love that surrounded him.

Fast forward a year and so much has happened in my life. From losing Jay in February, to Conrad moving to New York, to preparing for and hosting Jay’s Appreciation Event in early May, to a six week traveling odyssey in June and July to Tanzania, Ireland and Romania, to going back to work in August, to adopting a rescue puppy in September, to beginning a major renovation project to add more livable space to my small house, to just learning to live with the sorrow inside me, this year has been a true test of my resolve to discover and rebuild my identity after the whirlwind eight months that thrust me into widowhood. (apologies to all you English majors for the unusually long sentence…)

I have not written a Kindness Continuum entry since early September. I could say that all of the above sapped my reserves or that I just didn’t have the time. While writing and posting the blog does require a certain amount of time and effort to develop a blog topic worthy of publication, the real truth is that every time I thought about starting a topic, I simply didn’t feel that I had anything useful to say. I found myself wondering what compelled me to start this blog in the first place and why did I think that my previous blog posts were interesting to anyone but me? What kind of hubris does it take to put one’s self “out there” regularly and expect others to take the time to read and be interested in my writings? Who am I to think that I have something to say that hasn’t been said before and better by someone else?

So I went into a writing hiatus and instead concentrated on learning how to navigate my new widowed lifestyle. I worked on settling into work, spending time with friends, staying in touch with family, and training my puppy. What’s changed now? I’m not really sure, but I’ve always been a person who is pretty much an open book when it comes to my thoughts and feelings. Somehow it continues to be cathartic to write down some of the things that are on my mind and offer them up for comment and conversation. So far the overall experience hosting this blog has been more positive than negative so I figure when the “spirit” moves me to put myself into the world I’ll just do it. While I hope my words are interesting or inspiring or otherwise satisfying for others to read, that has never been my primary motive (although I do enjoy your responses, and I continue to invite others to contribute your own writings to this blog).

Grieving Through the First Year

Grief experts will tell you that after losing someone close, one of the major tasks, which can be challenging, is getting through all the “firsts.” And yes, I have been methodically mourning my way through various “firsts” associated with the loss of Jay. Our wedding anniversary on March 22, Jay’s birthday on May 2, Thanksgiving, the annual Michigan/Ohio State football match up, and now Christmas and New Year’s (with more to come in 2019 as we approach my birthday in January and the final end on February 11). But as I think about these “firsts,” I am also realizing that it isn’t the “firsts” that are hardest for me. Those are the times I tend to spend with friends or family, people with whom I feel nurtured and supported and comforted. It is the rest of the time, the daily living, that can be just as hard, if not harder, than those “special” days.

Based on my own experience (admittedly a rather small sample…), I believe that when you have spent your daily life with someone for many years (37 in my case), it is all the little intimacies that only the two of you experienced together that you miss the most. The conversations and memories we had that we didn’t have with anyone else. The expectations we had of each other day to day. The way we balanced each other in social situations. The easy way we could communicate without even talking. The comfort and significance of touches, smells, voices, humor. The physical warmth and security we provided each other. Jay’s intimate presence in my life every day whether he was next to me in bed, riding with me in the car, sitting at the table, watching TV, working in the next room, listening on the other end of the phone while on the other side of the country or world, etc. etc.

The fact is that we were there for each other and shared the most private and personal aspects of our daily lives without even realizing that’s what we were doing. In general, I think that the significance of these everyday moments, and the frequency with which they occur over the years of a long term relationship, is rarely appreciated by the participants while they are happening. That’s what joining lives together is all about. We are separate people, but by the same token we behave as one cohesive, seamless unit in so many ways. With Jay gone, that which was “us” is now broken, and the separate person that was “I” is now a different “I” because who I was separate from Jay was influenced by and grew out of the oneness that was “us” when we were together.

When the “us” broke apart, the world that was our daily life together also broke apart. Out of necessity I am slowly but surely building another sense of self, another separate person, but this time without the anchor of the “us” that was. The fact that various significant anniversaries and holidays are occurring around me is incidental to the overall transformation of my life without Jay. Every day is its own struggle. Every day sees new opportunities for the new person that is becoming the new me.

Who am I without Jay? I don’t know yet, but I am definitely a work in progress, and definitely someone new and different than I was before. Stay tuned (and subscribe to the blog) if you are interested in taking the journey with me.

Short personal update

It has been some time since my last post. I have returned to work after almost a year and a half of being away. It is definitely good to be back and to be busy in a totally different way than last year, but it’s still quite an adjustment. When I took stock of where I am now as opposed to where I was a year ago, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that Jay, while certainly the most significant loss of this year, was not the only one. I also lost two cats (the first in January, the second in August), and my son and his dog moved to New York. Both my life and my house were feeling rather empty after all that, and I decided that I needed a little more companionship in my daily life. Enter Sadie, who was adopted at 12 weeks old, and after only one week I can’t imagine life without her. Another dramatic change in my lifestyle, but a very uplifting one. She’s endearing, very sweet tempered,  and makes me laugh.

Now to more important matters…

It is not my intention that this blog become a political platform, but on the other hand I can’t help but view the world through the lens of my personal and professional ethics and values and this necessarily influences how I see and interpret what’s going on around me. As a social worker my ethical responsibilities require me to attend to the needs of the most vulnerable among us, and this often means advocating for the interests of people many of us are willing to “throw away” and ignore. In my world I am confronted daily with the realities of the systemic abuses and corporate excesses that oppress whole populations of people and create insurmountable barriers to the successes our Constitution says we all have a right to attain.

So it is against that backdrop that I confess that I’m a bit of a political junkie. I teach social policy, community organizing and advocacy at my university.  I devour the news each night to find out the latest on the political scandals of the day or week, admittedly in the hopes that finally Congress will see the light about our current President and begin the process of removing him from office.

While I think I understand at a certain level why people may have voted for this President in 2016, I have little understanding why many of those same people are rabid in their continuing support for him now. The wholesale demonization by this administration of various groups of people at various times, while at the same time making exceptions for those close to the administration, is exceedingly frustrating to watch. Where are the core values so vital to our democracy; where is the integrity, respect, honor and authenticity that we have a right to expect from our leaders? What does the naked ambition, rampant lying, overt stealing, and unethical and contemptuous behavior say to the American people and the world? Are the policies you may support that are coming out of this administration worth the sort of moral compromise that requires men and women of integrity to overlook time and time again behavior that would have been career ending for anyone else? Why does this particular President and his cronies get a free pass every time?

I am deeply concerned about our collective futures, so I have been attentive to the succession of indictments, guilty pleas and guilty verdicts that have been hitting the headlines of late, and am struck by the extreme double standard when it comes to how the President talks about his former friends versus the way he talks about others. How is it that he (and so many others) so easily turn a blind eye to the millions of dollars stolen from the taxpayers through their fraudulent and evasive money making strategies? White collar crimes such as the ones making the news are so much more dangerous to democracy (and, dare I say, world peace) and impact all of us in a much bigger way than the petty drug crimes and misdemeanors that make up such a large percentage of our prison and jail populations these days.

On the one hand there is Eric Garner, who was simply trying to make his way in the world as best he could, but died from excessive police harassment and violence when he was on the street selling loose cigarettes to passersby. The difference between how he was treated and how we generally treat wealthy criminals is stunning, and most of us don’t realize or appreciate the extent of what this disparity costs us as a country when neighborhoods and families are decimated so thoroughly while the bigger criminals operate with impunity and little to no accountability. Investigative journalist and writer Matt Taibbi chronicled these differences in detail in two books that are worth a look: The Divide and I Can’t Breathe: A Killing on Bay Street.

