South Korea Ferry Disaster

When the unimaginable happens, it is common to ask "Why?" "What if?" "What next?"

Watching the media repeatedly air stories about incredible disasters and accidents, it is understandable that after about a week of constant exposure to the never ending details of these stories that people begin to feel detached and almost numb to the tragedies that have occurred.

 

I'm not saying that the depth of the tragedy isn't felt by others because it is and many immediately respond with aid and help.  I think it's more that the disasters are overwhelming, just too much to take in or process. Two recent tragedies, the sinking of a South Korean ferry killing over a hundred people and the missing Malaysian Airlines flight which disappeared about a month ago over possibly the Indian Ocean while carrying 239 passengers and crew members, are the kind of disasters which instantly spring to mind as incidents that can cause media burnout. 

 

But when the media moves the focus of the story from the bigger explanation of how the accident happened to the more intimate personal story of those victimized by these accidents, the fragility of life and our connections to each other immediately comes to the fore.

Our common bond of vulnerability is exposed.

 

Yesterday the Wall Street Journal ran a touching story about a South Korean husband, Choi in-soo, and his painful efforts to try and understand the raw reality of losing his wife, Choi Soon-bok, in last week's ferry accident.  This is the kind of story that hits me.  When the person is still in shock and at the same time is trying to describe how it feels to discover that a loved one has died and they will never see that person again.

We all hold on to the last precious moments.  The last picture. The last text message.  The last voice message. The last email.

"I'm sorry I'm traveling without you," Mrs. Choi told her husband by phone when the ferry departed on Tuesday evening.  "That was the last I heard from her," Mr. Choi said. 

 

Here is the link to the Wall Street Journal story:  on.wsj.com/1mBI1gn  

Choi in-soo shows a photo of
his wife, Choi Soo-bok, on his smartphone.
Kwanwoo Jun/The Wall Street Journal

Family Time

It's that time of year in my family. 

 

Time to celebrate the birthdays of my parents who are in their 80's.  My Mom and Dad's birthdays land on the calendar exactly a week apart so in the last few years my siblings and I have started celebrating their birthdays together in the interest of harmony, world peace and all that is holy.

 

 

We know we are blessed to have our parents still with us and we definitely don't take it for granted.  Not for one minute.  But sometimes it can be tricky in making sure that each birthday receives the same amount of attention, if you know what I mean.  The healing part of this family get together is that it's great to have a happy reason to gather and just straight out enjoy ourselves which usually means retelling childhood stories, imitating each other and a lot of jokes.

 

One of the presents that was a huge hit was a box of Ole and Lena fortune cookies that one of my sisters had bought at a Scandinavian store.  I had to Google the names of Ole and Lena because I didn't know who they are or why they are funny but apparently they are the central characters to jokes made by Scandinavian Americans particularly in Minnesota, Wisconsin and the rest of the Upper Midwest region of the US.  The humor is rather folk and really silly.

 

Happy Birthday Mom and Dad and we all wish you many, many more!!

 

Mom &Dad Celebrating Their Birthdays In Party Attire

My brother, Tom, and sister, Theresa

My sister, Sheila, and brother, Tom

 

My sister, Maureen, and me in a selfie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond His Clutter

Oh my goodness I can so identify with the story that I am sharing with you today.

 

It's a story titled, 54 Drawers, and it's about a daughter who thoughtfully and lovingly is going through the drawers and drawers of file cabinets containing huge amounts of paper her recently deceased father stored in the office of his house.

 

In my case it was and still is the papers that my late husband left in his office.  Over the years, I have made a lot of progress and thrown out lots and lots of boxes containing everything from old bills, old checkbooks, handwritten notes, pictures, and receipts to zillions of stories printed from websites along with multiple copies of stories my husband beautifully wrote while working as a prize-winning science and space reporter for The Washington Post.

