A New Kind of Normal

My mom uttered the words to someone on the phone as I stood nearby, “We’re all getting used to a new kind of normal” regarding the death of my father a few years ago. I found them to ring true then, and over and over again.

Just last week my children were all home visiting and I had a quiet moment alone baking cheesecake for my daughter’s birthday. I had music playing and the realization hit me suddenly. One child has a career in Cleveland, one is away at college, another is about ready to launch from the nest next fall and I’ll be alone. I thought to myself I should call my dad or talk with him about it when he comes over later for the party. Then it hit me: he’s not alive. I can’t. And so I started to cry softly. After a little while, I wiped my tears and decided to move into the celebratory side of the day.

I’ve come to realize that grief comes in waves. My sister’s good friend, whom had lost a daughter to leukemia was incredibly strong and said she chose to face it head on, much like facing waves at the ocean’s side. There are times when they are overwhelming and crash into her full force but she could see them coming. In time, they recede and there is a time of rest between the waves of grief. Her analogy was that if she turned her back and did not see them they could crash into you and take you tumbling downward. She chose the former.

About three weeks ago my friend Lanny Edwards was in Hawaii with Jen Handy. They had a wonderful trip until Jen had a ruptured brain aneurysm. She was flown to another island, put into a medically induced coma in hopes of saving her life. Lanny mentioned that in the last moments of life, dying, she gave a gift to her family. You see, her dad had a horrible decision that no parent should ever have to make. In the end, he did not have to do it. After a very long fight, Jen Handy died on February 15, 2012.

Here are some more thoughts from Lanny about Jen that I've summarized:

         She was most proud of her family, this included an entire host of people and at the head was her father, Dave Handy, whom adopted he adopted when he married her biological mother, Letha. Later Jen’s family grew to include a second mother named Ronda who gave her a sister and two baby brothers. Jen adored her four nieces and  a very special cousin/goddaughter, Aspen.

         Jen was a wine connoisseur.

        She had a great work ethic and was employed at Safeway's corporate offices as a Director of Pricing. She was amazing with numbers and spreadsheets.

        She was a loyal St. Louis Cardinals fan.

        She was also a fan of the UFC and of Urijah Faber, known as the California Kid.

        Jen was a beautiful woman.

I did not personally know Jen. I don’t know her family. I can’t even imagine how hard it is to lose a daughter. My friend Elaine says there is nothing worse. I cannot pretend to know…

I do know that grief is very real. It comes in waves. I know it feels unbearable and unrelenting and never-ending. I know that the bystanders want to help but can only stand there watching as those who battle the grief are in the midst of it. And we can whisper words of love and concern and support as a new kind of normal without your loved one comes to fruition.

So from Lanny’s pen, to your eyes, Jen Handy’s family, you are not alone. We celebrate your daughter/sister/friend’s life. We are sorry she has left us and know she will be missed greatly.

Note: For those of you who have read previous blog postings I am doing the Escape From Alctraz Triathlon in memory of Anamarie Neveau on June 10 for TeamCindy.  It is an organization raising money for The Brain Aneurysm Foundation. If you would like to donate, please go to here.

To view this on my blog go here.