Personal holidays and the confluence of events....

It's interesting for me how events, whether at a personal level or history level, seem to be channeled towards certain dates.

For me, it's March 16, more so once tomorrow arrives and adds to the synchronicity.

Eighteen years ago on March 16, my grandfather died, sitting at home, he collapsed and was never resuscitated.  I remember being told--Erick was two and Julie was only a couple weeks from giving birth to Brigitte.  He was 77, I believe, when that happened.  I think that was the first funeral where I served as a pall bearer.

Four years ago, on March 16, my mom died.  She'd actually collapsed on the 13th, too little oxygen in her lungs from years of smoking, slipping away into sleep and then death.  They kept her on life support though until I was able to get to Oklahoma.  That was the 15th.  It was my idea, and Debbie and both Pete agreed, that they wouldn't pronounce her dead until the 16th, so that she would die on the same day as her dad.  --Sometimes symmetry is intentional, not coincidental.

Tomorrow is the 16th and it comes following several days of warm weather (at last!), the snow here all melting.  That's important, because the car I purchased and restored, a promise I made to Mom--that I wouldn't just invest or save my portion of her estate--is done and can be driven now.   Yup--the best day for it to go out on its maiden voyage--March 16.  That was coincidence, not intent.  But I suppose it's a good thing, as the paint used on the car was mixed with ashes from Mom and Pete, so that in a sense, maybe it's a spiritual rebirth for her...she loved Mustangs...

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In the big picture--the series of days from March 12-16 have a ton of crappy goings-on in my life, whether it is the death of family members or being rejected for a job because I don't have the preferred set of genitals...it's a long list, but then we come back to balance and symmetry.  If you have so much to list on the bad side of things--don't you have to balance that with the good?

Ultimately, there's only been one good thing to come in those days--but it more than balances the bad and the sad.  Twenty-five years ago, I had my first date with the future Mrs. Dietz.  March 14, 1990.  Nothing out of the ordinary--simply a movie, dinner, and talking and TV afterwards, and yet, as I walked back to my room in Sherman Hall (graduate student housing), I was on Cloud Nine.  I had not expected to be starstruck that night, that out of nowhere, I would find someone who would start me towards being a decent human being and stick with me through all of those bad things--and over the course of decades, give me too many good memories to count.

Funny how things balance out, huh?

The Positive that Comes from the Bad (Dad's death...)

Twenty-five years ago today, my dad died.  They pulled the life support in the early afternoon after I signed the papers providing authorization.  As it is with most people who suffer the unexpected death of a parent at a young age, 5/10/89 was one of the low points of my life.

For a long time, I allowed that, as well as what came afterwards because of my evil step-mother and her son (far worse than anything Disney could imagine as villains).  Life didn't get easier--I even had a professor at the University of Illinois who lowered my grade in a class because I went back to the Quad Cities for a court date.  His comment, "Just have them reschedule the date.  If it's even true in the first place." 

But...this is supposed to be positive.  If he lived, I wouldn't have gone to grad school at Illinois, and while I think Illinois sucks rocks as a school now...if I don't go there, I don't meet my wife.  No wife, then no Erick, Brigitte, or Mike.  I don't go there--then I never go to a volleyball match, and one of the other great passions I've found in my life never happens.

No Illinois, then no Ohio State--no Final Four, no friendships with Linda and Jim Stone, no Yao, no D.C. (rest in peace, sir).  No OSU, then I don't find the Guardtower, create my first game and then open my own store and eventually Jolly Roger Games.

No Julie--no central Illinois.  And that means St. Anthony would still be sucking at volleyball, probably looking for a 1st Regional title.  It means I don't teach for Parkland or EIU, or at St. Anthony--where I know I made a difference in the classroom for kids.  Given the other social studies teachers--would anyone have taught those students how to write research papers or efficiently take essay tests (I doubt it)?

No Julie--no Uni.  No Uni, no kids being selected to study abroad--so I never see Poland or Colditz in person....and hopefully Hungary in 2015.  No Julie, no central Illinois...no adoption of Michael.

My dad didn't share affection easily.  It was only at the visitation and service that I realized his love--all because person after person came up and mentioned how often he talked about me and my sister, how proud he was of us, his love for us.  His death made me realize that I didn't want that for myself, so I made myself better.  I tell my children I love them--even as they roll their eyes.  Barring weird accidents, at the end of my life, I want the last words that they (and Julie) hear from to be "I love you" because that's the truth.  Without my dad's death--do I ever come to that realization?

If an angel (or devil) were to come to me and say, "All you have to do is say 'please' and you'll have your dad back and it'll be May 11, 1989 to live again"...it sounds tempting, if only to go back and say I was sorry for my last words to him and to let him know I love him, to goad him into admitting he loved me TO ME.  Oh, how tempting.  But I couldn't.  Too many good things have happened to me, triggered by that one unfortunate incident.

I hope that he is at peace, or if the eastern religions are correct, that his karma was good and that he is enjoying his next existence, and hopefully learned that it's ok to say "I love you".

If you're reading this--have you said those magic words to those close to you lately?  Do it.  Please.