Getting Pushed Off the Cliff of Life

Or, How I Quit My Life to Survive Losing My Parents

Sometimes to change your life, you need to leave the old one, sometimes you’re forced to.

I’m not going to lament losing my parents. Two months before Mom died from lung cancer I turned 49. I turned 50 shortly after my Dad died from Lou Gehrig’s disease. A mere eight months time-lapse between them. 

But let’s not talk about the sadness of losing my parents. Let’s say instead how blessed I am to have had them for so many years. Too many friends lost parents long before they turned seventy. Let me say how blessed I, and my family, was to see them through the end of life. 

I will add that losing my father devastated me. His sense of humor never waned throughout the pain of ALS. I’m the original Daddy’s Little Girl and long ago gave up trying not to be her.

I needed to change my life.

Crazy-making (ie., -fun, -trying, fun) Mom is gone. My best friend Dad is gone. My HR job is consuming. It’s in a company run by a [insert adjective here] nemesis I did not see eye-to-eye with. Listening to him again pontificate about how wonderful he was and brilliant …. That he makes so much money because he’s worth even more and.… I carved fingernail arcs into the palms of both hands trying to keep from crying out, Shut up!

I knew that something had to give. That I had to leave or cave because he was never going to stop being who he was. But where to go? What to do next? What life did I want to lead? 

Mom Dying

We spent ten days nursing Mom through the end stages of death. During that time, I was the kid she constantly wanted around. This caused us much laughter because throughout my life, Mom and I tried each other’s patience—constantly. But there it was. I slept on the floor in the bedroom with her and Dad. The two of them separated into twin beds for the first time. With the other bedrooms occupied by siblings, I’d start out sleeping in the living room. Mom would stir or Dad would murmur. I’d drag my blankets and pillows in and curl into the corner at Mom’s feet. Sometimes, when she was agitated, I’d crawl into the narrow bed with her and hold her in my arms.

I did this because as I prayed for guidance, the answer I continually received was, Love Your Mother. 

With my heart open and old pains surrendered, I loved my mother.

That kind of openness during loss drains you.

Dad Dying

Then, we lived the slow devolving loss of Dad. 

Dad dwindled from a horrid disease shrinking his once huge and powerful frame and in on himself. Even at 76 when he was diagnosed, he was strong and full of everything good in life.

It wasn’t ten days of loss with Dad, it was fourteen months of slow and painful loss. We lived with the erosion of Dad’s independence as he became less able to do things on his own. Dad never lost his dignity. 

Our father knew when it was his time. With clarity a couple of nights before, he said, I love you, to Jackie and me as we tucked him in. Talk about ripping another hole in our hearts.

Dad arranged for a haircut, for us to call friends to come, his brother…. There was a list. The next day he was gone.

Back to “Real” Life

Returning to work the following week was not conducive to healing. I remain thankful to the friends who were kind, making me laugh, helping in a multitude of ways. The nemesis did not. There were months of praying, seeking guidance. Praying the answers would come. I looked down this path, gazed down another, threw a feeler out there. Maybe a question somewhere else.

Jumping Off the Cliff of Life

Taking a leap of faith is not always a bad thing, you know. Especially when a really good friend is pushing you over the edge of a great big chasm into something new.

I have friends who do that. Some of them jump in after me, which is always nice. But mostly our paths, our cliffs, are different. So they push, I go, and as I’m falling, I’m thinking: WHAT THE HECK?

My feet hit land. I start walking and this brand new path I’ve discovered starts to feel pretty good underneath me.

Friends—those true people who have nothing but your best interests at heart—are great catalysts to make us do new things. They’re the ones that keep us from seeing all the bad that could come out of some new attempt and instead focus our eyes on the dreaded sameness that will be our lives if we don’t change.

Sometimes the Push is More a Gentle Suggestion

Like this time when I was positively stuck in my life. I had no idea how to get myself out of the mire of loss and moving again. Both parents gone, a dear uncle, a dear friend, another dear friend on the verge of passing from this life. May, into June, stepping into July … it was a tumultuous summer. And I was stuck.

I tried to keep my old life operating. After all, I’d had it for several years and was happy with many parts of it.

