Continuing to Mourn Through September

 Last weekend I lost a friend and mentor. Rudi was a wise man who I first met in 1989. We were both in Toastmasters. He was in the local leadership and was helpful when we were starting our club.

Our friendship started in 1991 when he took me under his wing and I became his Sargent-at-Arms when he was the leader. It was an education for me as I learned more about the local organization and life in general. Rudi was my guide and confidante. He was always forwarding advice about public speaking and leadership.

Several years ago, I put out a call for assistance in helping a club I was working with. Rudi was the only person who answered my call.

He was full of compassion and integrity. He was ethical, moral and always took the high road. This is what he imparted upon me.

It had been several years since I saw him. We did keep in touch via social media. I enjoyed his witty retorts. He referenced himself as a grumpy old man. This could not have been further from the truth. I miss him already.

Even before hearing of my friends passing I was feeling depleted with low energy. September stirs up memories for me. Memories of loved ones. Three years ago my Aunt June died. She was wise and intelligent. A goldsmith by trade, well read, well versed. Her dugout (yes her dugout) in central Australia was covered with books, movies and sources of wisdom. I loved visiting, we would spend hours talking. Het town mined 70% of the world's opals. It was full of characters chasing their dreams of striking it rich. Or in some cases it was a good place to escape to or from.

Two years ago, my partner's mother died. Lil was special, a survivor in every sense of the word. She loved her family and welcomed me with open arms into her family. When life would put her backwards, she would find a way to take two steps forward. I was her sweetheart.

Why am I sharing about recent deaths? Rightly or wrongly I have a morbid fascination with death. I read obituaries every day. Death affects me a lot. It takes a part of my soul, my fabric. I start thinking about my own mortality. What will my obituary say?  Can I measure up to other people? Who will come to my celebration of life? Who will speak at it?

Whenever someone I know dies my depression makes me feel not worthy enough. I want to be more confident in my own life and abilities. I do not want to judge myself against other people. If I can get to this point than I can truly celebrate life and cherish past memories.

I continue to be a work in progress...

The Age of Innocence

Last month the Rio olympics produced spectacular accomplishments and wonderful stories off inspiration and human survival. Watching the Olympics, brought me back to the time 40 years ago when I was a precocious 12 yr old attended the Montreal Olympics. 

My parents, brother and I spent 2 weeks in and around Montreal caught up in Olympic fever. We saw a wide range of events culminating with the closing ceremonies. When we were not attending events we would hang out at the Olympic park meeting and interacting with people from all over the world.  I enjoyed meeting and talking with people. Showing no fear. 

One of our favorited places to hang out was the practice track in behind Olympic stadium. It was open to the public. You could sit in the bleachers and watch atheletes practice. One day we sat and watched. To my right was this young muscular black man putting on his running shoes. I walked over to him and asked him what event he was practicing for. He said 400 metre hurdles. I asked what country he was competing for, he said I am Edwin Moses from the USA. Edwin Moses who would only go on to be the greatest hurdler in the world at the time. I regret not getting an autograph. The few minutes of conversation will linger in my memory forever. 

Today, we would not be able to get that close to atheletes without tons of security. We were there the night Nadia Comeneci recorded the first perfect score in gymnastics. We were there the final night of swimming when Canadan female swimmers upset the favorite American women to win silver and bronze. The crowd went ballistic. The American swimmers who won medals would toss mini footballs into the crowd. 

We saw the men's semi final basketball match between Canada and USA. The Canadians got beaten badly. We saw the women's gold medal match. I can't remember who was playing, What I do remember was seeing not meeting Wilt Chamberlain in the crowd.

We watched the men's gold medal volleyball Match between Soviet Union and Poland. The Soviets were up 2 sets to none and up 11-4 in the third game, seemingly cruising to victory. Poland roared back to win in 5 sets. The game ended at 1:30 in the morning.  I didn't know a lot about volleyball, however, sat beside an American who was coaching the national team of Kenya. He taught me over the course of the game all about volleyball and Africa. This game is considered the greatest volleyball match of all time.

We saw lots of track and field and soccer. Some of the atheletes we saw were the great Finnish long distance runner Lasse Viren who after winning the 5,000 and 10,000 meters race ran his first marathon and finished 5th. Just ahead of the best finish by a Canadian in the marathon Jerome Drayton who was 6th.

The great Cuban runner Alberto Juantareno the only person to complete the 200 meter and 400 meter double in Olympic history. The silver medalist in these races was a Belgian runner Ivo Van Damme who was tragically killed in a car accident a few months after the Olympics. 

We saw Greg Joy upset the brash Dwight Stones to win silver in the high jump. Saw Bruce/Catlyn Jenner win the decathlon. 

We saw the closing ceremonies. In one segment they had nuns from a convent in Montreal form the Olympic Rings. The ring right in front of us was just closing when a young man jumped out of the stands gained access to the ring and took of his clothes and streaked around inside the circle to the shocked looks of the nuns. After all it was the 70's and streakers were prevalent. 

Two wonderful weeks, meeting and seeing outstanding atheletes and people. I wanted to still be that innocent young 12 year old who would not be afraid to talk to people. Sadly, a few short years later my life would be shaped in a different direction and that age of innocence would be gone forever.  

Every summer Olympics I relive the summer of 1976.

Revelations

Last week I was interviewed for a campaign video. A company will use this video to entice their employees to donate money for the local United Way campaign in conjunction with the local CMHA chapter.

I shared my story, my personal story on dealing and living with depression.  Although formally diagnosed in 2010, I have dealing with depression since I was 15.

At this age my parents separated. My father left and I lived with my mother. I love my mother dearly, however, she had no capacity to raise a teenager. She did her best, it wasn't what I needed and soon found myself being co-dependent on her as she was on me. It was not healthy. I did not see it.

I was too wrapped up in my little world of being shy and introverted and withdrawn. While at the same time I was also angry, irritable, frustrated and mad at the world. I could explode with outbursts at any time. Thank god they were verbal not physical outbursts. The words could be damaging and inappropriate.

Most of my anger was directed at my father for leaving the family. I bought into what my family was saying about him. The interactions I had with my father at this time were strained and forced. He was trying and I wasn't. It would be a couple of years until I got through the BULLSHIT.

In my early 20's I was presented with a great opportunity and made the most of it. The opportunity was to be the student manager for the University Men's basketball team. I grew up and matured and learned about myself. I came away from that experience with a lifetime of memories and lifelong friendships.

In my first year I almost blew it because I was trying to hard to impress. I was a people pleaser. Several times my emotions would get the better of me and I would lash out at my teammates for no reason.

They were my saving grace. They were a few years older than me and I learned valuable life lessons. They said just be myself, we like you when you are. On a road trip, after a tough loss I shared my story. They were supportive and offered advice on how to improve my relations with my father .

I took heed and after a short period of time my father and I found common ground in sports, history, current events and crossword puzzles. It took a few years, I did repair my relationship with my father.