Then there is Paul Manafort, an interesting case that illustrates the concerns I raised above about power and the abuse of that power. As The Atlantic reported, he spent his life doing exactly what he wanted in order to make the money he needed to support his lavish lifestyle and he didn’t give a hoot how he did it or who he hurt or what laws he broke along the way.  While I won’t pretend to know all the details and intrigue surrounding his life and ambitions, what I do know is that he pursued his goals with abandon, believing that he would never get caught, and even if he did he would never be convicted or otherwise held to account. This confidence in his own personal supremacy and his arrogance and perceived invulnerability directly led to his decision to go to a jury trial. Did he think the jury wouldn’t have the guts to convict him? Or did he think he could pay off enough jurors to get a hung jury or a full aquittal? Hard to tell what was in his mind (or how he tried to “game” the system), but I’ve no doubt he was surprised when he actually heard the words “guilty” and discovered that, in the end, he’s mortal like the rest of us.

A man like Paul Manafort reminds me of some of the defendants I represented when I was practicing criminal law many moons ago. They were always genuinely surprised when I told them they would likely have to go to prison and it was just a question of how long. They couldn’t believe it, and thought that there was no way they could be found guilty or get sent away. I was representing soldiers at that time, sometimes career enlisted men and women, or officers who thought they were above the law and didn’t want to believe that a 20-something newbie lawyer like me knew more than they did about accountability and the law. Paul Manafort came from a world of payoffs and corruption, where there was always a way out of any jam and a guaranteed return to the life of greed and lawbreaking. Until there wasn’t. How many other Paul Manaforts are out there still running amok?

Contrast the Paul Manafort mindset with the attitudes we see these same people display toward their fellow criminals. They have no tolerance for what I would call “poverty crimes” and no interest in fixing a system that preys disproportionately on the poor and especially people of color.

There is much suffering in the world and we don’t have to look very far to see it. Too often we blame the poor for their own suffering. We do this all the time when it comes to poverty and our government’s social safety net, or welfare. We justify taking away or putting limits on benefits like food stamps or subsidized housing, for example, by telling ourselves that it is their own fault when people can’t get ahead in the world, or can’t find a job, or suffer from an addiction or mental illness that prevents them from living productive lives. Because we choose to believe that they made poor choices and caused their own suffering, we let ourselves off the hook when it comes to taking an interest in the circumstances and chain of events that led them to those choices. Which then relieves us of the responsibility to help them lift themselves up and out. When decades of oppressive policies leave the only economic path open to them an illegal one and all that it entails, we could try to remedy those policies and create real opportunities for meaningful education and economic advancement. Instead, we round them up and drive them off the cliff into the oblivion that is our criminal justice system, a vicious cycle where they never escape and whole families and their communities are destroyed. Are these folks really more dangerous to society than the white collar criminals who wear nice suits, hang out with lobbyists and world leaders, yet are stealing millions of dollars daily while nobody seems to care?

Of course, in order to ignore the plight of the poor, or the mentally ill, or the historically oppressed, we necessarily must also ignore all the intentionally placed roadblocks that prevent most poor families from improving their lives. By framing the occasional successes as the norm, not the exception, we tell ourselves that everyone could be successful if they just try hard enough. Unfortunately, this is a terrible fallacy that we rely on to give ourselves permission to support policies that make it even more difficult for people already living extremely difficult lives. We use ourselves as the benchmark – “if I can do it then anyone can” when in fact our own personal histories and hardships bear no resemblance to the people we are comparing ourselves to.

Acknowledging the reality of suffering and the deep harm that it causes, means that we must then try to do something about it. That’s where The Kindness Continuum kicks in. Accepting the collective responsibility of governments, societies, and individuals coming together can indeed make a difference in people’s lives. What might the world look like if we put the same effort into eradicating disease and poverty that we put into locking people up or building up the military industrial complex or looking the other way while corporate leaders run roughshod over their employees, the government and the environment?  Why can’t we harness that kind of commitment and power for more mundane purposes that would have even larger, positive effect on the world?

Where do the Eric Garners of the world fit on The Kindness Continuum? What about the Paul Manaforts of the world? And what about us and the way we respond to the events that give rise to both? Where would we place ourselves?

 

 

In the United States it is all too apparent that we live in a society that values being “one up” on others whenever possible. Of course, that means that when we are “up” someone else is necessarily “down.” When we believe that we have the upper hand in a situation (or that we possess “more” of something than someone else) we often feel more confident, powerful, and in control of our own decisions and outcomes.

This ill-gotten boost to our self esteem makes us feel good, and to keep feeling good about ourselves we may try to keep the upper hand by continuing to put others down, sometimes in front of other people (think about the worst boss you ever had, or maybe you ARE that boss…). But when we are the ones putting others down, this feeling of satisfaction is only an illusion of our own creation. To maintain this illusion we must often resort to intimidation, manipulation, insults, or worse. Experts tell us that we are hard wired to play this game of oneupsmanship. In the moments when we are feeling the most vulnerable and the most powerless, or we fear we are losing control  over a situation, we use this mammalian survival technique to not only feel better, but also to regain a feeling of control over our lives. But at what cost do we give ourselves over to our primate brain governed by genetics and instinct, rather than using our human brain, with its ability to be reflective, ethical, and moral? Do we not have the power within us to foster a more humane existence for our species?

We think we feel better by “sticking it” to someone else, but in reality this behavior simply slides us the wrong way down the Kindness Continuum. Making someone else feel bad may make us feel good in that moment, but it doesn’t last, and it doesn’t bring us closer to others; rather, it simply pushes others away. And thus the wall around us and our feelings gets higher and higher because we constantly look away to avoid facing the pain that we ourselves are causing someone else. There is no place for empathy because that would force us to actually experience that person’s pain, and who wants that? Then we might have to do something about it. Empathy, however, is a critically important emotion in our lives, and its absence leads to severe negative outcomes to innocent people, as described further below.

We don’t have to look far to see how prevalent our “put down” culture is in the United States. It can easily occur on an individual level, such as in the following example:

You are at a restaurant with a close relative and a person who is overweight passes by your table. Your relative says in a voice definitely within earshot of the person walking by, “There sure are a lot of fat people at this place. I hope she isn’t planning to order dessert.” The person flinches ever so slightly and keeps on walking, not making eye contact with anyone.

Why on earth would anyone say such a thing? And yet I was witness to this very scene, perpetrated by an older person who was totally immune to any attempt to hold them to account for such open and public cruelty. This is what I would call a “gratuitous” unkind act, which I define loosely as an act that has no other purpose than to “stick it to” another person (or group) and make them feel bad about themselves. There are other versions of this type of unkind act that we have seen reported rather frequently in the last couple of years, and they often have blatant racist overtones, and involve direct confrontation with the person on the receiving end.  What do we do when we are witness to such unkindness? What if the perpetrator is someone we love? To the extent that we are made uncomfortable by such acts, what is our responsibility to call out the person or support the victim? Social media and the ability to capture a video easily and quickly certainly have raised the awareness of the ubiquitous nature of such behavior, but could we be doing more, and what might that be?

Does it make any difference that the person being disparaged is not within earshot of the person making the unkind remarks? If the target of the unkindness isn’t aware of the unkind act, is it still unkind, and if so, what is to be done? An extension of this problem is that posed by “jokes” that target certain population groups, thus perpetuating gender, religious, ethnic, racial stereotypes that in turn shape societal attitudes and beliefs.

Comedians complain about their craft becoming victim to excessive political correctness “policing,” but is it really? Is the issue a first Amendment free speech one, or is it a bigger problem that people feel so free to disparage entire groups of people with impunity, with no accountability for the harm that it causes? Research tells us that disparagement humor can have severe negative consequences. Labeling something “just a joke” doesn’t cure the problem. Words, and the biases (explicit or implicit) they express, have consequences and can indeed cause harm. They shape public opinion about what’s acceptable behavior and what isn’t, or who we need to be afraid of and who we don’t. That public perception fueled by bias then influences public policy, which can affect different population groups in dramatically different ways.

