Grieving Ryan

Eight months later, I'm thinking of him as much as ever. As much as when he was here, as much as just after he left.  I walk by Subway, his favorite meal out. I remember the covid months when there was a "Now Hiring" sign in the window and I hoped it would be his first job.   I pass the frozen pizza case at Costco, or the pallet of apple juice. I pause, internally reaching to load my cart with his favorites.  We go out for a walk and I pass the church parking lot where I took him for his first driving lesson. I remember how he grinned and chuckled when I suggested it would be better not to run into the lone light pole in the middle of the empty lot. I captured that grin, the last photo I have of pure authentic joy.  I see kids on their way to the high school and wish he was with them. The career tech building where he went for the program he loved is on the way to the water. I hoped it would save him.  The two lane road where he practiced lane changes, agai...

I have wonderful clients who often say affirming things to me.  Recently one said, "Karen is my model for patience."  It startled me. Patience is not a trait I think of related to myself, and yet I can see why she sees it.  She's known me as a consultant, a facilitator, a holder of space. In that role, patience is required, so it is a thing that I do. More specifically, it is a thing that I have learned to do, a skill I can put on like a part of a uniform to do the work that I do. It is not an innate part of my personality. I wasn't born patient. I arrived in the world passionate, demanding, insistent and stubborn, determined that the truth be told, that action follow truth, that the right thing be done.  Over years, through painful lessons, I came to understand that the right thing isn't always the best thing, that truth is elusive and chameleon. Truth is individual and joint at the same time. I discovered that caring for people is far more about hearing them and...