Grief

“Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.”

-- Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), author

Leo Tolstoy wrote, "Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."  Leo was one of the greatest writers of all time, but this quote evidences little understanding of love.  If we take what he says as truth, not just a fiction, then the reverse must also follow in that only those who suffer greatly are capable of loving strongly.  I also have issues with the last part of this quote, "but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."  Did he actually do any research on the loss of the so very dearly beloved?  I think not.  What he espouses is what everyone would like to believe.  It's what we tell those who experience great loss, hoping it eases the loss they feel.  Problem is, the loss is still there, buried.  Objectively, grief exists.  Grief is a fact.  Subjectively, grief affects everyone differently depending on their personal perspectives, feelings, or opinions.  They may not show it, but it's there nonetheless. 

My grandmother died when I was young.  I took it hard. as most young people might.  Between being young and now, I was hardened toward death in the military.  Death happens.  People die.  Spiritual philosophies explain death as moving into another plane of existence, another reality, the next great adventure.  You can't escape death; when it's your time to go, it's your time.  General George S. Patton would advise against dying in battle for your country but, rather, to make some other poor, dumb, bastard die for his.  I like the way George thought.  But that is dying in war, not in some hospital bed because your body is failing, or being scraped off some roadway.  Not that it really matters.  To those who love us and will miss us, dead is dead.  As for those who are dead, they have already moved on.

In the most recent post on my blog, I shared that my father had only recently past away.  I didn't cry at his passing, though I did prior to that, seeing him as a shadow of his former self and knowing he would not want it.  He couldn't speak, but he emphasized as much by waving his finger "no" when I notified him his beloved friends were coming into town to visit mom.  He wanted no visitors to see him like he was.  I didn't judge him.

The morning he passed I stood bedside and said a few words to him.  Things he would now understand.  He looked like he was sleeping.  I hadn't kissed my dad for years, but I kissed him on the forehead; a last, gentle kiss, and then I left.  I would not see him again.  I didn't cry.

“But grief makes a monster out of us sometimes . . . and sometimes you say and do things to the people you love that you can't forgive yourself for.”

-- Melina Marchetta, author, educator

Our relationship was rocky for the past few years.  I blame myself more than him.  His mind was a victim of chemo for previous cancer, which he defeated.  His mind was balancing what he was prior to his cancer and the future first stroke with what more he'd lost in health after the second and third.  I was angry with myself that I couldn't cope gracefully with watching him fail.  He was supposed to be more, always more, even to the end, and he wasn't.  I embrace that my disappointment was in myself, more than in him.

My eyes well up, but I haven't truly cried.  Mom and I are standing firm, though I don't know what she does in private.  What I do know is that Leo Tolstoy, in my humble opinion, doesn't have a clue about grief.  I also know that what doesn't kill you also doesn't make you stronger.  Some of us morph into something we're not.  Some of us bury our grief.  Some of us become less than we are.  We think we're stronger because we wear a fragile facade in order to move forward in life.  We're not.

One day, soon, I will break down.  It will build up inside of me and simply overflow.  I will cry because I miss him, not because he died.  Dying is a part of our continuing journey.  I will keep raising a glass and wishing him well, wherever his next adventure has placed him.  I hope he is reaching for the stars.

One last thought about Tolstoy's quote:

The tears I feel today

I'll wait to shed tomorrow.

Though I'll not sleep this night

Nor find surcease from sorrow.

My eyes must keep their sight:

I dare not be tear-blinded.

I must be free to talk

Not choked with grief, clear-minded.

My mouth cannot betray

The anguish that I know.

Yes, I'll keep my tears til later:

But my grief will never go.

-- Anne McCaffrey (1926-2011), author

The Passing of My Dad

Domenic Joseph Villari (1930-2019)

There are ways we prefer to remember those we love, those who are no longer with us, those who pass on to their next great adventure.  I like remembering my father as a good looking Sicilian who married my mother.

Mom was from Taylorsville, Mississippi; dad from Providence, Rhode Island.  They met in Texas after he joined the Air Force during the Korean War.  He never made it in-country and spent the conflict repairing gunnery cameras for the bombers returning to Japan.  When he left the service he applied for a fledgling federal organization and never heard back from them until we had all moved out to sunny California for a chance to open a photographic equipment repair shop in a camera store there.  NASA was a bit late with an offer to run their photographic section.

California was still a land of opportunity for those who knew where the money was, and it was all over the place, in real estate.  He and mom made "modest" investments and, after many years of rising State taxes, sold most of their holdings and moved back to the South, to Pass Christian, Mississippi, where they bought properties in Timber Ridge.  They finally finished their final home (after losing it prior to moving in, to Hurricane Katrina) on Second Street, near War Memorial Park., a couple of blocks from the beach.

He loved to cook, to make canes and walking sticks, and to watch the stock market and invest.  He was never truly in his element unless he had a project.  His latest ongoing project was in support of the regional animal shelter to which he gave much money and supplies over the past years.

