Thanks for the perspective, Carol

I needed some perspective after the day I had last Friday.

I had a pretty awful day at work – more awful than usual, I should say – which culminated in my boss and me determining the last day of my employment. Now I have a tight window in which to find a new gig and no time in which to do it. I’m actually glad that I can now see a light at the end of the tunnel but I’m disappointed that I’m back in the hunt again so soon. I need the stress that’s been added to Anita’s and my life to dissipate sooner rather than later.

South Heaven, Michigan

So Anita, the kids and I headed to “South Heaven” (as my nine-year-old calls South Haven, Michigan) the next day and frolicked in the warm, wavy waters of Lake Michigan with Carol Misseldine, a former boss and one of my best friends, whom I hadn’t seen in years because she lives in Northern California now. She was back in Michigan to visit family and friends and fortunately we made the list.

I didn’t think I was lucky enough to enjoy the kind of friendships that you hear about – the ones where the friends can go for years without seeing each other and then are so comfortable upon being reunited that it seems they were never separated – but I learned Saturday that I am. There were no pregnant pauses or uncomfortable silences. Carol made me laugh with just a facial expression the way she always could. I was genuinely excited on the way to see her, genuinely happy when I finally did – I could feel it – and genuinely sad when it was time to depart.

Lake Michigan

Her friendly, gracious family joined us on a sandbar in the lake for some Monkey in the Middle; there were 12 of us, adults and kids, laughing and jumping and diving for Frisbees and tennis balls – Carol and her relatives Mary, Robert, Dennis, Holly and Jim, and Anita, Bryant, Maya, Devina, Nikita and yours truly. Anita, who doesn’t smile a lot, did so like an only child on Christmas morning which was good to see. Our kids were their usual charming, poised, well-behaved selves. At one point I actually thought to myself, “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

Charles and Carol

At the end of the day it felt like we hadn’t had enough time, hadn’t talked or laughed or gossiped enough. I didn’t get to hear enough about her professional pursuits, which now involve protecting animals and saving the world. I didn’t ask for her advice like I needed to – she remains one of the wisest, most supportive and perceptive people I’ve ever known – and we didn’t spend enough time discussing the worst thing ever: her beloved husband, Charles, dropped dead just 15 months ago, the victim of a previously-unknown heart condition. I wanted to commend her for being so resolute, to offer my sympathies yet again, to comfort her and say something that would enlighten and serve her like she so often did for me. Instead, we didn’t discuss it much. I didn’t know how.

I did make one wince-worthy mistake. We were all sitting on the hot sand at one point, with Carol 36 inches away from me, when I answered someone’s question by saying, “Yes, and it’s good to be alive.” These are not the words I should use when sitting next to a strong but nonetheless hurting widow, I immediately thought, so I clumsily added, “Not to be insensitive or anything” which probably made things worse. Hopefully this faux pas wasn’t damaging or remembered. No one slapped me or burst into tears.

See, you never get over the death of a loved one, Carol and Anita agreed at lunch. (Anita adored her father and misses him as much today as she did when he died of bladder cancer five years ago.) You learn to live with the loss and the pain, they agreed, and to focus on the good. In fact, Carol told us, if you’re lucky you have so much love and support to receive from friends and loved ones who are there for you that your heart actually has to expand, to get larger to absorb it all.

Carol’s heart and brain are so large.

On Saturday it felt like I was a lot farther from my office-for-a-few-more-weeks in northeast Lansing than the 120 or so miles on the map. And it was good to be close again to Carol, who lives 2,335 miles away. It’s all about perspective.

Pat and Carol 15 years ago