I’m a little late. I probably should have posted this on the 19th, the one year anniversary of my loss of Janelle. But it is probably for the better that I am late. And I have excuses?

My good intentions were to post on August 19th. My mother had a saying about a road paved with good intentions. As the 19th approached, I was well on my way to the same destination psychologically. Fortunately, my body provided a detour. I stumbled into the ED at 3:30AM on August 4th and had unscheduled major surgery on the 8th; discharged on the 12th. Recovery kept me occupied through the 19th. While I have some annoying, and temporary, post-op weight restrictions, it appears my problem was “one off” and shouldn’t cause long term issues.

What a difference a month makes. I was aware in early August that my outlook was becoming increasingly stressed. But knowing, and having to explain to another, I have found to be two very different things. While being admitted through the ED I was asked all the normal screening questions about smoking and substance abuse, safety at home, etc. Then they asked, “In the past two weeks have you considered ending your life?” “Well, yes I have”, says I. Which brings things to a full stop for a few seconds. And then the train is shunted onto a new track – please be specific, do you have concrete plans, and such. I noticed a significant increase in how closely I was monitored after that and much more frequent inquiries into how I was doing.

What a difference a month makes. I was taught a new word a few months ago – perseverating. And apparently there is a whole thing from WandaVision? Anyway; guilty. Whether my physical crisis displaced my mental crisis, or the two together flipped a circuit breaker, my outlook on the future is far improved. Much more in line with July. Which is the point I started to make at the top. What I write today is far more reflective of my Journey than what I would have written without a reset.

What a difference a year makes. Reading now, my description of the person starting the Journey is both sobering and amusing. I was indeed broken. Perhaps shattered is a better choice in hindsight. I’m glad I had a career of process management muscle memory to get me moving. But to think PDCA was gonna reassemble a shattered soul was, let’s choose, “deluded”. The whole thing did give me time though. The driving helped, seeing the diversity and grandeur of our country east of the Mississippi helped. Time with good friends and family helped the most. A lesson Janelle had been trying to instill, at what must have been a painful pace. But it was enough, along with the emptiness, to make me open up just a little. With immense reward. My thanks to all that sheltered me over the past year.

Also wrong? The semi-formed idea that I could fill the void left by Janelle with other activities, commitments, or goals. Nope. That void is a void. I am slowly able to transform sad thoughts into happy memories. That makes the void less black, perhaps even partly sunny from time to time. I’ve adjusted the model. I am learning to live with the Janelle I now have, and meld that with new experiences. Not as “clean”, but probably more robust. For example…

Lobster. Whenever Brittany was able to come back to Maine, it became tradition for the three of us to have lobster. On the 19th, we cooked three; for Brittany, me, and a spare. In the past, Brittany and I would retire to the couch and some TV, while Janelle sat at the kitchen table and cleaned the remaining lobster shells for what seemed like a couple of hours. She always came away with enough meat for lobster rolls. So here was another life skill that we never bothered to learn, but really, we could figure it out. Brittany cleaned the claws and the tails – that would be the decent looking haul below. I tackled the legs and bodies – that would be the disgraceful pittance below. Thank goodness for the spare bug – see lobster roll at top of page. I plan to try again with some harder shell creatures before admitting defeat. I’m concerned the odds may not be in my favor.

Moving forward. This paragraph is a struggle. I find it difficult to present my thoughts in what I find to be a coherent manner. I’ve concluded that they are, what they are. And apparently that is incoherent. I believe that I have lived a fortunate life. I eventually learned to work hard and apply my gifts. But I have also been very lucky. Many that worked harder, were not as lucky. I know this. But I lost the one that made me whole at least twenty years early. I have been lucky many times and supremely unlucky once. I know of no stoichiometry of luck. There is no way to say, or know if, on balance, I’ve been lucky or unlucky. And it doesn’t really matter.

Shortly before her death, Janelle encouraged me to go back to school and get my Bachelor’s degree. This was not so dissimilar from the Dutch oven – Janelle did not understand why I thought I wanted one. But unlike to dutch oven, she championed my going back to school over my reticence. I started back on-line at the University of Maine at Presque Isle, twelve days after shed died. And earned a Bachelor’s in History and Political Science this Spring.

Which brings me back to luck. As luck would have it, I heard a radio interview on NPR in Wisconsin by a professor of Emergency Sciences on the intersection of climate change and wealth inequality. Both areas of concern to me. As luck would have it, when I googled and then emailed the professor, she was very generous with her time and support. She arranged a Zoom call and spent 90 minutes asking about my goals and suggesting options for me to become more involved. Her top recommendation was to become a FEMA Reservist, on call to respond to disasters. After some further research I applied for, and was hired into the Planning Cadre. Hired into a position that required a Bachelor’s Degree. I have completed my orientation and look forward to being deployed into the field to try to give back to a world that has been mostly kind to me.

What a difference a year makes. I started broken. I can’t say I’m now functioning at top form. More like a scratch and dent appliance. I work, but would never be taken for new. Which is OK. I like being a work in process. I like that I’m on a path to give back. I hope to be traveling out West this winter as FEMA commitments allow, but that is currently TBD. I like that I’ve got more confidence to lean on friends and family. I like that mostly when I think of Janelle I now smile.