Acceptance is the New Normal

My day started out all wrong. This was no ordinary day in Death City. Something different. I hesitated before descending my apartment steps. I looked out over the horizon, noting its greenish-black pallor. Its death stare. Its empty, aloof, and lonely presence. No dogs barked. No kids played. No horns honked. Nothing but extreme silence.

I checked my watch: 6:23 a.m. I had exactly twenty minutes before the Heavens parted and the bowels of Hell unleashed torment upon our city. As if on cue, the sky lit up just long enough for me to see hundreds of sandbags stacked around homes and businesses as far as I could see before the darkness enveloped me once again. I waited. I gripped the handrail to steady myself. Tried to stay upright. When the sky lit up again I also saw hundreds of boards that had been bolted to building windows and glass doors. I noticed a lot of missing vehicles. Almost everyone had evacuated.

But I had no where to go. Not after losing my son. And no where else I wanted to be. This was my life now. Each new day brought with it a new set of rules to live by, a new way to measure life, a new set of challenges. I enjoyed the challenges. I enjoyed not knowing. I loved helping my community each time Mother Nature payed us an emotional visit. Her "extreme" visits gave me a purpose, a goal, a thrill. I wouldn't have it any other way. I accepted whatever came my way.

My friend and neighbor James had begged me to go with him last night. "Come on, please Jenny. I'm begging you," he had said. "No one will make it out alive this time," he said, unshed tears threatening to fall. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I've got to stay here. It's going to be okay."

"I'm leaving," he said, holding his hand out to me, "and I really really really want you to come with me. I can't stand the thought of coming back here and finding you dead. I don't think I can come come back."

"I know, James, but I have to stay. I WANT to stay," I said. And then I kissed him gently on the cheek. As I pulled away from him he grabbed my wrist, and I watched tears trail down his cheeks. He took one long last look at me, seeming to soak up every last feature of my face before turning away, grabbing his bag from the floor and throwing it over his shoulder. Wearing a lined rain suit with a tight fitting hood and rubber boots, he didn't look back as he shouldered his way through the door and into the devilish night. I had thought I heard him sob.

I thought of him as I braced myself at the top of my steps and stared out at the vast black emptiness once filled with laughter and the hustle and bustle of my small town. I realized with sadness I would never see James again. I wasn't sad for me, but for James. He had lost so much in his life -- his wife and kids in an awful car accident two years ago; his job when he constantly poured himself into a bottle after that; the house he had rebuilt after Mother Nature's last extreme visit. He couldn't handle another loss.

But I didn't see it as loss. Not after the death of my son and then the lengthy illness and death of my father. I saw it as just another part of life. With life comes death. And with death, life. People die. Babies are born. My therapist had taught me to take the good with the bad. To live in the middle lane. Everything in moderation. Stability. Focus. Hang in there. No all or nothing mentality. No black or white thinking. Just grey. If it happens, it happens. Give up trying to control everything. Give up worrying about everything. Worry and control don't change anything, except maybe add a few extra wrinkles to your face, a few extra pounds to your middle, and speed the grey or balding to your hair. Acceptance is the new normal.

Picking me up from the top of the steps, Mother Nature hurled me through my plate glass window. Pain and fear shot through me as I lay on my side and inspected the glass and blood all around me; Inspected my wounds. Swirls of mud and debris the color of a freshly dug grave surrounded me on my wet, carpeted, living room floor.

I welcomed Death just as I would have welcomed a new day. Whether it came or not, I was here to accept whatever came with open arms. I was ready for anything. Nothing more could surprise me. My son's death had been my last surprise.

I licked at the corners of my lips and tasted the metallic saltiness of blood. I smelled earth scents all around me. I laid back and stared up at the emotional sky; listened to Mother Nature's angry outburst. Watched her cry. Sensed her fury. Felt pangs of emotional release within my body as tears streamed down the sides of my eyes. I thought of my son, Travis. Only 25 when he died. The way my whole world turned upside down on that day six years ago. The way my future ended that day.

You're not supposed to lose a child. It goes against nature. Goes against all reason. Especially when it's by their own hand. Their own decision. Especially when they give you no choice in the matter. And yet they leave you to pick up the pieces. I was the one left to pick up the pieces. I was the one who found him. The one who had to tell his youngest brother. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do, besides burying my child. I was the one who had to put on a brave face and pretend everything was okay in the world, even though it wasn't. It wasn't okay and it would never, ever, be okay. Ever again. But we will pretend for today. And maybe tomorrow. And the day after that.

After Travis's funeral, I spiraled into my own dark pit of despair and nine months later tried to join my son in death, but I wasn't successful. And after that I lost everything, including my youngest son. I was forced to start over. Forced to attend counselling. Forced to learn coping mechanisms. Forced to learn acceptance. Forced to learn that shit happens. A lot. Forced to LIVE.

From that point forward I would only live in the moment. I wouldn't look back. Never look forward. Only the present moment. The perfect moment. Now. Only now. Now is what counts. Breathe in. Breathe out. Complete acceptance. Give up control. Give up worrying about the future. Give up crying about the past. Sit and feel the emotions. Good or bad, accept what life throws at you. Life is like a spider monkey. It flings a lot of shit. And acceptance is the new normal.

And as I lay there in my muddy, bloody carpet, living in the moment, breathing in the moment, accepting life as it came at me, I didn't see the thousand-pound tree that was picked up by Mother Nature and dropped on top of me until the second it hit my face.