Tom's Troops

Peace. Hope. Happiness. All feelings that have seemed incredibly foreign to me for a long time. I have spent the time since Tom’s passing searching for them. I know there have been quite a few blog posts and definitely some episodes in mine and Mary’s podcast ALS Caregivers and Beyond about this topic. This morning, I caught a glimpse and felt peace, hope and happiness. It was in the most unexpected place, in my backyard just outside my bedroom door.

I need to give you a little back story for you to fully get the epiphany I had. Tom has always wanted a hot tub, but it was always in the conversation that began with, “One day…” When Tom was diagnosed with ALS our “one day” statements stopped and we began to make them happen. So, one day, we bought a hot tub. I saw it as Tom’s hot tub. He loved it. He climbed into it any chance he could and would spend time just soaking in it listening to his music. Then he became paralyzed, trached and vented. His hot tub days were over and for the most part, so were mine. Instead of ensuring the chemicals were good or the temperature was just right to use, I checked these things periodically because I had to. When Tom died, I hated that hot tub. I have told Trey so many times, that we just needed to drain it and get rid of it.

So now that you are caught up on my hate/hate relationship with the hot tub we can proceed with the story. So, I was chatting with a friend who really likes their hot tub. Like, in it most mornings and sometimes early enough to see the sunrise. They said it was relaxing. So, since I am on a quest to find relaxing things to do in hopes that the elusive peace and happiness I have been searching for will find me, I got in the hot tub Christmas morning. While it was warm and felt nice, and possibly helped me do something that was not my normal on such a traditional day, I didn’t really find peace and happiness. But, this morning I awoke at the ungodly hour of 4:45 am. I know, I have no idea why either probably has something to do with the sick joke the universe plays on people that are getting older. While I did lay in bed just wishing to go back to sleep, I pondered if I should jump in the hot tub. I of course talked myself out of it a few more minutes because it was too dark…creepy critters hang out in the dark. It was also too cold. I mean who wants to go run outside in a bathing suite at that time of the morning and with the temperature around 33 F. Too early and too damn cold. So, I got up, put my bathing suit on, grabbed my portable speaker and phone and headed to the hot tub. I found that before I could get in, I needed to add water because the tub was making a weird sloshing/sucking sound which meant, add some water. So as I grumbled to myself that this was bullshit, it was cold and too early I went and grabbed the water hose to add some water. After what seemed like I was standing in the cold forever, I had enough water. As I ever so gracefully climbed in, so those that know me should have probably laughed a bit, because I am far from graceful, the warmth of the water started to settle the frustration I had been dealing with regarding the early hour, the cold, the not enough water, etc.

In the dark, quiet of the early morning combined with the warmth of the water, my mind started to settle. I could feel myself relax. Something I never really stopped to really pay attention to was the feeling of sitting in a hot tub in the cold. I get it now. I listened to some soothing piano music, and not just watched but felt the day begin. The tree’s that earlier had just seemed like flat silhouettes on a painting came to life as the sun came up. The quiet of the early morning changed as I heard the birds starting to sing to greet the new day. My friend Mary would say that I was being mindful. That I was living in the moment. I was. I also found that while I was aware of the day beginning I was also aware of thoughts floating in and out of my head. I was, what I now understand, had been doing my own morning meditation. Which is completely strange as I have only been ever able to do guided meditation, but this was not that. This was something altogether different. Today, in the wee hours of the morning and for the first time in a very, very long time, I felt peace and gratitude. Not just peace about losing Tom, but it was this overarching peace about my life-my past, my present and my future. I felt gratitude for being able to experience the beauty that happens when the day begins. For so long, I have felt the need to be on-guard. To be ready for anything. To handle any situation. To. Be. In. Control. The feeling of needing to be “on guard” didn’t seem to have as much power this morning. I felt like I could be me, the old Lara, the Lara that didn’t know ALS and the often unbearable heartache of losing the love of your life. I know I share a great deal with you in this blog, but keep in mind, I share what I want. I have never shared the really raw, hard stuff the things that often take me to my knees and would probably compel you to call in a welfare check on me.

This morning, I remembered it was okay to be vulnerable. Not in a powerless way, but in a way that allows me to feel and be in the moment. In a way that I see I need to be in order to heal. The version of me that is the person Tom loved. Someone who felt safe enough to be honest and vulnerable with him. In my healing, I am working on creating that same space for myself. This morning was truly transformative for me. I learned I needed to meet peace in the middle. I have to do the hard work for peace and happiness to find me. Who knew, that the real journey to finding them would be just outside my door should I choose to wake up at the butt crack of dawn and brave the cold to find them. The reality is that today is a good day. Tomorrow, I may not open that door and let the morning come without me witnessing it, but that is okay. It’s my journey!