Merry Christmas
For all my good intentions on making it a great blog month, one event on December 5th changed them all. I'm typically not one to be overly sentimental (at least not in public) and I usually scoff at messages that run along the lines of "Hold those dear to you close this holiday season." However, a near tragedy has left me more grateful for family and health this season.
Leaving a hockey game the night of December 5, my mom and grandma were hit by a car. It's not the news you expect to hear on an early morning phone call while traveling out of town on business. Loaded up on pain-numbing narcotics, my mother called to break the news. After assuring me she was okay, and uttering the phrase "I'm at peace" several times, I hung up with her and called my dad to get the scoop. She shared that she was banged up with broken bones, stitches, staples, and a concussion, but typically people who use the phrase "I'm at peace" are in more dire straits--the type of situation where they've learned the end is near and they need to come to terms with their fate. Thankfully, it was the painkillers putting my mother at peace rather than her pending demise. The verbal relay earned a chuckle from my father and his assurances that everything was going to be okay. There was nothing I could do, so I was instructed to carry on and not worry about anything until I was home.
Easier said than done, but I did what I could to focus on work and do my job. I'm grateful to work with a team of individuals that care and console without prying; but I was also very grateful to hop in my rental after that last meeting and begin the long drive home. I've only cried once since it all happened--on the phone when my mom broke the news--and sometimes wonder where this strong woman came from. Somewhere along the way, I started tucking away the tears. It may come back to bite me someday, perhaps in the form of a psychotic break, but for now I am relieved that I am able to be strong and steady for my family.
Since the accident, we have had a lot of support from friends and family. I am thankful for the nucleus of individuals who have checked in via text, email, and phone call. I am thankful for the people who understood and respected our request for privacy and space. In the midst of our trauma, we needed time as a family to figure out how we would move forward together. It is interesting to observe people who offer support and really mean it vs. those that do not. I will offer some advice based on my experience. The Golden Rule states that one should treat others as themselves. The Platinum Rule is treating others how they want to be treated. Support does not always mean surprising people at the hospital. Or insisting on delivering a meal. Or calling the injured party. There will be a time and a place for that, but it is not necessarily in the weeks immediately following the trauma. Getting mad because you learned the news from someone other than the family does not serve anyone's purpose, except perhaps your own. Heaven forbid time be spent with injured family members instead of informing the world of the situation via calling, tweeting, texting, etc. If you genuinely want to support someone, ask what you can do, and listen to their answer. Offer to check in periodically, in case that initial answer changes. Do not suppose to know what people may need in their crisis. And do not assume to know what people are thinking. While you may mean well with your words, assuming that I feel x, y, or z about the situation, and that I "must be thinking" (fill in the blank) only annoys me and makes me hope you won't call to bother me anymore.
I am pleased to say that both ladies are now out of the hospital, one at home and one at a rehab facility. It could have been much worse. A bigger car. A faster car. A transposition of who was standing where. The broken bones will heal. The wounds will mend. It is a long road to recovery, but this time next year, it will be a memory rather than a reality.
So...from my somewhat cynical but slightly reformed holiday heart...hold those dear to you a little closer this holiday season.
Merry Christmas.
Leaving a hockey game the night of December 5, my mom and grandma were hit by a car. It's not the news you expect to hear on an early morning phone call while traveling out of town on business. Loaded up on pain-numbing narcotics, my mother called to break the news. After assuring me she was okay, and uttering the phrase "I'm at peace" several times, I hung up with her and called my dad to get the scoop. She shared that she was banged up with broken bones, stitches, staples, and a concussion, but typically people who use the phrase "I'm at peace" are in more dire straits--the type of situation where they've learned the end is near and they need to come to terms with their fate. Thankfully, it was the painkillers putting my mother at peace rather than her pending demise. The verbal relay earned a chuckle from my father and his assurances that everything was going to be okay. There was nothing I could do, so I was instructed to carry on and not worry about anything until I was home.
Easier said than done, but I did what I could to focus on work and do my job. I'm grateful to work with a team of individuals that care and console without prying; but I was also very grateful to hop in my rental after that last meeting and begin the long drive home. I've only cried once since it all happened--on the phone when my mom broke the news--and sometimes wonder where this strong woman came from. Somewhere along the way, I started tucking away the tears. It may come back to bite me someday, perhaps in the form of a psychotic break, but for now I am relieved that I am able to be strong and steady for my family.
Since the accident, we have had a lot of support from friends and family. I am thankful for the nucleus of individuals who have checked in via text, email, and phone call. I am thankful for the people who understood and respected our request for privacy and space. In the midst of our trauma, we needed time as a family to figure out how we would move forward together. It is interesting to observe people who offer support and really mean it vs. those that do not. I will offer some advice based on my experience. The Golden Rule states that one should treat others as themselves. The Platinum Rule is treating others how they want to be treated. Support does not always mean surprising people at the hospital. Or insisting on delivering a meal. Or calling the injured party. There will be a time and a place for that, but it is not necessarily in the weeks immediately following the trauma. Getting mad because you learned the news from someone other than the family does not serve anyone's purpose, except perhaps your own. Heaven forbid time be spent with injured family members instead of informing the world of the situation via calling, tweeting, texting, etc. If you genuinely want to support someone, ask what you can do, and listen to their answer. Offer to check in periodically, in case that initial answer changes. Do not suppose to know what people may need in their crisis. And do not assume to know what people are thinking. While you may mean well with your words, assuming that I feel x, y, or z about the situation, and that I "must be thinking" (fill in the blank) only annoys me and makes me hope you won't call to bother me anymore.
I am pleased to say that both ladies are now out of the hospital, one at home and one at a rehab facility. It could have been much worse. A bigger car. A faster car. A transposition of who was standing where. The broken bones will heal. The wounds will mend. It is a long road to recovery, but this time next year, it will be a memory rather than a reality.
So...from my somewhat cynical but slightly reformed holiday heart...hold those dear to you a little closer this holiday season.
Merry Christmas.
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