Losing those who we learn the most from in life is pretty much a double edged sword. If they accomplished their lives work where we are concerned they’ve taught us how to not just survive, but thrive in our own lives. They worry about us. They give us tough love when we need to learn the hard lessons, so that when disappointment or loss happens we know how to take our lumps gracefully, acknowledge where we failed and come back stronger. What they don’t teach us, is how we’re supposed to live, without them. Or so I thought.
Yesterday marks 10 years to the date that my “Superman” (Grandpa and for intents and purposes, the man who raised me in wake of the sudden death of my dad, four months before I was born) left us.
Reading back from the blog post I wrote 10 years ago I can feel the sting from the words written. It was the closest to an out of body experience I’ll probably ever experience. It was if my world had stopped spinning. I still feel that it did. I was helplessly lost. Not knowing what to think or feel. I knew that the day he left us there would be a rupture in my space-time-continuum.
It’s not like I was dependent on him. He saw to it that I wouldn’t be. But the thing is, he’s the closest to a soul mate I would ever have. We were cut from the same cloth. We spoke the same language. Both so passionate about the things that mattered most in life. Conversations were always high level. Small talk wasn’t something we did. Every single conversation left me with wisdom and new perspective. He was who I went to when I had a problem. Not because he would fix it for me or even tell me how to fix it. He would somehow always figure out a way to make me think for myself, even if it meant silence with an expectant look and time for me to hear myself and find my own solution.
Much more, he was the cornerstone of our family. If he wasn’t there, who would counsel the chaos? I already grew up feeling responsible for my big brother because he needed someone to be extra strong for him. I felt protective of my mom. She was strong but in some ways her strength was over abundant and what I perceived as a facade. She needed looking after. Her heart was so badly damaged and the dogma from losing my dad at such a young age and with such trauma, she needed my strength as well. With my strength divided amongst us three most of my childhood, then split my remaining third between my husband and his young brother, I helped raise, my strength was renewed frequently through visits with my Grandpa. He kept my faith alive and was my sounding board.
Imagine not just losing the person but losing your sole renewable source of faith and strength. That would be enough to make you feel like your world has just spun off its axis and crashed into oblivion. It is the loneliest feeling in the world, and that alone carried enough weight to crush your soul.
Looking back now, at the last ten years, I have to shake my head in disbelief. Here all this time I’ve told myself I would never survive without him. That somehow I would just lay down and die too.
That is so far from what I actually did though. In the past ten years I’ve have admittedly experienced some of the biggest losses, acts of disloyalty from people I never thought would be capable of hurting me or letting me down the way that they did, some of which as recent as this year. I’ve come close to losing everything I had (which wasn’t much at the time but to me it was the world), I’ve defended what I spent years trying to build from some of the most formidable entities and come out just and victorious.
I’ve raised a beautiful, in vanity as well in heart, little girl. A girl who is as creative and imaginative as she is brilliantly book smart. A girl with the most giving and gentle heart but the mental toughness of a warrior.
I’ve built a half billion plus, sellable real estate business. Had the opportunity to turn down a buy out offer from the largest real estate holdings company in the world so I could keep my name and what I built sacred.
I’ve built a private equity company that has taken major risks and has been handsomely rewarded for going against the grain and seeing opportunity where others see ruins. A company poised to go global next year.
I’ve built a reputation across the nation as a leader in business, leadership and most recently, global economic speculation. I see the respect given by most for being who I am. Honest to a fault. What you see if what you get, but in a world of “fake it til you make its” I recognize that real recognizes real.
So It just plain slapped me in the face yesterday…all this time I’ve been telling myself that I couldn’t make it without him and I’ve been doing the exact opposite.
He did teach me how to live, and he absolutely did teach me how to live without him. I was just so caught up in my grief to notice and give myself what I needed the most…Grace.
So today, ten years down the road, in lieu of my typical tear ridden idolization and recant of all that I lost when this man who taught me how to live, I choose a different avenue.
I acknowledge my own intense strength and perseverance. I relish in the love, respect and care I give to those who come into my life. I celebrate the wins I have made and even the losses incurred, as they too have made me wiser and even more understanding. With gratitude I am thankful for the patience for others, who unlike me, may not feel comfortable being vulnerable in their lowest moments in hopes others reading this would think “Thank god I’m not alone for thinking or feeling this way.” Finally, I rejoice in the grace I have found for myself. To not be so hard on myself all the time so that I can give some credit where credit is due, that despite me thinking all these years that the man who taught me how to live, didn’t prepare me for how to live without him, actually did. I just couldn’t see past my grief enough to give myself credit for it.
I will always miss him. The depth of grief experienced is a mere reflection of the love that was there. I am eternally grateful to have even experienced that kind of love in my lifetime.
If you’re going through this yourself…Remember to be kind to you. It gets easier but I never fully goes away. It’s ok to be sad, just don’t unpack and live there. That’s not what your loved ones would have wanted.
Gypsy Mogul Mama 