The Worst Day of Someone Else's Life

The first thought I had when I woke was “Today is going to be the worst day of someone’s life. But it’s not mine.”

We buried a man that day. I knew from the minute I woke that the depth of suffering I would witness would astonish me. I’d truthfully never seen anything like that.

The only funeral I had attended before that was the one for Charlie’s grandmother. It was a modest affair, she was an old woman with few friends and a very small family.

I missed my own grandmother’s funeral. I was in Hawaii.

But here I was, at the service of a man I’d known only by association, a good friend to my father-in-law. Through the service I thought mostly about his daughter who is not much older than me. I thought about losing your father. About losing my own father.

This is the worst day of her life so far, I kept thinking.

I have a friend whose kid has neuroblastoma and my friend writes frequently of the worst days as he experiences them. When they go in for treatments, he knows they’ll be tough and the poor boy will suffer and watching your kid suffer is the worst kind of Hell.

A Life Well Built

At the beginning of the month I wanted a transformation. I wanted things to be different and by different I meant better. I wanted to be better.

I spend a lot of time wanting that.

I’m a continuous improvement junky and I’m always looking for jump starts, challenges, commitments I can make that will make me better. So at the beginning of June, in search of a transformation, I began the 30X30 challenge hosted by my friend Khara. I signed up for the 30 day Blogathon hosted by Michelle Rafter. I also put myself back in the pool.

Thirty days to transform. Go!

It’s Day 24 and Khara wants us to write about a mistake we’ve made. I made a mistake by planning a transformation.

Building a Life

I am looking for a transformation.

Girls on the Run -- Kalamazoo

Anyone who’s been to Clemson Road before knows I am a change junky. I crave it. I used to travel frequently which satisfied it but now I can feel myself, daily, taking stock of my surroundings, evaluating my circumstances, and seeking transformation.

I could start a new fitness challenge.

I could paint Hollie’s bedroom.

I could go get a real job.

I’ve agreed to participate in the 2013 WordCount Blogathon. It means blogging every day for 30 days. Get ready, subscribers, a blitz is coming! I agreed to it because I think even this blog needs a transformation.

For over a year now I’ve been writing about Life on Clemson Road, an incredible journey from our old cushy life in the Upstate to our new home, new jobs, new friends, in Columbia. I’ve written about visiting my Nana every week and I wrote about her passing. I’ve written about what I’ve found on the internet and how it made me feel. I’ve written about what I know how to do and whether anyone will or should hire me to do it.

I’ve alluded to but haven’t exactly written about my older sister and I’ve mentioned but haven’t dwelled on some challenges I’ve had with fitness and body image.

I have tried to be honest about myself while motivational about what I’m doing here.

“There are three ways to build a life,” 

I told Charlie yesterday. “What you are, what you do, and what you have.”

Digging for the Pony

Taking a positive perspective on things has never been a problem for me. I have been a glass-half-fuller my whole life. 

When we were kids my dad used to tell a story about two sisters. One was an eternal optimist, the other a pessimist. These sisters were supposed to be me and my younger sis.

One day the dad puts the two girls in separate rooms. The pessimist, we’ll call her Kristen, in a room full of toys and the optimist, we’ll call her Kasie, in a room full of manure.

It’s important to note here that my sister and I are not really the caricatures the story makes us out to be. We are both governed by a tremendous logic that tries to honestly weigh the odds and make calculated decisions.

That said I am more likely to think things will turn out okay and Kristen more likely to expect imminent disaster.

Anyway, after an hour the father returns