This issue of policy being influenced by unkind biases is not merely an academic debate. The most dramatic recent example I can think of to illustrate this point is the horrendous separation of thousands of immigrant children from their parents. This particular policy, with its callous and inhumane indifference to the likely irreparable harm inflicted on these children and their families, is simply unfathomable to me. It keeps me up at night. The images and videos make me physically ill (including a video that shows the unrelenting press corps as they chase a father and shove cameras and microphones in his face as he walks down the airport concourse with his small, obviously traumatized, son in his arms). The personal accounts I have seen of legal professionals, acting on behalf of these families, trying to navigate the chaotic mess that has been created, coupled with the lack of any shred of personal or governmental accountability, is mind boggling. Families are being reunited only because a federal judge has had the courage to hold the government’s feet to the fire, and for no other reason.

The gratuitous, totally avoidable, trauma suffered by these families will have lasting consequences. As of this writing, it appears probable that a certain number of these children will never be reunited with their parents. Any student of human behavior or psychology or child development will be quick to tell you that such a policy has the potential to do great and irreparable harm to the long term emotional stability of both the parents and the children. Let me repeat: this unnecessary trauma will have a permanent impact on the lives of these children and their future success as adults. As I read the accounts of how this policy is affecting families and children, I feel disappointment and anger (and yes, even disgust) toward the “leaders” who put this plan into action. Regardless of where anyone stands on the immigration debate, there is simply no excuse and no rationale that would make it okay under any circumstances for my government to intentionally inflict such injury on so many people. I feel shame that my country that I love chose this utterly devastating path rather than exploring a more humane approach to the issue they thought needed to be addressed. Being more thoughtful and yes, more kind, would not have been so hard.

I’m not going to pretend to have all the answers when it comes to immigration policy. But I do have a big problem with any policy that deliberately breaks up families, intentionally causes trauma to young children, and repeatedly demonstrates no regard whatsoever for their fellow human beings. These immigrants’ only crime was deciding to risk everything in order to flee the horrendous conditions in their home country and try to forge a better life in the United States. Is that so different from what our own ancestors did (for those of us who have been here for several generations)? That kind of courage and fortitude deserves respect no matter what, and whatever anyone thinks about the merit of their reasons for coming here, the people who cross the border are human beings, and deserve to be treated humanely and with dignity. Those children will grow up someday, and their success as adults (and their attitudes toward the United States) will be influenced by the traumas they were forced to endure at the hands of the U.S. government.

I worry that the small acts of unkindness we witness (or perpetrate) everyday, lead to immunity from the effects of larger acts of unkindness perpetrated by our elected officials. Do we look away and hope it all gets resolved someday, or do we take a more active role in holding people accountable for their unkind acts? And if the latter is the path we want to follow, how do we go about that and still maintain our own desired position on The Kindness Continuum?

We can do ourselves and our country a small, fairly easy act of kindness by simply becoming more civically engaged. With that in mind, I encourage us all to vote this year and when we do, let’s keep The Kindness Continuum in the back of our mind as we review the attitudes and records of those who are asking for our votes and expecting us to trust them with our futures. Given the importance of this election, this probably won’t be the last time I mention the importance of voting. Don’t sit out the primaries this year – they are more important than ever!

Experts tell us that healing from a significant loss involves embracing our grief in whatever expression fits the unique needs of the particular person. For me, expressing my thoughts and reflections in this blog is one of several strategies I am using to get through the process and come out whole on the other side. While writing out and sharing my reflections is cathartic for me, it is also my hope that others who may also be struggling with a significant loss will perhaps see themselves in my writing and feel supported and validated.  The power of human connection and the commonality of our experiences can provide comfort to those of us who are open to the possibilities. Sometimes it doesn’t matter whether our connections are direct, personal relationships or more indirect, abstract relationships such as those that are possible on the internet.

(Please note: It is not my intention that every blog post be about my personal grief journey after losing my husband last February, but it has taken me longer than expected to settle back into a routine after getting home from my six week trip abroad. Hopefully my readers will stick with me while I figure out my life in between attending to my goals for The Kindness Continuum blog. Thank you!)

I’m unique but not unique, and everything is as it should be even as nothing is as it should be.

I arrived home three weeks ago, and until now have not posted a blog entry. My son met me in Detroit and we spent a wonderful day and a half together before he drove back to New York, where he has (somewhat) settled into his new life as a computer scientist working in the financial district of Manhattan. Conrad took his adorable Husky Sophie with him, ending my month long stint prior to my trip as a stand-in doggie caretaker.

Being home has turned out to be a mixed blessing for me, as I knew it would be. I admit it was very hard in the first days after Conrad left. The house was way too empty, way too lonely, and I spent several very melancholy days just milling around, not eating, not really doing anything. A simple trip to the grocery store turned into a major challenge when, in every aisle, I saw only items that I would have normally picked up for Jay or Conrad (or even Sophie, the dog), but now had no reason to do so. I didn’t see anything on the shelves I wanted, only items I knew they would have wanted. Thankfully, the other patrons didn’t notice my tears as I wandered aimlessly through the aisles, and the cashier didn’t mention my red puffy eyes when I paid for the few items I forced myself to get. (Or at least they all kindly left me alone…)

I didn’t call anyone in those dark hours because I knew I would be too choked up to talk. Besides, there was a part of me that wanted, needed to be alone in the house and managing on my own. That’s the mixed blessing: the aching loneliness without Jay and the longing for him to return to me, coupled with the relative contentment and solace I feel in this cozy, comfortable place where I find peace and refuge. Jay and I loved this house, loved this city, and spent the last ten years carving out our life here and making a home; why wouldn’t I want to look for comfort here? Those initial days were made easier once I reconnected with friends and family, began taking walks, and resumed some semblance of a daily routine.

A prominent expert in the grief field, William Worden, tells us that when it comes to mourning, there are four primary tasks we all need to accomplish. On the one hand, this seems a rather simplistic view of a very complex process. But on the other hand, these four simple tasks cover a range of emotions and feelings that anyone who is grieving a significant loss can easily identify with. The tasks provide a useful tool to help us understand the process of mourning, and also serve to assure me that I’m not crazy or (God forbid!) “abnormal.”

Task #1 – Accepting Reality

The first task is about accepting the reality of the loss. Apparently it is quite common to live for awhile in a state of denial, or to express disbelief at what has happened. Indeed, even though Jay has been gone since February, I still find myself asking, “How could this have happened?” or “This can’t be true!” I can close my eyes and easily imagine him next to me, and can “feel” and “hear” him without any difficulty whatsoever.  I sometimes listen to a message on my phone and pretend that it is one day old rather than 2 years old.

Taking an overseas, faraway trip for six weeks was something I really needed to do, and I couldn’t easily explain why I felt so compelled to leave. On reflection, I believe (and the experts confirm this) that it helped serve as a protective mechanism, a buffer against the reality of my new life as a widow. Because I wasn’t at home, the trip allowed me to pretend when I needed to that Jay wasn’t really gone, and I could ignore the reality whenever I felt like it. The trip was my escape valve (admittedly, a rather expensive one…). Some experts say that this feeling of disbelief actually helps the grieving person survive the loss. The urge and tendency to deny the truth (or ignore it) provides the space and time needed to make the adjustment to a new life without the loved one.

I certainly can’t speak for others, but I can say it does give me some comfort to know that my occasional urge to pretend Jay isn’t gone is an expected part of the process. I am a highly rational person (most of the time), and my head knows very well that Jay isn’t coming back. But I’m glad I don’t have to feel shame or be apologetic when I express my disbelief, which is borne out of the heartache that doesn’t want to go away.