Thomas O'Toole hard at work at his Washington Post desk

If you have never found yourself in the position of going through a deceased person's belongings please let me tell you that it is not the kind of activity that happens quickly.  No way.  It is dicey territory.  Don't let anyone tell you that it is the same as when you say you are going to clean out your closet, desk or any other room in your house.

 

It takes time, especially if the things belong to someone you cared about.  It is an unpredictable, emotional and even intimate journey, just as Olivia Judson so eloquently writes in her story, 54 Drawers,  recently published in The New York Times.  For those of you readers who have found yourself in the situation of going through someone else's belongings after their death, I hope you agree with me that initially you think you are ready for the task and that it shouldn't be too difficult.

For me, it quickly became evident upon going through the first box that it was going to be harder than I thought.  His things took me back to him and I was back inside my husband's head reading his written thoughts, completed or not, and some pieces of paper were out of the blue surprising, revealing some things about himself that we had not ever discussed.  He may have even forgotten that he wrote these thoughts.  I'm not implying that I uncovered any deep dark secrets but just that I came upon things that he wrote in the emotion of a moment and may have wanted to keep private.

Throwing away some of some husband's stuff felt like I was disrespecting him even when it was just an outdated piece of paper or a report that was not of any importance.  I knew that I wasn't doing anything of the sort but it certainly felt that way.  Then there were other times when going through his stuff felt like a game.  I would read whatever it was I had found and stare at it for awhile wondering why he had kept it in the first place.

" Is there something of importance here that I'm missing?" I would ask myself.

And then I realized that the answer to that question was yes.  I was missing him.

Please read Olivia Judson's story, 54 Drawers, by clicking on the link below: 

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/18/54-drawers/

Strength Through Sharing

Sharing my stories, and those of others, can entertain, offer strength and inspiration and sometimes minimize the isolation that is felt in relationships or personal crisis.  I share to bond, to reach out, to reveal that I am vulnerable just like you.

No one knows when someone else's story will unexpectedly touch your life and help you gain a new perspective on a subject that you thought you knew enough about but you really didn't.  Someone else's words can bring new understanding to the life and death issues of physical and emotional survival and help you see things differently.

 

My son's girlfriend works at The James House in Richmond, Virginia and through her and this YouTube video below that a friend recently posted on Facebook I am becoming knowledgeable about the amazing work they do in their counseling, bringing hope to the lives of people who are emotionally, physically and sexually abused and/or stalked. 

 

The steady and important work of The James House, a non-profit organization (their services are free and confidential) which this year is celebrating its 25th anniversary, is to heal and to empower and to offer an independent and safe future. 

 

In this video you will meet a thoughtful and articulate woman named Samina Abdullah who is a community organizer at The James House.  Samina is a down-to-earth kind of person who is wise beyond her years and acts as an agent of change for her part of the world.  Or as she describes it, "I don't feel responsible for the whole world.  I feel responsible for my own little bubble."  Don't you love that idea?

 

Her thought makes me realize that I can be overwhelmed by what is happening in the world at large when all I really need to do is to focus on my little part of the globe.  We can start in your own communities, find our passions, whatever they are and follow them.  Do what you can do and do it the best way that you can.

 

When in doubt, just take the next small step:

 

 

A Friend's Good Bye Letter

Last week a childhood friend of my father's died.  They had known each other since they were in grade school and met each other while playing on the black top when they were about seven or eight years old.  They both went on to attend the same high school, playing basketball, and later both went into the insurance business working for different companies.

 

 

Over the years, they stayed in touch with each other as best they could.  They both worked very hard while trying to raise large Irish Catholic families.  My father and mother had six children and my Dad's friend and his wife had eight children.  Our families didn't really mix, not because we didn't want to, but more because the ages of the children were different we didn't live close to their neighborhood and there basically was just too much stuff going on to try and coordinate anything.

