A bittersweet farewell

Sometimes you have sleepless nights. I’ve had many of those lately, but I don’t find it too distressing because it’s given me many chances to watch the colors of the sky change as the sun rises. On a few occasions I had the fortune of watching the sunrise in the mountains – absolutely stunning. It’s also given me time to process my thoughts, which I have a sneaky suspicion is what has caused all those sleepless nights.

Do you ever find it tough to know what exactly to say or write? Maybe it’s how to best approach your superior at work about an issue, maybe it’s telling your friend something they may not want to hear, maybe it’s sharing difficult personal news, or maybe it’s coming up with the ‘best’ way to share exciting changes in life. Life is full of opportunities to communicate, some more important to others. So how do you craft your message? When do you say it (or write it)? How do you say it? What if it comes out wrong? What if you don’t say it all?

I struggle with this all the time. But most recently I’ve struggled with what to say when it is the last time I get to talk with someone. That someone is Louie.

I’m fortunate to have had the time to think about this. Sometimes people are gone (whether from this earth or your life) all too soon. But I’m not sure that has made it any easier.

Let me take you back to the spring. Louie is my grandfather, and he was undergoing radiation treatment for cancer. Spring break rolled around, and I made a last minute decision to fly home for a quick 48 hours to help out my grandparents. I looked forward to getting a break from school and just hanging around their house, I had visions of having deep conversations about life and memories, but the reality was that he just didn’t have the energy to talk. And let’s be honest, I didn’t really know what to say. Only as I got in the car to head to the airport did I realize the potential significance of that moment. I drove through the rain with mistiness in my own eyes. What should I have said? What could I have said? Was that the list time I would see him or chat with him?

I’m more of a ‘do-er’ than a ‘say-er’. But living nearly 1,000 miles away can make it difficult to do anything that shows you care. I continued my weekly phone calls. Chatting with Louie was nearly impossible because the radiation had damaged his hearing. I still looked forward to those Monday evening phone calls because I knew my grandma would pass along all my mundane daily activities as well as the more exciting pepper of the week – like a conference in D.C. or Josh getting a new job.

My grandpa kicked cancer for a second time, so things seemed to be looking up. That is until the end of June. My mom was getting ready to head my way for a long weekend, and of course I had lots planned. A few days before the visit, I found out my grandpa had been transferred to in-home hospice care. The organization, employees, and volunteers have been a blessing of support and comfort for my family – most importantly my grandparents.

After sleeping on it, it was decided that plans needed to change and I needed to come home - probably to see and visit with Louie one last time. The 45 hours at home were amazing. Most everyone in the family (to my happy surprise) was able to make an appearance. We were loud, as usual, but I think all the noise and company was a nice change of pace for Joyce and Louie. We were afraid we would wear them out, but they were both in good spirits. We each got to spend a little time with Louie. Between naps he was alert, and when you thought he was napping, he was actually listening. He even let the cat out of the bag about a new baby joining our family in just a few months :)

The time to say goodbye crept up all too quickly, but for me that is probably for the better. You see I like to mull things over – you know revise, rewrite, revise, rewrite – before I commit or speak. However, now I’m seeing that some of that revision could censor out raw emotions or original thoughts. I chatted with him one last time about those seemingly mundane activities, but for someone who can no longer do those things, they aren’t boring at all. I kept it simple. I love you Lou. Oh and I’ll call you on Monday. He wished me safe travel like always.

At the airport, I felt sad. The rest of my family was still hanging out for the day at my sister’s swap meet for her boutique Meow. And I was headed home. On a delayed plane. To an empty house (Josh had summer camp). At least Emma would be there.

An airport can be a terribly lonely place. I remember standing in the middle of the walkway just staring at all the people, my eyes filled with tears. Once I realized I was blocking traffic, and thirsty, I headed to the seemingly endless Starbucks line. I was that lady with watery swollen eyes. I’m grateful to the sweet worker who gave my tea some catchy name I no longer remember.

Weeks passed and I had the fortune of chatting with Louie a few more times. The last time we ‘chatted’ was on his 88^th birthday. Louie passed away three days later. It was completely bittersweet but we know he is in good company at home with many of his loved ones who preceded him in death.

This past weekend we invited others to share in celebration and share stories of his life. And although this wasn’t the last time I will ‘talk’ to Louie, it symbolically was. Oddly enough I found it so easy to figure out what I wanted to say, and therapeutic to say it out loud.

Some of you may know our grandfather as Mr. Tiemann or Louis Tiemann, but to us he was just Louie. During our feisty teenage years we may have called him Lou-ass and as I matured I began to call him Lou. I couldn’t really tell you what he did for his professional career- although this morning I woke up thinking 2-dollar bills and silver dollars, it must have been something with money - or volunteer careers. And only after hearing all of you share your stories can I really appreciate the impact he had on his community and those who lived there. But I can tell you he was an engaged grandfather – the type who would check in regularly. And as he could no longer check in, we assumed the role of checking in on him and Joyce.