Task #2 – Feeling the Pain

The second task, according to Worden, is working through the pain of the loss. There is no timeline for something like this and it will be different for everyone. For me, I have little control over the pain and when it hits, it often hits hard, like what happened in the grocery store a few weeks ago. I have learned that embracing the pain is the best way to work through it, and so I do not fight the urge to cry or tear up; I just let whatever the feelings are wash over me.

This strategy of embracing the pain has served me pretty well, and I think I am weathering the storms more easily now than at first because I am not fighting them and I know that I will get through each when it hits. Of course, I am keenly aware that I have had the luxury of spending most of my time since Jay’s death in very supportive environments around very supportive people. In a few short weeks I will be returning to work. What’s going to happen then? It’s not so convenient to have your emotions right at the surface, spilling out while you are trying to run a meeting, or teach a class, or simply get work done. I’m hoping that by the time my first day back rolls around I’ll be ready, but I really won’t know until it happens.

Suffering Jay’s loss, and the struggle of the last year while he was sick and I was on an extended leave of absence from my career, has changed me. I don’t know yet what the change actually means for me or how it may affect my work. I hope that my colleagues and students will grant me the grace (and kindness) I need as I make the adjustment to an environment where others’ needs are as or more important than my own. I need to be able to balance the pain I experience on the inside with the important work of engaging fully with the world around me again.

The pain of grief is not just about emotions, however. There are well documented physical manifestations such as loss of appetite, memory problems, sleeplessness, anxiety, confusion, and lethargy. I have experienced all of these at different times, and I have noticed that my attention span and memory have been particularly affected. I am known to most of my friends, family and colleagues as a highly organized person who pays attention to details, meets deadlines easily and is generally thorough and reliable. I worry that my colleagues are in for a big surprise if I’m not able to step up to the plate. In many respects I feel I am now a shadow of my former self.

That said, I am encouraged by the fact that, as with Task #1, the pain of Task #2 is a necessary part of the process and there is light at the end of that tunnel.  If I am able to mourn in a healthy way then I will get to the other side of the pain and it won’t be so debilitating or as frequent as it feels now. Mourning in a healthy way basically means embracing the pain and expressing the feelings in ways that enhance the healing process rather than diminish it.  I already can see that I’m making progress in this regard, and my hope is that I will continue that progress over the next few weeks so that I am fully functional (or as close as I can get) when I finally get back into my office.

Task #3 – Adjusting to Life Alone

Task number three involves learning to live with the reality of the loss. It’s where we get to once we get past the feeling of disbelief and denial described in Task #1. As the episodes of incredulity at what has happened become less frequent and fade over time, I am slowly but surely adjusting and trying to embrace my life without Jay. I don’t really want to embrace it because that’s not the life I chose for myself. I feel a bit guilty for trying to accept my life the way it is now, but I understand the importance of not letting myself get “stuck” in a way that will prevent me from living my life fully and moving forward. Treading water is simply not an option I’m willing to accept.

For me, adjusting to life alone means learning not to let the loneliness take over, and not letting anxieties about living alone interfere with the contentment that is also possible. Let’s face it, when Jay was alive we often spent time apart due to our different schedules and work obligations. It was not at all unusual for me to spend days or weeks alone in the house, and I’m not too proud to admit that I sometimes savored that time alone. Of course, I would give it all up to have him back, but that isn’t possible, so what is one to do??

When our careers and family activities were keeping us apart (as opposed to the permanency of death) we still managed to talk pretty much every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Even if I were the one making a decision about something (due to the fact I’m a rather controlling person when it comes right down to it…) we would still go through the charade of discussing things first, and Jay often offered a point of view that I hadn’t fully considered (and yes, it sometimes – ok, often… – altered the ultimate outcome of the decision). I don’t have his perspective anymore, nor do I have his deep knowledge reservoir that I tapped into so frequently over the years. Adjusting to the permanent absence of his readily available intellect is not easy.

I am also adjusting to the fact that if I get sick Jay won’t be around to take me to the emergency room, or even to consult with me about whether I should go to the emergency room. One way I am adjusting to this aspect of life without him is to pay closer attention to my health and see my doctor a little more frequently for check-ups.

Jay and I had talked about having some remodeling work done on the house but hadn’t made any firm decision about what to do. One of my adjustments to life alone is making the decision to move forward with the remodeling project in an effort to improve my own quality of life through my physical surroundings. I love this cozy home and want to stay here; making these improvements will not change the fact of my solitary life, but will enhance my ability to enjoy the time I spend here alone and also with friends.

Task #4 – Keeping Connection While Moving On

To illustrate this task, I want to share a story here about a special kindness that was shown to me recently. I first need to say that I have never been one to believe that everything happens for a reason, or that life is preordained, and I mean no disrespect to those who do. But I do believe that sometimes people come into our lives just when we need them to and they make a profound difference to our existence in that moment or over time. I have been blessed with meeting or knowing a number of such people over the years, and whenever it happens I am always left feeling that I have received so much more out of the encounter than I have given to the person who was so generous to me.

It is in this context that I want to share the kindness of a precious gift that was totally unexpected but that means so much to me. A friend who I barely knew 18 months ago has become an indispensable part of my life now. She jumped in head first when Jay got sick, and without asking for anything in return. Through many hours of hard work, she organized our affairs in a way that helped prepare us for Jay’s inevitable end while also minimizing the negative financial impact that his death would have. Suffice it to say that I don’t know what I would have done without Angela during those agonizing eight months of Jay’s illness, or the almost six months since he’s been gone. There is virtually no way I can ever begin to repay her for her generosity and kindness shown to both Jay and me.

With all that she has given to me over the last months as the backdrop (with very little in return by my reckoning), I can tell you I was totally unprepared for the drawing she presented to me upon my return from my trip. Unbeknownst to me she had asked a relative of hers who is an artist to do a special drawing based entirely on her memory and description of a tender moment she witnessed between Jay and me one day when we were out for a walk. I was (and still am) overwhelmed by the gesture, and burst into tears when I opened the package and saw it. I can clearly see Jay in the drawing; he’s even wearing clothes that are still hanging in the closet.

I am sharing the story because this gift, which I’ll admit brings pain and heartache whenever I gaze at it, also helps serve as the bridge I need to be able to move forward. Somehow, having the picture on the wall and knowing the effort, sensitivity and caring that went into getting it done for me, provides me enormous comfort and aids my healing. Jay will never see this beautiful picture – it’s the only one in the house that he played no part in picking out or hanging. Yet it provides me with a tangible connection to him while also representing my transition as I forge a life without him and move forward. I treasure the picture and the thoughtfulness that went into creating it.

Moving forward is inevitable, as is maintaining the memories that kept us connected all those years we spent together. No matter what happens to me in the future, Jay will always remain an integral part of my life, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I feel confident that, wherever I am in the grieving process in any given moment, I will eventually succeed in mastering these four tasks. I am grateful to those of you out there who are helping me along the way. Your kindnesses are what make the difference between success and failure when a loss of this magnitude strikes. I know in my heart that I’m going to be okay, and if any of you readers are suffering in a similar way, take heart in knowing that you aren’t alone and that we have it within ourselves to honor and stay connected to our loved one and still be able to heal from the devastation.

I’m winding up my amazing six week odyssey sitting in the Reykjavik Iceland airport on an eight hour layover. After strolling everywhere there is to stroll (this is not a particularly large airport), eating some lunch (smoked salmon and dill, of course…), and shopping (wool scarf and birch liqueur, plus some fish jerky – Viking food for my son Conrad), I find I still have a good five hours before boarding.

