I don’t know what to write next. Normally, I hear a muse that helps me write. Yes, literally. Since we’ve come home, I haven’t heard it – or is it a she? Perhaps that’s because within days of coming home, I had to announce that our company was closing. I’m so used to dealing with stress, I don’t think I even recognize it any more. I’m pretty sure that was more than stressful, though. Thankfully, yesterday, I heard my muse.
Catherine is doing remarkably well. Within two days of her homecoming, she stood up with her therapist and was able to bear some weight on her legs. Two days later, she did it again, and actually tried to take steps. Our PT had to hold her back. I would think that would make me ecstatic. Instead, I think the news of CDP holds me back. I feel a lack of energy and sadness at the loss. Thank goodness Catherine is doing well. I sometimes think about what might have happened had Dr Miller and Dr. Thoreaux not been able to stabilize Catherine in the first surgery or if their educated hypothesis had been wrong in the second surgery. Maybe it’s a good thing those thoughts can stick around so I can juxtapose them against her amazing recovery. Because right now, I am focused on helping our team get jobs and helping our clients transition well.
All this makes me think about the purpose of this blog. In an outplacement workshop we had, we were asked what we want to do next. The workshop was less than a week after the shock of the news and folks were loudly silent. I broke the ice: “I might like to try writing a book.” The consultant said, “Then you should start a blog.”
“I have one already.” A few heads nodded in the room because they are regular readers (Thank you!).
“Oh really? What’s it about?” she asked.
“Well, it’s about hope despite disability.” In a split second, I opted not to say it’s about Catherine, because it’s really not. It started that way, sure. She provides much of the backdrop because I learn so much from her. But it’s not really intended to be about “Catherine did this and Catherine did that” as much as it’s intended to be about hope I discover through her life.
One of the most profound things I’ve learned about hope despite disability – any kind of disability – is that hope appears because I look for it. I expect it to be there. And it is.
I thought about that as I face the fear, sadness and emptiness I feel going through a shut-down of a fifty-year-old business. I need to go out and look for hope. I’m looking forward to the excitement that will build in the new places to look. And you, Catherine, please keep flying while I venture out on my hope hunt.