After several strokes and winning a battle with prostate cancer, he was still a force to be reckoned with.  He could be a belligerent and kind.  He would arm-wrestle a bid down to what he wanted, and then give a bonus when the job was done well.  Each stroke changed his personality in ways which we all had to accept.  He would alienate those he would normally cherish.  I think the cancer meds began this personality disorder and the strokes just exacerbated it.  What pissed him off the most was that he couldn't do the simplest of tasks without asking for help.  He hated asking for help.  But, in the end, he fought the good fight.  Life didn't beat him down, the final massive stroke did.  He was almost 89 and bragged that he had outlived all the men in his family by double.  It occurs to me that I've almost accomplished the same feat.

He is survived by his wife, me, his grandson,  granddaughter and two great-grandchildren.  Dad will be cremated, next week, and his ashes spread with those of his beloved pets, as was his wish.  Where he felt all of his old friends had died before him, he made a few "younger" friends here in the Pass, many who called him "dad" as a greeting.  He will be missed.

There is much I never told my dad. Things I did in the service and couldn't talk about, philosophies I knew he wouldn't understand and disagreements with his which I kept to myself.  I never really told him I loved him until he couldn't answer me back; until he was lying in the hospital bed and I would stroke his hair and kiss his forehead.  He knew, and I will miss him.

Life Is That Easy

“Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.”

-- Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), statesman, politician, lawyer

Every morning, as I'm dragging my butt out of bed, I thank God for another glorious day in paradise and another chance to excel at whatever challenges God may see fit to throw my way. Will I succeed in those challenges? Hope for the best, and be prepared to embrace failure. Failure is how we learn to succeed. We learn from what happens. We tweak the process and try again. We prepare to teach others from our experiences. The reason I don't get too upset about my failures is that tomorrow is another chance to excel in life; another chance to make things right. What is passed is past, so why fret over it?  The future is not written, so why be concerned about those things which haven't happened.  The present, the now, this is where we are and all we need concern ourselves with.  Today is when we review the lessons from yesterday, revel in our successes or plan to do better, or make necessary amends in preparation to move forward.  Always be prepared to move forward, because tomorrow is another gift; another chance to excel in this glorious life.  After 65 years I have found... life is that easy.

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”

-- Marthe Troly-Curtin, author

Failure is simply an opportunity to learn.  Failure to understand how you succeed can also lead to an opportunity to learn when you fail from your lack of this understanding.  Revel in your success, but understand how you succeeded so you are truly prepared to repeat the process.  Learn to enjoy the time taken to understand your success.  Life is that easy.

“Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.”

-- Steve Maraboli, author, speaker, behavioral scientist

I have found the greatest failures of my life have been those people who are perpetually offended.  No matter what I do or say they continue to push the agenda of that chip on their shoulder.  They either refuse to be happy or refuse to let others be happy.  These are relationships we are all better off getting shed of before divorcing ourselves of them becomes a sticky wicket.  These are people who don't require significant confrontation to ignore.  Smile and shake your head knowingly, then just walk away, just let go.  Make these people part of your history.  Life is that easy.

Dalai Lama XIV has said, “Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.”  The choices we make all come with consequences.  Good choices have good consequences, bad choices have bad ones, and it, therefore, stands to reason that questionable choices have questionable consequences.  We are in charge of our lives and, therefore, we are in charge of our happiness, as well.  Make good choices for your life.  Understand that your choices and actions can be the impetus for others to do better for themselves; you mentor by example, so be a good one.  Life is that easy.

“It isn't what you have or who you are or where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about it.”

-- Dale Carnegie (1888-1955), writer, author, lecturer

Each morning, I wake up thanking God for another glorious day in paradise and another chance to excel in my life. Waking up is a gift. For me, waking up is enough. What trials and tribulations await me are of little consequence compared to the gift of another day and the chance to see what will come of it.  Piss people off by being happy.  Get over yourself and you will find getting over others to be so much easier.  Being happy is contagious.  The late actress Audrey Hepburn once said, “The most important thing is to enjoy your life, to be happy, it's all that matters.” It is important to understand that our happiness matters not only for ourselves but, also, for the happiness of those around us.  

We make our life harder than it needs to be.  We live our lives in anticipation of the next burden.   A burden is only a burden until it becomes second nature, a task to be accomplished.  We tend to be masochists, waiting for life to beat us down instead of waking with the intent to seize the day and roll with the punches.  Live to be happy and be happy in life.  Life is that easy.

Happiness is just another choice in life.  We can choose happiness or misery.  Choosing to be miserable would seem contrary to life.  It requires poor thinking on the part of those souls who embrace the concept of misery.  The only sane alternative is to choose to be constantly happy.  Sometimes I'm so happy I seem like a man possessed.  Mark Twain says, “Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination.”  I challenge everyone to be so damned happy, all the time, that you seem possessed of some malady so infectious that others can't help but smile and wonder what you know that they don't.  What should you know, that they don't?  

Life is that easy!  

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world renowned, Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research. Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteers as lead Chaplain and Chaplain Program Liaison, at the regional medical center.

