My Hero

"You must bear losses like a soldier, a voice told me, bravely and without complaint, and just when the day seems lost, grab your shield for another stand, another thrust forward.  That is the juncture that separates heroes from the merely strong."

~ Margaret George, The Memoirs of Cleopatra

I admit it, I'm addicted to quotes.  I can spend hours trolling quote sites whenever I get interested in a topic, but especially when preparing to blog.  And I did so when I decided to post this week on the topic of loss.  Because loss is ever present in our lives these days.  Not just the constant presence of the Ghost of Christmas Future, but the onslaught of loss that John has been experiencing of late.  

I set out to find a quote that might capture the feelings I have experienced as I watch him. My concern as I see him walk more slowly, tire more easily, require still another transfusion.  The sorrow I felt when he recently divested himself of his business, his "baby" that he nurtured for almost 30 years.  The heartbreak of watching him sell his car, accepting that the progression of his macular degeneration necessitates my chauffering.  The loss of stamina and energy, the loss of a piece of his identity, the loss of freedom and independence.  Loss upon loss.  I hate this for him.

And then I came upon the above quote and literally, in the moment, realized that this is how John thinks about loss and that the feelings I need to hold onto are my profound respect and gratitude for how he is managing his.  For he doesn't complain, doesn't even see complaining as a choice.  He takes life a day at a time, reorganizes quickly, and moves forward as best he can with amazing agility and dignity.  

I have often described my husband as resilient or persistent.  Strong.  But now, heroic.  My hero - and he will never lose that.

 

Thank You, I Needed That

"Perseverance is failing 19 times and succeeding the 20th."

~ Julie Andrews

This past weekend, I watched the Masters Golf Tournament with John.  I'm not a golfer, not even a sports enthusiast, but I enjoy watching golf.  And I think John enjoys having me watch with him.  That's a good thing, because as our world becomes smaller and smaller, and we are with each other almost 24/7, finding things we enjoy together has become more imperative.  

I'm enjoying learning more about golf, about the nuances of the sport, its rich history and protocols, the various tournaments and courses, and above all, the golfers.  Perhaps, its the legacy of growing up with Arnie and Jack, their ups and downs, their families, their charities, watching them age along with us. Perhaps its the relative absence of scandal and notoriety in the sport.  (I did say relative absence.)  And the presence of families, in some cases generations of families.  This sport speaks to my values as well as my history.

I now root for a couple youngsters - Ricky Fowler and Jason Day - and am particularly fond of the Spanish veteran, Sergio Garcia, who has had the reputation of being the best golfer who has never won a major PGA tournament.  So Sunday found me cheering for him, hoping against hope that he would finally win his first major, and not just any tournament, but the revered Masters, the tournament that has plagued him for the 19, yes, 19 years, in which he has competed.  "I hope he wins.  Please let him win.  Come on Sergio.  You can do it, Sergio."

And he did.  He played his way into the lead, was overtaken, fought back to a tie, and finally won by two strokes in the playoff.  And the crowd roared - Sergio, Sergio, Sergio. 

In the days since his victory, I've considered why I like him, I'd even say that I admire him. Why did I become so invested in his win?  Why did I take such pleasure in his joy and celebration?  (And I did. You would have thought I knew him personally, that he was my kid brother or nephew.)

The obvious answer is that I often cheer for the underdog, but in this case it is more than that, much more.  I admire his perseverance, his tenacity.  Nineteen years and he plays with the same competitive passion as he did the first year I watched him.  I respect the respect he shows for his mentors.  Proteges often forget those who taught, and supported, and encouraged.  He never does.  I applaud his loyalty - his coach is his father, always has been.  Even when Sergio grew discouraged and almost quit the sport, he never abandoned his dad, just worked harder.  And what he apparently worked on was his mental game.  That may be what I admire the most.  That he looked inward, and grew not just as a golfer, but a man.  Perseverance, respect, loyalty, hard work, personal responsibility. 

In this day when the news is filled with dysfunction and greed, venom and vitriol, murder and mayhem, it was such a joy to watch someone achieve his dream because he is talented and diligent. To hear him graciously, sincerely acknowledge his family and mentors.  To see his joy and gratitude.  To see the respect shown between the players and the crowds.  To listen to thoughtful, nuanced commentary.  To celebrate.  To be reminded that this is still possible.