A Prayer For Her
To her,
I thought a lot about you today.
Today I read over a case huge case. It concerned bank fraud. It told the story of 62 year old man, working his way through life, taking on one challenge at a time, trying to create a story he could be proud of. He talked about growing up in a small town, working his way through high school, and earning his way through college. Graduating and working as a grunt man to pay off loans. Taking the risk of starting his own business. Laboring through nights and weekends, giving up his social life and putting his life on hold in order to create a product. His business grew, he began employing more and more people, until the ball was rolling and he could finally rest. He married, and bought a little home, investing in it bit by bit, saving what he could. Him and his wife worked their way through parenthood, earning enough to send their children through college, and finally were back on their own. When they realized that, at the end of all this, they still had some money they could save, they invested it...their entire life savings, in a trust. A trust that happened to be involved in a huge Ponzi scheme. They lost everything.
As I read their statement, I nearly cried. I could feel how broken this man was. How he had lost something so precious, and all he could do was beg for someone to be accountable. I could feel how angry he was at the unfair circumstance. I could feel a sense of hopelessness. And still, he was putting up a fight.
I have seen you go through a similar battle. You have been stripped down to a circumstance that is anything but fair...and there is no one to account for it. You are the one who has taken on your health, your employment, your lack of employment, your empty nest, the errors in the paths of others. You have taken on many burdens.
It is clear that it hasn't been seamless. I can't say that you handled it with an air of ease, and that I haven't worried about you along the way. There have been times where I felt more afraid than I have ever felt before. Afraid that your spirit would break, or that your body couldn't take it.
I can say however, that this is the strongest fight I have ever seen.
You have conquered the demons that come with the doctors orders, you have drowsily emerged from the surgeries, you have had your neck braced, your back broken. You have had your trust crushed, and your hard work dismissed. You have had half of your home abandoned for "the next chapter". And through this and more, bitterness has never reached the table. Instead, you have never stopped picking up the phone, the ingredients, the puzzle pieces, in a brave attempt to shuffle things around until they work again. You haven't stopped showing that you still have a lot of love in you.
I am in awe of you, little woman.
And now here you are on the first journey of what both you and I hope to be your next chapter.
My four hour road-prayer is this:
When you leave our driveway, acknowledge how well you prepared your suitcase of work...you are equip. Even without the papers.
When you look in the rear view mirror, please make sure you aren't backing into anything...and then recognize how beautiful you are.
As you leave town, get excited to leave.
When you merge onto the highway, roll down the window as much or as little as you like... you're the only one you have to accommodate. Bring a little of this back with you.
Get lost in that book on tape. If it's bad, put in the CD I made for you before I left for college (and remember it was made for you when you listen to the lyrics).
When you drive by Boulder, think of dad, and know he's thinking of you. He always is.
As you enter the mountains, take in the air, live in how lucky we are and the knowledge that this is what is real... forget the petty parts of your past.
When things seem long, recline... let your back be bossy for once.
When you get bored, stop in a station and buy a pepsi and some lays... when I think of you, often what comes to mind is you laying out by a pool with these in hand.
Relish in the silence that comes with not having dad deciphering a map next to you, colin playing crappy rap, or me complaining about having to eat real food.
Enjoy being alone, enjoy starting fresh, enjoy having something to look forward to.
you are a superior human.
and if that's not enough, you can always look down and acknowledge the 6 missed calls I've left you today.