What to do? I am in the middle of a good book (Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng – highly recommended, by the way), but it is much more fun at the moment sitting in the middle of the main thoroughfare where everyone must pass to get to the bathrooms, food, shopping, and departure gates. I flew in on WOW Airways, a great airline known for cheap fares and few frills. A wonderful mix of people are constantly passing before me. Many of the flights out of Iceland are headed for the US, so there is a lot of American English being spoken all around me, mixed in with many other languages, of course, a key feature of any international airport. Lots of big groups of young people traveling together – sports teams? musicians? church youth groups? who knows? Lots of families, lots of older people as well, many of them also in tour groups. A number of people traveling alone, like me.

What better time to add one final post to The Kindness Continuum? When I get back, I plan to continue blogging, but the focus will necessarily change. I expect I will continue to use my personal experiences as a jumping off point, but my hope is that the scope of interest in the blog will change and expand as I continue to explore the topic of kindness and its place in the world at large from different perspectives. (Important Note: I also invite anyone interested to submit a guest blog. I would love for The Kindness Continuum to include articles from different perspectives in addition to my own.)

So here are a few observations and reflections on my entire six week experience, in no particular order:

1. Being on the move for days on end can be both exhilarating and exhausting. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, but I admit I am really looking forward to being back in my own cozy home, seeing my friends and family again, and getting back into some semblance of a routine. The anticipated kindnesses that I predicted in the article I posted before taking the trip did indeed come to fruition. I am convinced that the world is in large part a very kind place, with people looking out for each other, respecting each other, and often going out of their way to favor someone else even when it is neither expected nor needed (and even when it is somewhat of a personal sacrifice or hardship for the person doing the favor). My generalized observation is that most of us simply want to live our lives, explore the world (however we define the boundaries of our world), and connect with others, whether family or strangers. I saw evidence of this over and over again, and it gives me hope. In future blogs I hope to examine how this gentleness and kindness on the part of the “masses” seems to get hijacked by the relative few that end up controlling how we live our lives. I can’t shake the feeling that if our kinder natures were nurtured rather than squashed, the world would be a better place. How to get us there is the question that has nagged at me for most of my life.
2. Ethiopia, Tanzania, Qatar, England, Ireland, Germany, Romania, Iceland – these are the countries I touched while on my trip. Granted, some of you might not count the airports as true visits, but I am including them because my layovers added texture and interest to the trip that would not have otherwise been there. It gave me a window onto the traveling world that I am not often exposed to. Many of you are no doubt much more seasoned travelers than I but for me, spending time in any airport provides a unique type of traveling experience.

   

   On the one hand everyone there is headed somewhere else, whether within or outside that country.But on the other hand, each airport is a reflection of the country in which it sits – the culture and personality of the people who design, run and work at that airport, the food available between flights, wares you see in the shops that extol the virtues of the particular country, and the passengers who pass through the airport located in that particular corner of the world. I love strolling around and observing the people and families rushing about, trying to get checked in, scurrying to their gates, dutifully emptying their pockets and bags of liquids, metal and electronics before passing through security, or simply sitting at the gate waiting to board. There is a “cattle call” aspect to all the waiting in lines, and the exhaustion is sometimes all too apparent in the faces of the weary passengers. Many of the travelers are indistinguishable from each other, but every now and again someone passes by and you think to yourself, “Mmm…that person looks interesting,” and you wonder what it might be like to get to know them better.

   

   On one of my flights I sat next to an opera singer. The only way I know this (because we did not have a conversation the entire flight) is because as soon as the doors to the plane were closed and we settled in for the takeoff, he got out his sheet music, opened the booklet, and began softly singing to himself. I didn’t want to disturb him so I furtively stole glances at his paper to see what it was, and believe he was practicing a part for the “Marriage of Figaro.” How cool was that?

3. The people I met and observed, as well as their cultures and physical environments, were endlessly fascinating. This is true for me in the United States as well, I should also add. The difference is that the environments I was in on this trip were less familiar to me, and so the people of those places were also less familiar to me. Since I seem to thrive on being exposed to new experiences and thoughts and ideas that expand my personal horizons, this trip was made to order for me in that respect. The people of each place I visited were generous in their willingness to let me invade their lives, whether literally, in the form of inviting me into their home for a time, or more figuratively, in the form of allowing me to visit and photograph various aspects of my experience and theirs.

   

   This truly made the overall trip much more meaningful for me. I don’t trust my memory to capture all that this trip had to offer, and so found myself taking pictures incessantly. I didn’t want to miss anything, and everything I encountered had a uniqueness to it.

4. This trip was a personal pilgrimage of sorts, as those of you who have been following me from the beginning know. The impetus that drove me out the door and over the ocean was the loss of my husband and my need to figure out how I was going to live without him and who that new person was going to be. I don’t know that I have figured all that out yet, and honestly don’t know that I ever will. The grief continues to bubble up at both expected and unexpected times. But I did discover a few things about myself.

   

   For example, thankfully I still have an appreciation of humorous situations and can laugh at myself.  It is also apparent that my family is more important than ever, and loving relationships with family and friends are their own reward, transcending any struggles or hardships we may encounter. Perhaps most importantly, I also discovered that I still have the ability to enjoy what life has to offer and that my curiosity about the world at large is still intact. I’m afraid this discovery manifested itself in a rather expensive way. The photos I took turned out not to be enough to truly capture the memories. It turned out that I also needed items a bit more tangible and three dimensional.

   

   I don’t really consider myself a compulsive spender in general, but I ended up sending home two boxes of items purchased while away, and my suitcase is similarly loaded. To make everything fit, at the end I left several pairs of shoes and various items of clothing behind. If this isn’t a sign of my survival instinct kicking in and encouraging me to continue thriving, I don’t know what is. (Jay would definitely not have approved…)

5. I have become curious about how the countries I visited are able to seamlessly mix the old with the new and find a balance and level of cultural pride that seems to transcend the constant push for “progress” and industrialization and corporate control over everything. Tanzania still has so much to overcome in terms of poverty, infrastructure, and population density.

   

   In Ireland the modern industrialized world is apparent everywhere, especially in the cities. Romania is still recovering from a relatively difficult post-WWII era and seems to be changing rapidly. Yet in each of these three countries I saw everyday people living everyday lives while still relying on the “old ways,” the simpler technologies and nomadic lifestyles such as herding cattle and goats (Tanzania), or using scythes to cut wheat and load it onto wagons drawn by horses (Romania), or small farmers in small villages hundreds of years old tilling the same soil and herding their sheep the same way in the same places their forefathers did (Ireland). But these are not simple, backward folk. They drive cars, they have cell phones, they are fully participating in the “modern world” in many, many ways. But they aren’t chastised or seen as oddities by the rest of their countrymen (at least from what I could tell from my severely limited perspective). They are embraced by the larger society and allowed to just go about their lives in their own way (while still being subject to the rule of law in that country, of course). In the United States, I believe the closest thing we have to people similarly living off the land would be the Amish, and they are pretty isolated from the rest of us and have spurned modern technologies. Native Americans might be another group that has tried to hang on to more traditional practices, but theirs is a complicated history of deprivation and oppression and suppression of culture by our government.

   

   Which is my point, I guess. In the United States we (as a culture, society and government) have made it pretty difficult for the simpler lifestyles and simpler technologies to thrive, while in the countries I visited those simpler practices were woven into the fabric of the modern world. As a result, the culture (to my mind, anyway), had a bit more texture, and implied a level of acceptance and tolerance that is not as apparent in the U.S.

So much for my musings in the airport. I was one of the first arrivals this morning, and while I have been writing this blog the airport became thick with the thousands of passengers pouring into the concourse, eating and shopping, and heading out again to their next stop. My turn is coming. Now, several hours later, the airport is almost empty again, but I still have over 2 1/2 hours to wait before I can board my flight. Time to swing through the duty free shop one more time, grab a bottle of water, and settle down with my book. See you on the flip side of the Atlantic!