The Mind Is a Cruel Prison

“Soon you will see that there is no good or bad, only an interpretation of what is. You will realize that your whole experience is based solely on your interpretation of external events that are completely neutral. You will understand that you have nothing figured out and that all the things you thought you knew are only imaginary constructs of your mind. You have so much talent and potential inside you that is not coming through because your mind has imprisoned you.”

-- Mateo Tabatabai, author

What happens when you live a full life and come to the end?  What if you approach that end, fearing the judgment of the omnipotent, only to find the sentence has already been read... and you're not dead?  What cruel irony exists when one finds hell in a living body with a mind which imprisons them in a world so much different than they once reveled in?  A world where understandable speech escapes them? A world where they feel abandoned, alone, and tortured by the very angels sent to assist them.  Is this what we mean when we speak of "hell on earth?"  Is it a massive "stroke" of bad luck, or might it be a lesson in disguise... for someone?

I look down at my father, suffering the aftereffects of his third major stroke, and I wonder who he pissed off, knowing he wasn't any saint but still wondering why he deserved this particular fate.  Then, I think of my sainted grandmother, who suffered the same fate, knowing she certainly didn't piss anyone off.  I look at the genetics of it and absolutely know I have not been a person to which God might show favor, not comparing my life to that of any saint of which my father would even have more in common.  I wonder what I would be thinking, were I in his place.

“Blame has one function and one function only: to deny responsibility of your present moment because it is too painful to realize you are in fact responsible for the hurt you are feeling.”

-- Mateo Tabatabai, author

"Blame has one function and one function only: to deny responsibility of your present moment because it is too painful to realize you are in fact responsible for the hurt you are feeling."  I'm not sure my father would understand this, or wish to own it.  Perhaps, in the end, it will make some sense to him.  For my part, I realize it all too well in the present.  I see myself lying there in fifteen or twenty years, maybe less, God forbid.

I wonder how I will handle it.  With grace and a sense of decorum?  A modicum of dignity?  Will I be even aware of how I will act, or care?  When the life you have enjoyed is taken from you, what is left?  I wish my father had enjoyed philosophy as much as me.

“When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge.”

-- Tuli Kupferberg, poet, author, singer, cartoonist

I have lived a life full of changes. I've lived on the Pacific coast, the eastern mountains and the great Northwest coast of Washington State, and in the deserts of California and the Middle East. I have seen the best of mankind and the absolute worst. I have shaken hands with the great, the near great, as well as crippled beggars. The moment I think I understand, I realize I understand nothing at all. Socrates said it best: "I am wiser than this man, for neither of us appears to know anything great and good; but he fancies he knows something, although he knows nothing; whereas I, as I do not know anything, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I appear to be wiser than he, because I do not fancy I know what I do not know."  I would trade none of the changes I have experienced for a lifetime of stability.  Change is, after all, the only constant in the universe.

We live our lives and become used to a certain pattern we mold around us.  When that pattern is changed we tend to become upset that the rhythm of our life has missed a beat.  But, what do we do when the rhythm permanently changes from our comfortable genre to something horrifying to our senses?  What if our mind is locked away in a body that refuses to cooperate?  Do we simply give up?  Do we fight?  And what if we sense, somewhere in our corrupt computer, the fight is an exercise in futility?  Then what?  Maybe, instead of fighting a losing battle, we may find we're better off reprogramming the computer.  If the world you enjoyed is gone, try finding joy in the new world you've been forced into.

“Seeing is not believing; believing is seeing. You see things not as they are, but as you are.''

-- Eric Butterworth (1916-2003), minister, author, inspirational speaker

If "depression is living in a body that fights to survive with a mind that tries to die," then the total realization of self must be living in a mind that survives in a body that tries to die, right?  I would like to think, if I had the cognizance to understand my world was not going to change, not anytime soon, I would find the strength to "suck it up" and move forward with what was available to me.  I'd like to think I would, in the words of Dylan Thomas, "rage against the dying of the light."  For someone with the inability to move, eat, or communicate, perhaps happiness might be found in the beauty around my circumstances; things like the warmth of the sun, the sounds of rain, thunder, and music, and the smells of flowers and the food I might never taste again.

Faith tells me this body is simply a containment vessel for our soul to occupy while we traverse this particular life in a physical dimension.  Perhaps, when we become trapped in a "failing" vessel it's simply because we haven't learned to let go of this existence.  Fear of loss can be as significant as fear of the unknown.  Some people seem able to simply close their eyes and move forward into what comes next.  Wouldn't it be nice to simply say, enough is enough?

I will go to the convalescent home today, and I will try to be selfless.  I will hold my father's hand while he sleeps and I will pray he either finds some semblance of normalcy or finds some peace after 89 years on this earth.  This is all I can do, as his fate now lies with God.

Never let a day go by that you don't tell those around you how much you love them.  Always revel in each and every day you are gifted life.  Find the beauty and goodness in everything.  Most of all, dance like everyone is watching and you simply don't give a shit.  This is happiness.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), "Do not go gentle into that good night"

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world renowned, Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research. Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteers as lead Chaplain and Chaplain Program Liaison, at the regional medical center.