 

When you have known someone for as long as my Dad and his friend knew each other it is hard to let go.  My Dad knew that his friend was not well but didn't know how sick he was until he received the news of his friend's death.  One way to keep the person connected to you is write a letter to the person now deceased.  I don't think this is morbid.  In fact, I think it's very healthy.

 

The person who died is someone who had an important place in your life.  The person is physically gone but the friendship is still there.  Sharing memories -- whether it's through writing a letter or talking to others about this person -- is a healthy way to process your feelings of grief and to establish  to yourself that the friendship or perhaps love in other cases, is still there and will always be.

 

 

Now my Dad is writing a letter to his friend's widow and their adult children about his special friendship with this man and it is bringing back a lot of great memories for him which he hopes will also be a comfort in the days and years ahead as they and my Dad work through their loss.

 

Don't ever unestimate the importance of a note written from the heart.  After my husband died, I received cards from people who worked with my husband or were friends with him and some wrote notes to me about how they knew him and their experiences with him.  I saved those cards because those notes were like little pieces of a puzzle that was my husband.  Sometimes the stories caught me by surprise and other times I only knew the story from my husband's point of view and the handwritten note reveal a different side of him to me.

Let me be honest, sometimes the stories weren't always the best but either way, the notes were part of dealing honestly and openly with our feelings of grief and trying to find comfort in reaching out and sharing.
 

Freedom & Bravery on Memorial Day

The smell of charcoal lighter fluid has been in the air in my neighborhood this weekend which means that grilling is not far behind.

 

Cookouts and parades are just two of the many ways we Americans mark the holiday of Memorial Day, a day when we pause and remember the bravery of the Americans soldiers who are thankfully still with us and those who are sadly deceased because without them we would not have the freedom to enjoy such leisure and peace.

 

American flag displayed at
Vietnam Veterans Memorial

I recall as a teenager when the draft was still on and the family of one of my best friends posted the military draft number of her brother on one of their kitchen walls.  We saw that number and we were scared.  We were scared for him and the possibility that his number would come up in the draft and he would be called to serve in the Vietnam War.

 

Seeing that number brought the Vietnam War home for all of us every day and even as young as we were, we knew the seriousness of the situation and that other families across the nation were being called upon to make the same sacrifice.

 

My friend's brother was lucky and his number was not called but others were not so lucky.

 

Memorial Day is a day to remember, pray and salute the endless sacrifices made by so many so that we could live in a country where freedom and democracy are preserved.

 

If you have an American flag, put it out today and proudly display it.

 

If you have a hero in your family, tell and share the story of what he or she did to bravely serve and defend the United States.

 

Take a moment to remember and be thankful for our strong and resilient veterans and their families.

I know I will!

 

Photo by AFP Getty

 

 

Socially Yours

Stories are constantly written about why we should strive to unplug from our computers, ipads, Smartphones and other electronic devices but I read a work colleague's Facebook post yesterday and was reminded of how amazing social media truly is.

 

I work with a young guy named Aaron Knights and he was at the incredibly tender age of seven when his beloved father died from cancer at the age of 38.  Think about that for a minute.  Think about what you were like when you were seven.  The idea of losing a parent at that stage of your life is profound and pretty scary, right?

 

They say that when you have a child you sometimes end up reliving moments of your own childhood in the process of raising your own child.  Now, Aaron's daughter is seven years old and Aaron said she is asking Aaron a lot of questions about his Dad and she wants to know things like: What was he like? Was he funny? What would you two do together?

 

Aaron added that recently he was putting his daughter to bed and they were talking about what happened at school when spontaneously, in only the way a seven-year-old could, his daughter directly said to him, "I wish your Daddy didn't get sick and die.  I wish there was no sickness in the world. . .ever!"

Aaron said he tries to be as honest with his daughter as he can (I would be crying) but he only has so many stories that he remembers of his wonderful Dad because he was so young when his Dad died.  He wanted more stories for himself and for his daughter and he posted on Facebook a simple query about how he misses his Dad every day and asked people who might have known his Dad to share their memories with him and his daughter.

