Learn to Fly, Learn to See

My authenticated papers came in from ProEx service today, all stamped and official looking by the State Department and the United Arab Emirates embassy.  That was the last official step on my part towards my journey to Abu Dhabi. Now all I have to do is prepare my personal belongings, buy suitcases and a laptop, and board a plane in August for Abu Dhabi. All of this happened so very fast, but I’m ready. I think.

One of my best friends, Susa, lost her husband, Chuck, out of the proverbial blue Saturday night. We are all still attempting to come to terms with the sudden loss. It doesn’t seem real.  One minute he was here, the next he was gone at fifty-three years old.  She is shattered and reeling, as I would be if I were in her place. Now I will leave in August. I am leaving her.

I will leave my other friend, Scott, who is on his last bit of chemotherapy before the doctors do his “reconnect” surgery that will divert his digestive tract back where it should, by nature, be diverted to.  I will not be here to hold his hand. I will not be here for my friends, and that hurts. With Chuck’s passing it has become all too clear to me how suddenly and inexplicitly life can turn on a dime.

My father and his Alzheimer’s will only get worse. There is no turning it back. He now has more bad days than good days. It is so very difficult on my mother, and I know my impending departure leaves her feeling somewhat betrayed.

I will leave my beloved husband, who means more to me than my own heart, behind. He wants me to go after my dreams. He wants me to have this teaching experience in Abu Dhabi. He says we will work it out. That all will be okay.  I hold onto his words, and his assurances.

I don’t want to live in fear of what may be or what may not be, but I can’t help it, I do. My need to go outweighs my fears though. This is my last chance. I am fifty years old. This opportunity will not drop into my lap again. If I stay, I will only become more afraid to attempt anything new.  I will be forced to teach in a school that will not allow me to be creative, that will make me “teach the test”, that will push every bit of love I have for teaching out of my soul and leave behind an acid bitterness that will leave me old before my time. If I do not go, I will forever regret it.

So, I will leave in August. I will board a plane and travel over 6000 miles away. I will leave behind Susa, Scott, my father and my mother, and my dear husband, Jim.

I will not be here for my fragile daughter who is struggling to find her way, yet resists any overtures from me to help. I will not be here when her child is born in October, or be here to help her pick up the pieces when the house of cards she has so impulsively built over the past year falls down around her ears.

Who am I responsible to? Just myself? That is selfish. But to what extent and for whom do I give up my dreams? What makes that sacrifice acceptable? Who can I be, if not true to myself?  Since Saturday, these are the questions I ask each night as I lie in bed, the ones that keep me awake.  I must take a deep breathe. I must gather my courage. I can be afraid, but I must not allow that fear to control me. I will not. When I return from Abu Dhabi in two years, I will be wiser, smarter, more experienced, more sure of myself.  The love I have here will go with me. Distance will not destroy it, but deepen it.  Make it all the more precious. That is what I must depend on…

The emotional rollercoaster that the death of a friend causes is something I have never experienced before. I have had friends die, but they were friends from my past-  ones who were not in my day-to-day life. Chuck was a part of my life here on Rose Street. There will be a void caused by his absence. I know it is his passing that is causing me to have second thoughts about leaving, but I also know that it is part of the grieving process I must go through. We all go through that process differently based upon the relationship we shared with the person who is now gone.  Chuck’s death has made me truly realize how little time we have to actually live. How little time is granted to us. How it can all end in a split second. I can allow those realizations to control me or to free me. It is my choice.

Tomorrow I will be funny and irreverent again. I promise. But tonight, I needed to be uncertain, serious, doubtful, and human. I needed to cry.

I am still going to go to Abu Dhabi.

Dedicated to Chuck Quinn-a true Beatles fan:

Blackbird

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

-John Lennon, Paul McCarthy