As his time on earth grew shorter, I started to reflect more on what will keep my memories vivid. And I discovered there are lots of seemingly small things that will keep his spirit alive each and every day. So I’d like to invite you to listen along as I share my thoughts with Louie:

Louie - I’ll miss you everyday, but I’ll think of you at 6:30 when Wheel of Fortune comes on, because I know it was your absolute favorite. If we were lucky we would get a quick shout out at the start of the show to check out what Vanna was wearing. Otherwise we knew not to call during that time because no one would answer.

I’ll think of you every time I wear shorts, which isn’t often, because you never wore them either.

I’ll think of you if I ever drink a Zima, because one time after mowing the lawn you put one back thinking it was flavored water.

I’ll notice birdhouses for sale or display - because those were your thing.

I’ll think of you any time I volunteer for the community or work to make it a better place because you continuously served on committees and worked to make your communities safer, more beautiful places. You instilled the drive and value for hard work in to our parents and that precious trait has been passed along to our generation.

I’ll continue not to litter because you taught me not to be a litterbug and to “Keep Belleville Beautiful”

When I listen to National Public Radio I’ll be reminded of the comforting low noise of talk radio in the house. Who knew I would grow to like it.

And if I get to hear a radio broadcast of the Cardinal game, I’ll know that you would be listening too. I’ll especially be reminded of those glorious summer nights in Sparta when you would be sitting on the porch and we would be playing outside or chasing after lightning bugs.

I’ll hold my plastic yard flamingo dear because for some odd reason that was your signature gift. Perhaps you got a deal as they were going out of stock – or out of style.

I’ll cherish those redbird twist and ties you brought out nearly every baseball post season because you had boxes on end. Surprisingly I was able to gift all of them away every time. But don’t worry I always saved one for me.

I’ll think of you on Sundays when Josh watches golf because us grandkids could never be sure if you were awake or asleep with that one eye half open. Even until the end we had to watch what we said in front of you, because we knew you heard every word.

I’ll think of you (and Joyce) whenever I do dinner and a show, because you showed us how it’s done. Kiddie cocktails and yummy food followed by the Muny or Looking Glass Playhouse.

I won’t eat sardines, but I’ll be reminded of your afternoon snacks (straight from the can) in Sparta when I see them. Although salty, they really bumped up your calcium, essential fatty acids, and vitamin D intake. Maybe I should give them a try…..or not.

I will strive to host theme parties filled with $5 eggs, games, costumes, belly dancing renditions of South Pacific, or midnight golf cart rides. Let’s be honest, you and Joyce hosted some of the best parties and sleepovers of our child and adulthood. We always had a great time with Louie and Joyce.

I can thank you and Joyce for instilling in to my dad the need to dress to impress or for success. There was a point when I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without a belt. But you were always dressed to impress, even when mowing the lawn – collared shirt, linen or khaki pants, and white leather shoes. You had a signature style, but I recently learned some of the papers perhaps didn’t always agree with your fashion sense. As for your seal of approval, we knew we really nailed it (fashion, hairstyles, or anything in life) if you gave us the stamp of “that’s hot”.

I’ll think of you every time I eat ice cream, especially vanilla with sprinkles, because I blame you for getting me hooked :)

I’ll think of you as I finish this training program, because you have been cheering me on all along. You always did.

And Louie I know you appreciated the love and care that Joyce provided you these last couple months. Watching the two of you from close and afar provided a true testament to commitment, partnership and unconditional love, and it has provided me a model for how to care for and treat others.

If you could have said a few words on your way out, I imagine they would have involved an endearing “Gotta Go” and perhaps a little wave.

And so Louie, while all of these things will remind me (us) of you, mostly we’ll think of you just because.

We love you Lou.

The selfie stick came in handy for a group shot.

 Life is perfectly imperfect. So if you’re finding trouble with words, for whatever reason, push yourself to go for it. We humans opt not to take that risk for fear of rejection, causing others discomfort or feeling uncomfortable ourselves. Take comfort in knowing that communicating what you want or need may be uncomfortable and it may not come out perfect, but that’s okay. You put it out there and the world could be a better place because of it.

Until next time.

Testing limits

Roller coasters or other rides that make your stomach drop? No thanks. Sky diving? I'll keep my sky time as a mode of transportation from one place to another. Bungee jumping? No way. So what do I find exciting? Zenning out during meditation, yoga or relaxing walks on the beach. Cliche I know, but such a nice change of pace from how I spend most of my days.

I think it's safe to say that I would not consider myself a thrill seeker. All that adrenaline rush is for the birds (or crazies), or so I thought.

Josh and I hadn't had much opportunity to do anything fun or new this summer, so we decided to take a day trip to the U.S. National Whitewater Center.