 

Social media does offer vast human connections which can be impersonal but are also immediate.  At last count, Aaron received more than 75 responses to his question about his Dad which to me is amazing!

 

Without Facebook, Aaron would have had to sit down and write emails or letters or made telephone calls and then waited for something to arrive in the mail or someone to call back.

Talking about a loved one who has died is good for everyone who knew the person because the conversations and the sharing of memories continues to connect you to that person you lost.  You are also passing along or even trying to recreate that person so that others who never had a chance to get to know the person feel in some way that they too do know this loved one who meant so much.

My son and I always talk about his Dad, some of the weird things he would do or say and also some of the wonderful and treasured things he achieved as a writer and a reporter.  I talk to my friends about him too and they sahre their stories with me.  It just makes us feel better and we never tire of it.  He may not be with us physically but he will never leave our hearts.

Aaron did an extraordinary thing by posting his request for stories about his Dad on Facebook.  He was opening himself up to stories he might never have heard before and even though he wanted those stories, he knew it would be painful to hear them because it would make him miss his Dad even more.  But he chose to get a dialogue going and help his daughter understand what her grandfather was like.

Sometimes you should plug in!
 

White House Market Day Is Back!

The farmer's market near the White House is now open for business on Thursdays and I'm so happy that fresh fruits and veggies are close to my office for the picking.

 

 

I'm so proud of myself! I took these pics myself!

There was almost a party atmosphere as I arrived at the market today around 1 pm.  When I walked to the market area which is one block from the White House (www.freshfarmmarkets.org), there were almost 200 people shopping and sampling local produce.  People were spilling out of their office buildings, shaking off the cold weather, happy to be outside and become reaquainted with the farmers and other vendors they hadn't seen for months.

 

Browsing through the stalls today, I saw the season's freshest selections of kale, spring onions, baby cucumbers, leeks, beets, sweet potatoes and even some tomatoes.  I was really looking for strawberries but it is not yet their time.  I was told that it might be another week or two for ripe and juicy strawberries because Washington, DC had a bit of an unseasonable cold snap.

 

 

 

 

I came to the market for the opportunity to support local farmers and buy fresh produce but I also made a wonderful connection.  I was at the FRESHFARM Markets table looking for information about the vendors when a woman named Terry started chatting with me.  She asked if she could help me and I told her about Cry, Laugh, Heal and how I write about working through grief by trying to take care of yourself through exercise and eating healthy and generally staying resilient and positive.

 

She said she loved the name of the blog and she had experienced a time of laughing that turned into crying and then laughing again.

 

Terry said she was at a relative's funeral and this relative happened to be the kind of person who really liked playing jokes on people and making people laugh.  The person who got up to deliver the eulogy at her uncle's funeral walked to the front of the room to start talking.  Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your point of view, the speaker's zipper on his pants was unzipped.

People in the audience tried to make signals to him that he needed to zip up his pants and in the process of signaling, people began to laugh.  But then in the laughing they remembered they were at a funeral.  And then they started crying a bit but then they also couldn't stop laughing because the speaker was oblivious to his zipper being open.

 

EXACTLY!!  That's what's so great about the FRESHFARM farmer's market.  Every week is an opportunity to meet new people and share our stories about crying or laughing or healing.

 

Today I'm so glad to have met Terry and know that the farmers' healing fruits and vegetables are just a couple of blocks away for me for the rest of the summer and early fall!

Rock on farmers!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

Playing With The Moon

Playing With The Moon
By Amir Jutt

You invited us into the world of science and made us love it as you did.  You taught us that writing simply and elegantly is not as easy as you made it look.  You passed on more to us than you will ever know.

For all of the stories you told before anyone else knew them, for all of the stories you wrestled out of other people's brains and for all of the stories that flowed from your ever constant fingers on the keyboard, this picture is for you on your special day.

If God is allowing anyone in heaven to play with the moon, I'm sure it's you.