Making sense of senselessness

Well…

If you don’t want to read the rest of this, I’ll spare you by just giving you the spoiler in the first paragraph. There is no making sense of something senseless.

Ever.

It’s just something that you’re going to have to live with for the rest of your life.

For those of you still here, and thanks for hanging out, I’m going to tell most of you something you already know.

A close member of my family passed away recently.

My cousin, Adam, was a good kid. He was a funny kid, if you were ever lucky enough to get him to start laughing and coming out of the shell in which he so frequently would put himself. It wasn’t necessarily because he didn’t have anything to say or to add to the conversation. It just never seemed important to him to get involved in small talk with people outside of his circle.

Whereas I have never met a stranger in my entire life, Simon had a small network to which he stayed both loyal and opened. It was a very small percentage of the time which Simon didn’t want to talk to me, or didn’t have anything to say or joke about with me. I’ll never forget that about him. As I mentioned in a Facebook post, during the awkward times of clique-y high school drama crap, it was Simon that was closer to me than my brother was. After we graduated and got out into the real world, the three of us became closer, along with Simon’s younger brother Cory, and formed what I (and others in my family) liked to call the Brewster Roosters. While we weren’t inseparable, we would always just pick right back up from where we left off, every time we got back together.

He was a good man, and a good father.

And now he’s gone.

I’ve been wrestling with this since the night I found out by having my mother call me in tears and myself refusing to accept the truth. I’ve had some incredibly helpful advice from friends and co-workers. I’ve gained a deeper understanding and an increased awareness of some problems that I previously did not have. Above and despite all of that though, I have been left empty; searching for answers to a question that, at least for now, will never be answered. I have been left with anger, sadness, and a wide range of other emotions that come along with the kind of circumstances that was his passing. Still, I gain no new knowledge because of it.

I’ve since resolved myself to one bothersome truth.

There is, and will be, no solace for this tragedy.

None. No moment of clarity. No realization that things are better. No admission that it’s all a necessary and required part of “God’s plan.” Do I submit to God and realize that it’s not up to me to decide these matters? Of course I do. However, I don’t think that it diminishes me to be unable to understand why it had to be this way.

You never actually get over things like this, at least not as far as I can understand things. You just always have that void in your heart that you protect with everything you can, because having the painful void somehow feels more appropriate and right than having something or someone fill it. Because to fill that void with anything feels like you’re replacing that person who was so close and dear to you.

Lately I’ve found myself being overly sensitive to things, easily agitated, quick to anger, and sporadically melancholy. I’ve talked about answering the bell, and getting back to the best version of “normal” that you can muster. Those latter things are all valid and necessary things to do, and should well be done as quickly as possible. The former list enumerate things that I wish I could help prevent in a more effective way than the current form of improvised panacea (read: over indulgence of alcohol). I wish I had a better story for you.

I just don’t.

Not today anyway.

Today was supposed to be Simon’s birthday today…

…no clever sign off tonight…

…Simon was never really big on being flashy, anyway…

Moving Memories

April.

It’s been since April since last I have written on this blog.

I have pretty much given up on giving excuses here, because obviously I haven’t made it enough of a priority to write here. However, I feel like I have good reason for not keeping more current.

I have been living a pretty good life.

The job is going well. Even if it is sometimes a bit stressful, I love what I’m doing, with whom I’m doing it, and for whom I’m doing it. No complaints there (no, I’m not just saying that because my boss and some of my co-workers are my Facebook friends). I think what I love the most about my job is that, I get to be creative and I don’t have to worry about having to sing for my supper.

My relationship has been going better than I could have ever thought it would, and I had a pretty good feeling that it would be great before it even started. It’s going so well, in fact that..

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah…that’s a furry pillow. Those are also, according to what I’ve been told, what are known as “sham” pillows? They serve absolutely no function whatsoever, and I’m told you can’t use them to sleep on. Yet, there they sit, in all their non-functioning glory. But, they make my gal happy, so I’m good with it.

Maksim is also doing great! At his parent-teacher conference (which was not without it’s own measure of drama), the teacher had great things to say about him, and even let me know that I was able to come in and read a book to the kids! I’m sorry, but I am just pretty much over the moon about that last fact. I can only hope that his teacher is ready for me to come in there and read a book to 27 Kindergarten aged kids. I’m guessing, she’s not.

