Organizing my thoughts has been a challenge in the last three months. We’ve experienced a rollercoaster of good and bad news, all seemingly happening simultaneously. Time has taken on a peculiar quality, playing tricks on my senses. As someone who thrives on events, this has put me at a disadvantage. Right now, time feels like a whirligig, speeding up, slowing down, pausing, and then skipping ahead.
Part of me is still stuck in May, where the possibility of becoming a father filled me with hope. Now, in July, we’ve lost that chance. I’m thrown back to June, where the excitement of welcoming a new life filled me with joy. But suddenly, I’m back in July, sitting in a waiting room, dreading the news my wife is about to deliver.
July 17th, a day I won’t forget. We were supposed to discover the gender and health of our baby, whom we affectionately called Poppy. We had so many plans and dreams for Poppy, but they were shattered in a heartbeat. The doctor’s words cut through me as I sat there, trying to be strong for my wife. I switched into a mode of cold practicality, needing to protect us both.
I don’t need to take notes of what the doctor is saying, I will take his words with me as I do in any situation where I need to take control and manage. I have them memorized, they are etched in my brain, as other critical information has been, it’s a curse, a skill, a superpower, whatever you want to call it. I go into crisis management mode and I shut my feelings down so I can function, so I can be there for others, to help them through the pain, the loss, the grief.
Then, a flash, and I’m watching my grandmother pass. She was a strong woman who influenced my life for the better. Her strength inspired me, and her lessons shaped me. She gave me strength when I needed it most.
In a blink, I’m back in 2011, sitting on a dune in the Persian Gulf, reflecting on my life’s journey. I’ve traveled, seen friends come and go, and learned to let go of the worst and embrace the best.
And now, here I am, realizing that the people who are most important in our lives are not immortal. The universe has a wicked sense of humor, and sometimes it’s just plain mean. But that’s not the universe’s fault; it’s ours for thinking, even for a second, that we have any semblance of control over our lives.
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