The unplanned life

I have been in counselor mode now for too long. So long, that I find myself giving advice where my opinion wasn't asked. What an irritation this must be for those around me. Everyone around me has been so graceful because they haven't called me on it, but I imagine that fuse is getting very short.

Earlier this week I caught myself short of breath trying to give a friend a pep talk about going to the gym. I'm doing the gym thing and, apparently, I'm an expert on it now. In my mind, of course. As I sucked air back into my lungs I had to ask, "What was your question again?"

"I asked if you ever tasted Coke Zero before," she said, with a hint of agitation.

(I have. I like it. My brother Chris got me going on it. But to a long-time leaded Coke drinker, it's not a replacement for the real thing.)

It's been hard for me to put the counselor hat away because it's the one thing that has truly helped me through this mess. I guess I've felt if I could provide some insight to my suffering, it might help others see life in broader terms. All the positive feedback has only encouraged me to step out and "counsel" some more, for better or worse.

My buddy Danny loaned me a book called A Grace Disguised. He used a portion of it at the memorial, and thought I might find more gems in it. It's written by a man named Jerry Sittser, who lost his wife, daughter, and mother in a car accident. His writing is very familiar to me and I get the sense he wrote this book with the very same intentions I had when I started writing notes about my grieving.

The one thing I will take from this book is it's not a book about recovery. In fact, in his epilogue, he admits "life will never be good again." That might sound depressing, but he counters with his life has been good since he wrote the book. His point, I think, is you don't recover from this type of loss, you don't regain what you had. You end up with something different, something unplanned.

The unplanned life -- that's his point, that's how life really is. The idea of getting married young, growing up with your kids, watching them get married, growing old with your wife, enjoying your grandchildren ... that's a fairy tale for people in our position. There's nothing wrong with people who get to enjoy that ... don't let me steal your joy if that's you. But I think, maybe, people who have the blessing of living their lives as they (mostly) planned them often end up missing on some of the salty wisdom, taking what they have for granted. Life comes at us so incrementally, I think it's almost impossible not to build up some expectation life will always be as good as long as we have nothing to interrupt it.

But my life has been interrupted by dark and vivid colors. I now know real pain, the kind that cannot be felt without first having experienced something of real value. I know what it's like to take life for granted, even at less than a minimum of what most Americans would consider a quality life, and I'm loathe to take it for granted again. I refuse to let the unplanned life dictate to me things I should be able to control -- who I am, what I'm about, what I represent in my words and my actions.

I think that's the thought I've been riding these past few weeks as I pursue many ambitious personal goals. Losing Jess has forced me into countless hours of introspection and I'm beginning to see myself in all the areas where I fall far short of who I want to be. Instead of spending my time in despair, I've found hope in the work and the sweat of becoming a better person, one who does not want to go another day taking for granted what I have remaining.

Bear Bryant, the great college football coach, used to teach all of his players to live every day as if it were their last. That's probably not an inspiring message to a bohemian or a nihilist -- they probably do live every day as if it were their last, on terms that would inspire no one. But to me, as trite and as hollow as that message used to sound to me, is really hitting home.

No more taking a day for granted. No more dismissing my flaws. There's nothing left for me to take for granted. I've now fully embraced the unplanned life.