The grand entrance. You can't help but feel like a pro.

The website provides a nice overview of what kinds of activities they offer, but you can't really appreciate it until you get there. The space is absolutely huge and it really seems like a place that people come to hang out and get active. There are dry and wet opportunities - from hiking and climbing to kayaking and whitewater rafting. If you're up for a challenge and some activity, they've got you covered. 

The buzz of energy sucked us in, and the people watching was great. I think I called it an adventure seekers amusement park. We had an hour to kill before our whitewater experience, so we decided to get familiar with the space.

Selfie on the bridge over unsettled water

Along the way we found a mini obstacle course that we were both able to successfully complete. The subtle exertion (and humidity) to climb the rope nets and walk along logs left us shaky and sweaty. Just in time for the water fun.

Challenge #1 of the day

This was a controlled whitewater course, meaning it is man-made and not natural. It exposed us to various levels of intensity of rapids, and I learned that level 4 is the highest you can navigate. Just another interesting nugget - Niagra Falls is considered a 5 and you don't kayak or raft anything like that.

It was so exciting to tackle the rapids! We got wet - thankfully, because it was hot - but fortunately we didn't lose anyone. Later in the day, there was a series of rescues of rafters who went overboard. Based on how tired I was at that point, I'm wondering if people were just really tired and didn't have the energy or strength to brace for the rapids. Anyways, we had a great guide who taught us about whitewater rafting and safely navigated us through the course. I would love to go back and watch some pros navigate the gates in their kayaks.

Part of the rapids course

Next up lunch. It's amazing how these activities didn't feel like work or effort in the moment, but we were definitely left feeling thirsty and in need of food. As I mentioned earlier, people literally just hang and watch others raft, climb, or zipline. There are several restaurants and biergartens that offer nice views. The food options were a southern meets vegetarian flair and the drinks included lots of local beverages.

After rehydrating and refueling, we decided to take on a suspended ropes course. Josh chose the river course, the highest difficulty. Go big or go home, right? The course started off simple enough, but then I realized I was walking on cables the thickness of my finger. And when I looked down, I realized I was suspended several stories above the ground. The only thing keeping us from falling was our balance and the safety harness - good thing I'm short and had started taking ballet again. Once I processed all of this information, my heart started racing. Whose idea was this? That racing heart is part of what we all know as the adrenaline rush. But what is really happening in the body when we get that adrenaline rush?

So this is the course we used to dangle over the water.

 Some of you may remember back to science class, but I thought it would be fun to share a quick review. Humans have the fight or flight response, and this is what prepares us to take action. The Autonomic Nervous System helps control body functions that happen without us having to think about it. This includes your heart and breathing rate, how wide or narrow the pupils in your eye are, digestion of those foods and drinks you have, and a few more things. When your body or mind becomes highly stimulated from stress of a dangerous situation or even stress of bad news, extra amounts of a hormone known as epinephrine are released. Hormones are messengers in your body, and this hormone prepares your body for action by increasing your heart rate and blood pressure and triggering your liver to release stores of glucose (or energy). The availability of extra energy and oxygen prepare you to respond to whatever happens next. This adrenaline rush may come from extreme activities like jumping out of a plane, but it can also happen with daily activities like speaking in front of a group.

Once I realized my body was responding to a previously subconscious fear I had about being up there, I was able to use that energy and focus to safely finish the course. I think this also helped me better appreciate the scenery. I also appreciated the strength and grace my body offered as I crossed each of the 8 sections. With each step I conquered my fear a bit more. I'm pretty sure Josh felt the same way, although he did offer to alter the course to finish early. Was it for my sake or his? I'll never know :) I did have one slip while tightrope walking over the river, but I was able to pull myself back up and continue on. And surprisingly enough, the slip didn't scare me, or at least not any more than I already was. I realized how safe I felt with the equipment. Finishing the course was a huge sigh of relief and celebration.

To finish things off, we decided to go for a 'relaxing' zipline. I'm not sure I envisioned zipline to be relaxing. I mean you're cruising through the air, and remember I can go without rides that make my stomach drop. Once we started zipping, I realized it was actually quite relaxing and I was able to enjoy the rest of the ride and take if one final view of our playground.

We certainly are no Olympic-trainees, but we may or may not have pretended to be awesome as we recounted our day's activities. When it's all said and done, we were pretty awesome. We tried lots of new things that pushed our bodies and minds to new limits. And we survived them all. Other than feeling exhausted - I don't know if it was the heat, long day, physical activity, multiple adrenaline rushes, or any combination above - we felt accomplished. 

The point is, you never know what you're capable of until you try it out. While this learning experience came from physical activity, it also caused me to pause and reflect about the endeavor of moving across the country and trying lots of new things. Thanks to the adrenaline rush for actually giving me the opportunity to slow down and see things a little bit clearer.

How might you test or push your limits?

Until next time!