Gratitude…
A person falls into a hole and can’t get out. A doctor walks by and the person calls up, asking for help. The doctor throws a prescription down into the hole and continues walking. A priest walks by and the person calls up, asking for help. The priest says a prayer and keeps going. Finally, a friend goes by. The person calls for help and the friend jumps into the hole. The person looks at him and yells at him. “Why did you do that? Now, we’re both stuck in this hole.” The friend says, “yes, but I’ve been down here before and I know how to get out”.
I’m writing this blog on January 24, which in Canada is our Bell Let’s Talk Day. It’s the day we set aside to talk about mental health issues. The story I tell above is from an episode of the second season of West Wing. These past two weeks have been incredibly hard. There are all sorts of reasons why they were hard and this blog talks a little about them.
As I mentioned in an earlier blog, my uncle passed away two weeks ago. We were really close. In fact, I think we were closer than I realized. A lot of my schedule was based around visits to my hometown to be with him. So, at a very basic level, he was part of my regular routine. Especially in the last two years since he was struck by illness, connecting with him has become an activity I engaged in every couple of days. Before that illness we golfed and curled together, visited, exchanged book and movie ideas, and went to our local Legion together. Since his illness set in we haven’t been able to engage in sports together but all the rest was still part of our togetherness. Until the very end his mind was extremely sharp and I was truly blessed to have the past few years to get to know him better.
So, back to the story and our mental health day. With the passing of my uncle I find myself in the role of executor for the third time. To be honest, I don’t dislike the role as it gives me a chance to put aside emotions and get stuff done. I think it’s important to close up the administrative aspects as soon as possible so that family and friends are free to grieve without the mess of the “paperwork”. In particular for me as executor, getting the work done allows me to make time to grieve.
Sorting out a person’s life in terms of their effects is not an easy task. If I had to do it alone it would take at least a couple of weeks, maybe more. This third time as executor I once again have my mom’s help. She gave me two and a half days last week of nonstop sorting and organizing. Honestly, it was amazing. I didn’t work nearly as hard as she did! I had to take care of the gifts and willed items as well as everyone who stopped by to chat. People loved my uncle and I think it was an important part of their goodbyes to stop in but it can make it difficult to get the job done.
I am getting better at asking for help but I am still having a very difficult time accepting help. As I said, my uncle was truly loved and everyone has been so kind and compassionate in offering their assistance. At times it becomes overwhelming. And that’s really what I am feeling on this mental health day. That feeling of being in over my head, or in a deep hole.
If I had to do this completely on my own, I know that I wouldn’t be able to keep working at my paying job and doing the other things that are part of a normal life - dishes, laundry, making my bed, etc. Getting up in the morning to face meetings and deliverables on top of figuring out calls that need to be made, items to be dispersed, thinking ahead to who needs what would all become almost impossible without the aid of others. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m keeping my head above water (or my body out of the hole). Help. In a nutshell, that’s what it is. There are so many people who offer their help. In the news and online we often hear the bad side of people. We have so many examples of the things that are ugly in the world. I’m seeing the good, the brilliance of people. It doesn’t matter what the reason is, when someone offers you help, there is a kindness that gets to you. It’s been getting me through. Even on the days when I can’t face the tasks, there has been someone nearby helping to lighten my burden.
And how does that make me feel? Grateful. Over and over and over again. I’m grateful. I remember years ago hearing someone say it loses its potency when you say thank you too often. I can’t believe that because I’m saying it constantly. It’s not trite. I am truly filled with gratitude for all that is being done by others to help me. I honestly can’t say it often enough.
Thank you to everyone who has offered help. Thank you to everyone who showed up and picked up a box or dropped off a bag to the local thrift store. Thank you to my amazing friend who let me vent and talk and talk all week. Thank you to the amazing couple who took a couple of pieces of furniture and will deliver it all the way to my house. Thank you to that same couple for taking all the empties that needed to go to recycling. Thank you to the neighbour who would stop by and grab a load of paper to take out to the bin and took all the extra garbage bags out to the pickup spot last week. Thank you to the neighbour and his son who not only delivered furniture from my home to my uncle’s friend but also stuck around and figured out how to get the sofa bed out of the guest room. Thank you to everyone who said they wanted an item and then came and got it. Thank you to the junk guys who, realizing how exhausted I was at the end, pushed themselves to finish in half the time quoted. Thank you to the landlord who recommended a number of cleaners. Thank you to the friends at the Legion who let me chatter because my nerves were fraught. And thank you, thank you, thank you, to my mom who once again helped me above and beyond anyone else. Trust me when I say, the sense of gratitude that I feel has helped me through the last two weeks.
I haven’t really been sharing my winter decor pictures. To be honest, I haven’t really been taking any. I love this tiered tray and it makes me feel good when I sit at my kitchen island. My broken angel is the perfect vision of imperfect.