I will be leaving Romania in two days. When I decided to come here, I really had no idea what to expect, or how the Kindness Continuum might fit into the experience. Like many children of the 60’s and 70’s, I grew up during the Cold War, and as a result learned very little about the countries on the other side of the Iron Curtain. While I loved history, I tended to focus on American History in high school and college rather than European or World History, so I learned the bare minimum about world events that did not directly involve the United States. I was curious about Russia and the Soviet Union, and in college took Russian as a foreign language (sadly, I remember almost nothing…), Russian literature, and 20th century Russian (Soviet) history. None of this dabbling taught me much of anything about the countries that were, for the most part, closed to the United States during the Cold War years – places like Yugoslavia, Albania, and Romania, for example. I knew they were run by dictators and that most Americans couldn’t go there to visit, but that’s about all I knew.

It turns out that Romania, as I had suspected, has a very rich, textured, interesting and complex history. Situated between Ukraine, Moldova, Hungary, Serbia and Bulgaria, and bordering the Black Sea, it is divided by the Carpathian mountain range which runs in a backward “L” shape through the country.  As Romania struggled through the centuries to define and govern itself, the location of the region made it vulnerable to invading forces from the north, west and south, and as a result the region over the years was controlled and influenced by various outside invaders. It was part of the Roman Empire, the Ottoman Empire, the Habsburg Empire, and the Astro-Hungarian Empire. This meant that the country became a political football of sorts, and the geographic borders of Romania changed frequently, with lots of different ethnic populations, religions and languages criss-crossing in and around the region, settling here or there, constantly incorporating new and different social and cultural norms into the preexisting ones. The mountains form a natural barrier, isolating some parts of Romania from other parts and further influencing the economic and social development of the different regions. These regions in turn were and still are influenced by the cultures, economics, religions and social norms of the different countries that border them.

All of this history is important when trying to understand or explain present-day Romania. As in Tanzania, I am here for only a blink of an eye, and bring with me a perspective and knowledge base that is extremely limited as I look around, absorb what I see and hear, and try to make sense of it all. What I am learning barely scratches the surface of truly understanding this country, its history, and its people. I have been watching and listening, however, and have had an added advantage of traveling with my brother and sister-in-law, whose connections to this interesting place go much deeper than mine.

My brother Daniel’s connections to Romania begin right around the time of the Romanian revolution, when their dictator, Nikolae Ceaucescu, was ousted from power (1989). Daniel visited the country several times in the 1990’s as a professional from the University of North Carolina School of Social Work. This was shortly after Romania became a democracy. After communism was toppled he was on the front lines with many others who witnessed the immediate aftermath of the dictatorship and he forged relationships with Romanian social work institutions in an effort to help the country get back on its feet. During Ceaucescu’s brutal 25 year reign millions of people had needlessly suffered (and died) while the dictator and his wife consolidated their absolute power and lived a life of unbridled luxury. (As a point of reference, his position on The Kindness Continuum would be at the far extreme near Hitler)

My sister-in-law Simona is a Romanian by birth, and 1/2 ethnic Roma (gypsy). She left the country after receiving her Masters in Social Work at the University of Bucharest to pursue a second MSW from the University of North Carolina. She and Daniel met along the way, married, and Simona eventually became a naturalized US citizen. But her Romanian roots run long and deep, and most of her family have remained in the country. She and Daniel have been visiting her home town of Reghin about every other year, and often travel to other parts as well, such as Cluj, Bucharest, and other regions.

I was fortunate to be invited along on this trip to visit Simona’s family, and they have graciously and generously shared their stories and their love for this beautiful place. It has been fascinating to listen to them talk about the changes that have occurred over the last 25 years since they have been coming here, and it has been great fun to be introduced to the country and its nuances through their eyes and experiences. While barely scratching the surface of what there is to learn and know, I would, nevertheless, like to share just a few of the snippets of the many conversations we have been having about what they have noticed on this trip as compared to previous trips. Maybe this bare minimum of information will pique your curiosity and questions as it has mine.

1.  A communist dictatorship had been in place in Romania at least since the end of World War 2, when Europe was arbitrarily divided up by the Soviet Union, the United States and England at the famous (or infamous, depending on how you look at it) Yalta Conference.

   

   Romania ended up under Soviet influence, and a dictatorship was immediately installed. Twenty five years ago the vestiges of the failed communist dictatorships were still very apparent. Daniel personally witnessed some of the thousands of street children living in abandoned buildings and underground sewers at that time. Packs of wild dogs made streets and neighborhoods unsafe. Children in orphanages were just beginning to be rescued from a life of cruel indifference. Today there is little overt evidence of the rampant neglect of children, although despite the assertions of some who live in Bucharest, it isn’t quite clear that the problem of street children has been fully resolved. We still see stray dogs about, but they are not nearly as prevalent or numerous as they once were.

2. As we drive around the countryside, Daniel and Simona have noted the improved infrastructure and the apparent improvement in overall standard of living of many Romanians. Villages and towns appear to be much cleaner, with new paint on the previously run down buildings and repairs to crumbling foundations. Since we are here in June, there are bright flowers virtually everywhere, with many window boxes and flower gardens in every yard.There is new construction going on all around us that was totally unexpected by Daniel and Simona, and more people now have cars, making the roadways in towns and cities much more clogged. New communities on the outskirts of Bucharest are inviting people to move out of the center of the city and into brand new residential complexes. Such development was virtually unheard of as recently as 5-10 years ago. One of the sad byproducts of this new development in Bucharest is the disappearance of the old craftsmen and artisan shops that used to occupy the center city. Replacing the artisans and glass blowers are gentrified restaurants and cafes, interspersed with strip clubs and porn shops. Sadly, the glass district that made downtown Bucharest so distinctive is completely gone, and the larger glass factories have moved elsewhere, no longer open to the public.

   

3. Ethnic tensions continue to be present, with the Roma population suffering the most in terms of overt discrimination. Many Roma families have given up their traditional practices and dress in an effort to assimilate more easily with the mainstream Romanian culture.

   

   Given the historical shifts in populations and cultural influences, it is not surprising that there are tensions between different groups. For example, there is also tension and competition between the Hungarians and Romanians, leftover conflict from previous struggles over land and people. Simona’s two young nephews, who are Roma, have suffered bullying in school, and the society seems to still have a long way to go before it will be able to move up on The Kindness Continuum with regards to ethnic discrimination.

4. There was rampant corruption during the Soviet era, and there are signs that it is still a problem. As in many countries, once corruption takes hold of a governmental structure and becomes part of the bureaucratic fabric of daily life, it is almost impossible to eradicate fully. While we were in Cluj, there were active protests going on about the corruption and the government’s seeming unwillingness to do anything about it. This was interesting to me because in Tanzania such open protesting against the government is being actively and sometimes brutally suppressed. At least in Romania it appears that people are free to protest, so the government (in my humble opinion) gets Kindness Continuum virtue points for that.

   

As I wind down my travels and prepare to return home, I am grateful for the kindnesses I see all around me, and hopeful for our future. But I am also mindful of the fact that we still have a long way to go if we are ever going to achieve world peace. The pushing and pulling that governments and world leaders put their people through for no reason other than to line their own pockets and consolidate power and influence (to what ultimate end??) does so much harm to the people just trying to live their lives. Power hungry leaders who do not have the best interests of their constituents in the forefront when they are making policy decisions, are profoundly impacting societies and populations and the world at large. I do worry about what the future holds even in the face of my hope that we will find a way to reconcile our need for personal gratification and power with our need to attend to the greater good.

