"So I said, "I don't wanna be alone forever.
But I can be tonight
I don't wanna be alone forever
But I love gypsy life
I don't wanna be alone forever
Maybe we can see the world together"
A few songs played on perpetual repeat every time I rode in a car with George. Most recently "Gypsy" by Lady Gaga became a top favorite. There was a specific way in which George would sing " I don't want to be alone forever, but I love gypsy life." George had a magnificent voice and every song he sung is now cataloged as a poignant swan song. In my mind, when I hear him sing, I hear these few lines of "Gypsy" most clearly. He sang them earnestly and honestly as though he was proclaiming his deepest desire.
Grief is many more things than I anticipated. As a child, my siblings and I would have to play a game at the end of each day called the "mad, sad, glad game." We would each identify something that had transpired throughout our day which had caused us to be mad, sad, and glad. I was trained early to be an excellent identifier of emotions, especially my own. There have been few occasions where I have not known how to name how I was feeling. The grief I have experienced over losing George is hard to name. It identifies itself as everything from Lady Gaga lyrics to sermons. It manifests itself in the remnants of bath salts, given to me by George for my birthday, now crushed to powder in every crevice of my purse. It manifests itself in my unwillingness to remove it, as every time I open my purse I can smell him. As surprised as I have been by my sorrow, I am likewise taken aback by my joy for my favorite gypsy. There are moments when I feel guilty for rejoicing. When I feel this guilt, I am shortly thereafter struck by the reminder that we can only grieve for what we have once rejoiced in. I also rejoice in knowing my grieving means my dear gypsy, George, is rejoicing, as he is no longer a nomad, and has found a home.
This year has come with many changes, not all of which I welcomed easily. I am a cleaver. I resist change most adamantly. New Year's resolutions are all about what we plan on acquiring or eliminating from our lives. This year I am taking inventory of the areas in my life where I could be a bit more of a "gypsy" and the areas where I can reside more in a sense of "home" or being settled.
1. I will be a gypsy in the classroom. I will be willing to move through ideas, approaches, and changes more fluidly. I will challenge myself to be more flexible as a teacher and encourage flexibility and creativity in my students.
2. I will be a gypsy in my own creative practice. I will make more art for myself, and push myself to try new mediums.
3. I will be a gypsy with new people. I will allow myself to move out of my comfort zone in order to meet unique, interesting and inspiring people.
4. I will be a gypsy when considering next steps. I will not put limitations on where I'd be willing to move or apply.
5. I will be at home in my relationships. I will strive to be more generous with those I love, and more willing to accept their limitations as well as my own.
6. I will be at home in my job. I will enjoy each day more and not get so caught up in the day to day hiccups. I will focus most on my relationship with my students, and do my best to engender them with confidence, a willingness to take risks and empathize.
7. I will be at home in my faith. I will be more willing to share my beliefs and express a greater abundance of love. I will be bold about my belief in God and his hand in my life.
8. I will be at home in my body. I will not disparage it. I will refuse to be aware of my "good" angles and I will accept the changes that have come to it this past year.
At George's funeral the concluding speaker reminded us of George's ability to live the second commandment effortlessly. George had an uncanny ability to love his neighbor. The speaker encouraged us to not only love our neighbor but to make efforts to likewise recommit ourselves to the first commandment of loving God more.
Grief is a nomadic process. You never feel completely at home in any given emotion. It is a place where one does not want to sit still. Loss in many ways is what creates gypsies. There have been moments when I have not wanted to sit still in all of this. However, when the stillness catches me, I find myself in awe of the renewed and deepened love I have for my friends and family. I find myself in awe of a more consecrated faith and sacred commitment to God.
George Bernard Shaw wrote, “There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it."
The most beautiful things we acquire, and precious things we lose, all come with painful tutoring and shaping. The ultimate battle is learning to recognize the junctures requiring more movement and those that ask for stillness. My ultimate hope for my 2015 is to better understand when to run and when to stand still.
