When someone you love dies in a car accident there are many horrible things to come to terms in your new life. One of the most unexpected parts comes in the mail. First of all, there are mailers from the personal injury lawyers. We started receiving letters within 48 hours of Dad’s death. I’m married to an attorney. He’s definitely one of the good guys. I like a lot of lawyers. However, these personal injury lawyers are not on my list of desirable human beings. I will not go further into describing these pariahs because as a ordained United Methodist clergy I took certain vows of seeing the best in people.
The other item in the mail is the beginning round of medical bills from the hospital, the doctors and the life flight helicopter. Please do not hear this as a complaint about medical pricing. It is merely a difficult reminder of the reality of the loss of someone who was so dear to us. The amounts of these bills before auto and health insurance is jaw dropping.
When I was a college student we waited anxiously for the arrival of the mail carrier. Now I dread the mail for my Mom. The one bright spot in the mail is the many cards we have receiving from all of the country honoring my Dad. Thank you for each card. It makes getting the mail a bit more tolerable.
r all the flowers have dried up from the funeral
ck and numbness is ebbing away and reality is coming back into focus. Honestly, I prefer the numbness to the prickling thoughts that stick in my head: what about Christmas, what about Monday lunches, what about all of Dad’s stuff, what about the questions I meant to ask him, what are we supposed to do now? The whats and whys and hows are part of the cycle in my thoughts. I wish my thoughts would slow down a bit and I could finish an activity. For now I will try to stay present in this moment of peace with my sweet Ginger dog on my lap, under my laptop, and a cool glass of water.
es on after the death of a loved one but I’m not ready for this new normal. Usually I call my Dad about car stuff. He was the kind of guy who “knew a guy” who could fix my cars. Or you could describe the symptoms of the problem and he could diagnose the solution with just a phone call. I remember well the time I called him about a problem with my minivan. I described the problem Dad diagnosed it as a malfunction in the starter and told me where to take, who to ask for and about how much it should cost.
into the house were surreal. Under a table by my Dad’s chair sat his SAS shoes which he wore almost every day. Those shoes were the tipping point for me in tears. The tears that had been saved up from the previous day were not to be denied today. There’s no handbook for this stuff. We just make it up as we go along. I left the shoes because I couldn’t bear to think of Dad not returning to those ugly, orthopedic shoes. Fast forward a couple of hours later and the second thing my mother does is move the shoes into the bedroom. She can’t stand to look at the shoes sitting in the living room and I can’t stand the idea that the owner of the shoes will not return.
I’m calling this new section of my blog, The Undiscovered Country for a couple of reasons. I like Star Trek. The last movie with the original cast was called 
has been shaking up my world. One of the most helpful statements I have been using in these days is, “You cannot walk the second journey with first journey tools. You need a whole new tool kit.” I believe we are in a time of shifting paradigms and we do not yet have the tools we need for this new journey and path we are on. In times of fear I want to make a blanket fort and hide out with a book and a cup of tea. Yet we live in a time where hiding out will not change a thing and could actually makes things worse.
Shelly Speaks Up 