I’m sure everyone has heard horror stories of family vacations gone awry, and it isn’t hard to find movies that document or exaggerate those horrors.  Think Deliverance, or National Lampoon’s Vacation. Mishaps, misunderstandings, surprises, unanticipated obstacles or unpredictable events can all derail the most carefully laid plans and the most compatible of family members.  But I’m here to tell you that the derailment is not inevitable, nor do those little blips in the trip have to destroy the experience. The key is to be open to the need to adapt to the reality on the ground when it doesn’t match up perfectly with the imagined perfection when the plans were originally made.

I’ve concluded that successful vacations with family happen not by accident, but because of several factors relevant to The Kindness Continuum. First, and perhaps foremost, the underlying love and respect has to be there. When it is unconditional, the love can transcend almost anything, and serves as the important recovery mechanism during the more stressful times.

Second is the ability to “let go” and not hold a grudge when things don’t go according to your preference.

Talking through the disagreements and acknowledging the pain or hurt that can result makes it possible to move beyond the more difficult conversations and emotions and move forward together again. Hanging on to family baggage or letting petty annoyances interfere with the underlying solid relationships have no place in our lives generally, but especially when spending day after day in close quarters and virtually on top of each other.

Third is the recognition and unconditional acceptance that everything is a negotiation and nothing is set in stone (with a few exceptions, like flight schedules, or prearranged appointments, for example). When everyone is flexible all things are possible. No one’s personal agenda is more important than anyone else’s, unless it involves a responsibility to someone else outside the traveling family unit. Inevitably, the carefully planned itinerary doesn’t align perfectly with actual circumstances and unfolding events, and it becomes necessary to move things around here and there. Keeping an open mind about where to go and what to do (and when), and not being too invested in any one thing, makes it possible to seize the new opportunities when they present themselves.

Finally, it is critical that each person has the back of everyone else. In other words, we all want a fun and fulfilling vacation for ourselves, but we have to want that for everyone else on the trip as well. This primary goal of sharing both the burdens and the benefits of the experience and each of us making sure that all of us are having an amazing time makes it easy to compromise when the time comes to make decisions.

Keeping kindness at the forefront of everything we do together has been sort of an unwritten, unexpressed value that has defined all of our encounters on this trip. We are all mindful of each other’s feelings, and take care to be sensitive to each others’ preferences when discussing decisions. This has made it much easier to get through the stressful moments, of which I have to say there have been very few (at least from my perspective – I can only speak for myself!). The trip has been very low key in that respect, and conversations and decision-making has been pretty seamless. Again, the willingness to be flexible on all sides has been key, as well as patience, respect and honoring everyone’s point of view. The ability to forgive and forget when tempers do flare is an important counterpart to kindness.

Ages of my fellow travelers range from 15 to 88, and the relationships range from parent/child to brother/sister to aunt/nephew to grandparent/grandchild to sisters in law and husband/wife. We all must be able to accommodate where each of us is in life, and I believe we’ve done a pretty good job of that.

We are also staying as guests in another family’s home, so there is an additional dimension of kindness and accommodation that is required when you are sharing living quarters with your hosts. Learning how to be a gracious guest becomes very important. We learned the first day to take our shoes off when entering the house, for example. The generosity of our hosts in Reghin cannot be overstated. They opened their home to us and have taken great pains to ensure that we are all comfortable and experience the best of what Romania has to offer. We have really enjoyed the meals, which have included very traditional dishes, all homemade. Some of us were strangers when we met, but were treated as family right from the start.

I leave this particular installment feeling grateful for the kindnesses I am experiencing during this portion of my trip. As we move around Romania, I am also forming impressions of the country and its culture, and will use the next installment to reflect a bit on what I am learning. This country is very different from the previous two I just visited, and raises different questions and observations about culture, history, ethnic tensions and entering the modern age. Stay tuned!

I left for this trip almost a month ago, on May 28. One of the reasons I felt compelled to take it at this time was to explore my identity and figure out who I am now that Jay, my husband of 37 years, is gone. I needed to do this totally away from familiar persons and places I have known, so I ended up in Tanzania.  That was an immensely rewarding experience, and I learned a lot and made some new dear friends that I very much hope to stay in touch with.

After the first three weeks I was ready to rejoin a more familiar world and so met up with some family members in Ireland. Still a new place, but with people I know and love. The visit to Ireland was a bit of a whirlwind. We were only there four days, and spent much of it trying to cram as much sightseeing in as we could while we also recovered from various minor illnesses and spent time with family who live there. Wonderful segment of the trip but not all that relaxing when all was said and done. We did make it to the Jameson distillery, however, and I will be bringing home a nice bottle of 12 year old Irish whiskey. We also got to stay a night in a castle hotel, which was fun, and sampled several versions of seafood chowder. Oh, and the Guinness was excellent and the seacoast spectacular!

Now we are in Romania, beginning the last two weeks of the trip. I have never been to an Eastern European country before, and so far it is an interesting mix of former communist dictatorship and new world capitalism. We are headed to the family of my sister-in-law, where we will stay in her sister’s big house. We are expecting a quiet and relaxing first few days as we decompress from all the traveling and get to know Simona’s Romanian family. From there we will take some day trips and perhaps an overnight or two to see the sights. We are in Transylvania, home of Frankenstein and Dracula, so exploring should be great fun.

I have been thinking a lot about Jay while I’ve been traveling to all these new places. So far I have learned that my identity is still very much wrapped up in his. Grief is a funny thing. It creeps up on you without warning. When you least expect it (or want it), the person you lost is suddenly right there in front of you and the sorrow just washes over your day like a flash flood after a summer rain. The clouds come in, it pours for a few minutes, then the sun comes back out and you keep going. That’s how it’s been for me on this trip. Even though Jay had never been to Tanzania or anywhere in Africa, he was still with me the entire time I was there. In the evening as I looked through and sorted my photos taken that day I would often peruse some of my pictures of Jay – before he got sick and we were happy and carefree, and then after he got sick when he was so depressed and trying to cope with what was happening to him. Brain cancer is stealthy; it creeps up on you and slowly eats away at you and all that made you who you are. When I look at the photos of Jay before and after, the change is dramatic and obvious to me.

I made a conscious effort to keep Jay in my presence on this trip, but I didn’t really have to work very hard. I brought along our wedding rings and have kept them with me everywhere I go. His happy face greets me every time I open my computer. I think about how nice it would have been to share my experiences with him. While in Tanzania I wanted to ask him about the virus that made one of the people sick one week while I was there. I would have talked to him from Africa every few days and he would would have told me how much he missed me (always a recurrent theme). Whenever I was away overnight, whether for one day or several weeks, Jay always wanted to know when I would be coming home. When he was the one on a trip, he would always deny that he was having a good time and tell me that he was just counting the days or hours when we would be back together. I sometimes (ok, often…) found his yearning to be together all the time stifling and liked that we had lives that were somewhat independent, but he never really felt the same about it. I know that if I had taken this trip to Africa with him waiting for me at home, every time we talked he would be asking me to cut the trip short and come home, and I would laugh and say of course I’m not going to do that and tell him he should have come with me.  I really miss how that guy used to smother me with his love, and wish that I hadn’t been so quick to dismiss him.

The bottom line is that he should be here with me. Jay would have particularly loved the Ireland and Romania portions of the trip. A lifelong student of history, he knew quite a lot about the countries I’m visiting. I have no idea how he was able to remember everything, but he would have especially liked seeing some of the ancient ruins in Ireland, evidence of the Norman conquest and the ensuing battles to control the island.

He knew all the details of how and when the Vikings settled in the region, and would also have enjoyed our tour of King John’s Castle.

I have been talking about him with different people quite a bit during the trip. I try not to but Jay just seems to slip into my thoughts without my noticing and the next thing I know I’m mentioning something he did or lamenting his absence because he could have answered a question that no one else knew the answer to.