But things kept falling to pieces. This suddenly stopped working. That took a plunge to the deep end. And the other thing? Well, I’ve no idea where it went.

From the mouths of the sweetest, Jackie, came the quiet suggestion. “Why don’t you come and stay with husband and me for a while until you figure things out?”

What Did That Cliff Look Like

The idea percolated for a very short time because as soon as that door was opened. As I began thinking of the possibility of spending recovery-time with my sister, my life changed. The bottom of the ugly chasm I’d been facing started to raise up to meet me. Hard, beautifully green turf appeared right there at my toes and plans fell rapidly into place. 

I slept. For the first time in years, I slept through the night. I woke up clear-headed, ready to attack the days. 

Peace descended as I thought about this plan. My shoulders were squared and strong again. Regroup. Time with Jackie, et al, in a place I love. Hmm. Dwell, ponder, debate. From the moment she said it, it was the first thing to make sense to me in a year.

I gave notice, told friends, dismantled my apartment life. Smiling more, I slept well for the first time in years. Within two weeks I had figured out what I was doing. I knew how it would happen, what I needed (bless my brother and my friends) to get it done. Wow did things change.

God had given me clarity about this choice and enabled every step of it to go smoothly and in a blessed way. Taking the decision out of my hands and placing into prayer told me what I needed to do next in my life.

Lessons From Being a Grown-ups Nanny 

Or how second chances should always be taken … for changing your life.

Lessons Learned

• Experiencing a road trip from Pennsylvania to Montana with my brother. I’d do it again.
• How great my relationship is with Jackie. Especially compared to when we were teenagers. Ouch to monumental battles. Why didn’t our parents send us to military school? Separate military schools.
• Airedales are crazy and fun to live with.
• How to cook for three people—including meat and poultry that I haven’t eaten in twenty years.
• What participating in a Bible study meant to my growing faith.
• Hanging out with old friends, making new friends.
• Horses eat a lot. I don’t ride due to an abundance of stitches I’ve had from past attempts.
• How to cross country ski. Again. I learn this lesson every time I put on my skis.
• The joy in caring about, daily, someone else’s needs besides my own.
• That it’s possible to make a killer latte without a fancy machine.
• The discipline of writing daily—a continuing habit. 

The list could go on but what I want to convey is that being the Adult-Nanny was what I needed and more than what I thought it would be when I set off on the adventure.

I learned that caring and supporting someone who is out in the world working could be rewarding and enlightening. Jackie usually works three days a week, on those days I would have supper ready when she came home. The nanny supports the person who is out in the world earning the money to keep the nanny supplied with what s/he needs to run the house. The nanny has many self-jobs—in my case it was pursuing my writing.

I Purged, I Wrote, I Purged, I Wrote

Are the two books ready for a publisher yet? No, but they took the most solid form they have had in the ten years since I started them. When I need a break from Cosmic Cold Cases of Pittsburgh, I pull out those novels and attack them. The stories, the characters journeys taking on greater depth, rounding them out. I have coffee with them and they tell me their stories—with conviction and deep passion.

Was my move financially sound? Nope. I had saved enough money for vacations that I compiled that into one account and gave myself a budget to live on. 

Was it logistically logical? Nope again. Pittsburgh to Red Lodge, Montana, stuff stored willy nilly with friends and family. Excess stuff given away. 

Did my decision save my soul? Oh, you betcha. 

Distance made the hearts grow fonder and when I returned to Pittsburgh it was a road trip east with Alex. Who knew he’d miss me when I left? I sure didn’t. 

More healing, purging, the agony of an extended job search, the joy of the people I met along that search. Life twists and turns and God fulfills the questions in His funny, delightful, soul-provoking ways. Our job is to keep moving forward, to listen, to dive in when the answers present themselves. Most importantly, the goal is to never ever be immobilized by fear.

From the moment that Jackie pulled me into the cliff of six months with her, my life has continually improved. My blessings abound, I haven’t felt stuck, the life I returned to in Pittsburgh with Alex has been of goodness. My friends here … how does one woman get to have so many varied and wonderful friends?

There aren’t any new cliffs in my line of vision. Maybe because I’m not feeling stuck right now. Life is good and full of challenges and change.

What I want to know from you is, Any cliffs I can push you from?

**

Read: Change and Growth