Mak Daddy’s been losing more and more teeth these days. He currently has what looks like a Tetris piece in the front of his mouth.

 

Also, my view changed recently…

GOOOOOOOOOOOOD MORNING FORT WAYNE!!!!!

You probably noticed right away that I’m no longer on the city side of the building I live in. That’s actually ok with me nowadays. I’ve had more than my fair share of the city views over the last couple years, and I’m honestly looking forward to having the sun greet me every morning. Also, it will hopefully help me wake up better, since I have no blinds/curtains.

Yesterday was moving day. It was a long and (at times) arduous task. However, I had some great help from some Mormon Missionaries that live in my building and also in the city. Great guys. Super positive and willing to help. Also, great to talk to. We had a long Gospel Discussion last week, before the move, and they were very insightful young men. But, one thing kind of struck me as we were moving things.

I have a lot of hand-me-down items from my family.

Like….a lot…

So, as these things were being once again (I counted it up, and I’ve moved 10 times since moving to Fort Wayne in 2006-ish), I finally started to question things. Why do I have all these things that came from my family? Do I need all of them? Should I just give them away? And I found that, not only could I make an interesting blog post out of these questions and their subsequent answers, but I could also learn a little bit about myself in the process.

I own these items from my family, for my family. I own them because they keep the memories of family members that have since left this world, as well as family members that are still here. Most importantly though, I own these things because they are the best reminders of the lessons I’ve learned from my family over the years.

I still have the marble top table that sits in the living room because a long time ago, when I was younger than Maksim is now, I learned that it’s ok to hide out under there sometimes. In life, it’s ok to hide out under life’s little tables and be invisible for a while. But, just for a while. You eventually have to come out from under that table.

I have the old ironing board from my great-grandma Ruthie, because I learned from her a long time ago that it’s important to be a proper gentleman. One of the things that I’ve learned about that endeavor, is that it’s imperative to have a well-pressed shirt. In order to do that, I needed to know how to iron a shirt properly. That’s where Grandma Gail came in. However, no, I will not be ironing your shirts for you, regardless of how much it’s worth to you.

I have the old mirror from the original A-Frame lake house because of my Grandpa Larry. He always used to tell me, “Christopher, never let ’em see you down, and always remember to smile.” So, I practice sometimes. It helps, even on the days when I don’t want to smile at anyone or anything. I also have David Bowie Bird because of Grandpa Larry. But, that’s a different story and blog post altogether.

I have Grandpa Joe’s old hat, not because I can still wear it. That ship has sailed years ago. I have it because Maksim can, and it’s important to me that Maksim knows that real men existed in his paternal family tree. I also want him to know and understand that it’s ok to look presentable whenever possible. For the record, he has now been taught that women go through doors first. Next up, holding the door.

I have converted the old hutch that belonged to Grandma Ruthie into a bar, because I feel like Ruthie would be proud of the bartender I have become, and would enjoy a gin and tonic made by me, for her.

I have Great Grandma Emma’s old flour jar in the kitchen because it helps me to remember countless family lunches around her and Grandpa Vic’s table as a child. I fell in love with Kraft Macaroni and Cheese at that table, and also was surrounded by love and family every single time. Plus, I still strive to one day be half the cook she was.

I have all of these things with me, and more, because they help tell the story of my life through the lessons that were given to me as a child from my family members. It also helps them to be with me along my life’s journey, even if they can’t be there in person. I hope to have some of these things with me still when I start a family, because I will want my family members who have helped shape me into the man I am today to be with me as I grow into that role as well.

Moving day is always a little emotional, and for reasons that I won’t get into, it was a tremendous relief and allowed me to get rid of some bad juju. However, it’s the times like these where I begin a new chapter and a new part of the journey that I constantly get reminded why I’m doing it.

To make those who sacrificed their time, money, patience, schedules, and so much more to make my life and my childhood a great one; feel like they have done the great job I know they have, that they are partly responsible for the happiness I am not able to enjoy, and that they are loved by me beyond words.

New room. New morning view. Same journey. I’m ready.

Until next time, keep ambition in your heart, logic in your mind, and allow yourself to continue the pursuit.