In Tanzania one day when I was introducing myself to one of the women’s groups, a woman asked if I had a husband. I hesitated for a few seconds trying to decide what to say, then told her no, that I was a widow. It was the first time I said that word out loud in reference to myself and it felt really strange to say it. Several of the women I met over the three weeks in Africa were also widows and we shared a special bond that only widows understand.

I was fortunate that one of the younger volunteers I spent time with, Christopher, seemed to understand a little of what I was going through. When I would inevitably bring Jay into a conversation, he would ask follow up questions that invited me to expand a bit more than I would have otherwise. He didn’t ask me outright, but sensed that my loss was fresh and understood somehow that a grieving person needs to talk about the person they lost.  After I left Africa he sent a very sweet note acknowledging my loss directly and expressing his condolences.

In one of the churches we visited in Limerick, my brother Daniel and his wife Simona lit candles for her mother, our father, and Jay.

I had never done that before, and was extremely touched at their gesture and that they included Jay. The candle was a powerful symbol for me of both the loss and his living spirit and I was a little taken aback by my reaction (I’m not a particularly religious person but that lighted candle held me transfixed). I stood quite awhile looking at it, feeling the emotion of his loss and my love for him.

My nephew Gabriel, 15 years old, and he can’t wait to see and hang out with his Romanian cousins. During this trip he has been asking me lots of questions about Jay. What kind of job did he have, what were we doing in Germany, when did he write his stories, what kind of science did he do, what was his patent about, and on and on. Many of the questions I can’t answer precisely because I didn’t understand what he did well enough myself. Jay and I never spoke the same professional language (I don’t have the right brain for microbiology and genetics). But I appreciate Gabriel’s interest, and try my best to answer his questions, taking any opportunity to talk about Jay even though I don’t even know what I’m talking about (I’m sure Jay would be aghast at my attempts to explain anything he did with any degree of precision…).

As we enjoy Romania over the next days, Jay will continue to be with me. Before the trip I wasn’t sure how I would cope with his spiritual presence in the face of his physical absence. It turns out that everywhere I go, everything I do, everyone I talk to, something reminds me of him and I’m always saying things like, “if Jay were here, he would…” or “I remember when Jay…” or “Jay would know…”  Like the World Cup soccer tournament. Jay and I always rooted for Germany, and he always patiently explained the rules again and again to me every four years. This year I’m totally on my own…

It’s really sad and hard, and it doesn’t take much for me to tear up at the memories, or the pictures, or just the feeling of profound loss. I’m still in a state of disbelief, and can’t seem to shake it. How could this have happened?? How could he be gone?? Surely he’ll be waiting for me when I get home! But of course that isn’t the case, and I know it only too well. As I learn to live a life without Jay, I am learning what I think I already knew, that the grief and mourning will be defining me wherever I go, including halfway around the world and back again. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just a new way of life I am adjusting to.

 

 

 

It’s Wednesday and I left Tanzania last Saturday for Ireland. Tomorrow we depart Ireland and head for Romania, where I will be for two weeks. As I reflect on the last few days I am struck by how easily I slipped back into my world of privilege and affluence when I arrived at the Kilimanjaro Airport and headed for Ireland. Knowing I would be in the air for about 14 hours, including overnight, I inquired about upgrading to business class so that I could have a bed and lie down to sleep. I convinced myself I could afford the upgrade price, and so I launched myself into the land of the (relatively) rich and powerful. This means that I was greeted by name when I got to my seat, then offered a glass of champagne and an English language newspaper. I was given an IPad for the trip so that I could watch movies. There was a toiletry kit and a thick, fuzzy blanket waiting for me. The menu featured fancy appetizer, 4 different choices for dinner, and whatever I wanted to drink. When I went to the bathroom there was a toothbrush and toothpaste waiting for me, and lotion and soap. As I sat in my seat waiting for the plane to load and take off, the supervisor of all the flight attendants came to introduce herself to me and welcome me to Qatar Airlines.

(I must say that all this care and attention made me very uncomfortable. This is not really my world, and it was pretty obvious to anyone who might have been observing me. My seat was surrounded by buttons I didn’t know how to work. I was so clumsy and awkward that I spilled my champagne all over myself, and was then too embarrassed to mention it to anyone and ask for help. This meant that I smelled like a fermented beverage and I sat on a wet seat wearing wet pants for the duration of the trip.)

After dinner and a movie, I flattened my seat to a bed, curled up under my cozy blanket, puffed up my puffy pillow, put the eye cover over my eyes, and slept for a couple of hours before we landed in Doha, Qatar around midnight. The Doha airport was a sight to behold. I was there from midnight to around 2am and you would have thought it was noon from all the activity. There was a very large duty free shopping area in the center of the opulent terminal, lined with all types of designer shops for clothing, jewelry, electronics, food, you name it they had it and were enticing all the passengers passing through to come spend money. People everywhere, speaking all languages, all religions but mostly Muslim men, women and children – not surprising given where this airport is located and it is clearly a crossroads for the Middle East.

When I checked in for this second leg of my trip, I was directed to an upstairs waiting area separate from the economy class customers. I boarded the 380 Airbus on the second level and learned that I had access to the airplane lounge. I did not end up going back to check it out as it was 2am and I had upgraded for the specific purpose of getting a bed and some sleep. Again, the flight attendants were fawning over me as I settled into my seat that would soon be a bed. Then someone came and handed me a package and when I looked inside I discovered a set of pajamas and slippers. Unbelievable! When the plane was in the air I ordered breakfast and told them what time I wanted it served, then settled myself into my bed. At the end of the trip I exited the plane separately from the rest of the passengers, and took a nearly empty bus to the next terminal while all the other passengers rode a different bus just for them.

In thinking about this experience, it occurs to me that there is a category of kindness that is reserved for certain people and not for others.  The people who were so glad to welcome me in Business Class and provide for my every need were being paid to do so, pure and simple. With the purchase of the upgrade comes a certain expectation and feeling of entitlement. I am not comfortable somehow with the idea that just because I paid a little more money for a seat, that somehow I am entitled to be treated as if I were a superior person than the others on the flight. Yet I was happy to pay the price to get that extra service and privilege. But is it an issue of relative superiority that I can purchase my way out of the oblivion of economy class and put myself into the land of the ruling class? Or is it just an outgrowth of capitalism that I shouldn’t be ashamed of? I don’t know the answer, I just know that the act of buying my way into a privileged status made me uncomfortable, but I’m not sure why. There is nothing special about me, yet there I was being treated in a very special way, as if I somehow deserved it and others don’t.

It also occurred to me that there is a category of the truly rich and powerful who get such special treatment that they have separate entrances when they go to the doctor or hospital, who ride around in limousines, who never have to go into a retail store or cook or clean for themselves. These people rarely mingle with the “commoners,” except in the context where they are being served and waited on by those folks. The people serving the rich and powerful are being paid for their kindnesses and are never seen as equals by the people they are serving. How often do the truly rich, who live in the bubble of the rich, ever really know what it is like to be on the other end of the economic ladder? Are people entitled to feel superior to others just because they have more money and can afford to pay people to be kind to them and serve their every need? Again, I don’t know the answers, but the questions nag at me.

Ireland is a very beautiful country, with a very long history, and I very much enjoyed our short stay. The Irish are a friendly bunch, and are clearly used to having their country overrun with tourists everywhere. Even in cloudy and rainy weather the place is quaint, charming, and inviting. We have had very full days, but have been able to enjoy a taste of the essentials: Guinness, Irish Whiskey, Irish music, seafood chowder, homemade brown bread, seaside views and crashing waves on cliffs, and of course lots of cows and sheep. It’s been a lot of fun, and now we move on to Romania.