Tag: loss

Suffering and Sacrifice

 

I’ve always had an insatiable appetite for knowing why people think the way they do. Not just what they think, but why they hold certain beliefs and pursue certain causes. Dr. Bastiat’s latest post rang true: I’ve no doubt that the Left, in general, hates the Right and everything we stand for. But I wanted to expand on his theory in a way that sounds even more ominous. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the behavior of the Left looks like hate, but the results they want are more frightening:

They are prepared to sacrifice all of us to the power gods—literally—because we are in their way.

Much has already been said about the destruction of our culture; our moral fabric has been torn. People want something to believe in, and depression and anxiety are rampant. And the Left realizes they must destroy us to fully realize their goals for power. I think they stir up hatred toward us with the Leftist masses, but I believe their elite pushes for power are cold and self-serving.

Winter, Loss, Love, and the Crises that Bind Us

 

Our own prolific contributor Susan Quinn says more thought-provoking things in a week than I think in a year, and I appreciate her for it. One of her recent posts, G-d Interrupted, prompted an interesting conversation about the theological implications of suffering. It’s a profound topic, one that has been visited again and again throughout history by thinkers greater than any of us here. If it remains an open and interesting question (and one at least tangentially related to her subsequent post, Do People Really Believe in Prayer?), that’s because it is, in my opinion, a question for which no satisfactory answer will ever be found, and yet a question that all of us must eventually ask ourselves.

Susan’s posts resonate with me right now for several reasons, for a confluence of personal tragedies suffered by people close to me. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, my mother passed away at Thanksgiving, in the middle of weeks of family health crises and the internecine tension that almost inevitably accompanies such painful transitions. I spoke this week with one of my oldest friends, whose teenage daughter recently took her own life. Tonight I learned that a friend’s high-school-aged son collapsed yesterday on the basketball court at our little Catholic school, his EKG showing frightening abnormalities that have him in the hospital now for extensive tests. I had lunch recently with a friend who lost her only two children in a tragic accident: I don’t know how people recover from something like that.

A Tribute to Chris

 

Dear Kip,

When I saw the red envelope that Jerry brought in with the mail, I knew it was likely a Christmas card and glanced at the return address label in the upper left corner. And I saw only your name. I knew instantly that Chris had passed on.

But you stepped in to send the scheduled Christmas card and Christmas letter. It was so generous of you to carry on that tradition, since it was Chris’ project for both of you. And I also understand your not continuing that tradition, unless another family member steps in. Not only is it not your personal passion, but somehow it seems like it’s time to move on.

It’s Hard to Get Old

 

We sat around the oaken table following the singing performance. My friend was sitting next to me; Eloise was sitting on my other side; and Joe sat quietly next to her. He seemed especially restrained after enjoying the music. I listened in to his conversation with Eloise:

Joe: I think it’s time for us to head home.

On the Passing of Pets

 

I just deleted the draft of a think piece on the abuse of climate change girl and using kids as political props because something way more important, to me, anyway, has happened. Our 13 1/2 year old dog died. It’s not like we didn’t see it coming a few months ago as he was experiencing some changes in behavior. I looked him straight in the eyes the morning of September 11 during my usual bout of tears every year on that morning and told him, “Don’t do this today.” He didn’t listen, and did what he pleased, as was his usual way.

Our daughter wanted to adopt a puppy from a local shelter with her $40 in birthday money she had received when she turned 8. She picked out the runt of a litter of 13 pups someone had abandoned at the shelter. We never knew his breed, just that he was like a shepherd, collie, husky, something. It didn’t matter. He was perfect to her. She spent her $40 and we spent the rest, which as anyone with dogs knows, isn’t chump change over 13+ years. We’d totally do it all again. Anyway, she named him Lucky, and that he was. He probably wouldn’t have lived past 5 years old with anyone that couldn’t have taken care of him the way he needed. Everyone would say we saved him, but in reality, he saved us. As dogs do.

To Herb Meyer’s Memory

 

Over the years, Ricochet has inspired lasting friendships, not least of which is many members’ friendship with @tommeyer, who’s not only a great guy, but someone who rendered Ricochet great service before he moved on to other things. When Herb Meyer, Tom’s father, died, the outpouring of thanksgiving for Herb’s life was tremendous. At the time, I dedicated a motet I was working on to Herb’s memory, but life having gotten in the way, I haven’t had a chance to share it with the Ricoverse until now:

Book Review: I Want To Live

 

“The absolute raw truth of the matter is this: I have no idea what I am doing now, much less what I will be doing a year from now. Years of living my life for another person has left me without a clue as to how to live for myself.” from the book,

“I Want to Live – Confessions of a Grieving Caretaker by Susan D. McDaniel.

Quote of the Day: Nothing Lasts

 

“We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells, bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off-limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea.” — Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart

 At a rational level, we all know that we will eventually die. But it seems like a far off ending to our lives. The fact is, though, that everything dies. We can’t hold on to anything forever: relationships end, flowers die, cars end up in junkyards, no matter how often we try to save them.

In Memory of the Greatest Dog Ever

 

Koda was a runner, an escape artist. That’s how we became the owner of this beautiful Chocolate Lab a little over 11 years ago. I’m a dog lover, but I had always wanted a Lab. They are, in my opinion, the perfect dog. Great with kids, eager to please, gentle, loyal, loving … the list goes on.

Our friends had bought a purebred Chocolate Lab as a puppy with the hopes of turning him into a hunting dog. But his schedule as the mascot of a local sports team and the unexpected arrival of child #4 didn’t leave much time for training. Add to that Koda’s propensity to explore, and after getting picked up by animal control a few too many times, they realized they needed to let him go to someone who had time to train him.

On a Friday afternoon in June of 2007, we adopted him. Saturday morning we had him fixed, hoping this would curb some of his running tendencies. (Hint: it didn’t.) Our boys, then 5 and 8, fell head over heels in love with Koda. In fact, everyone who met him fell in love with Koda, and if they didn’t, he’d work them over until they did. He had the sweetest disposition. He always wanted to be with his people, whatever we were doing.

[Member Post]

 

It’s been a tough week for me and for people in my life. On a general human level, the massacre in Orlando would have been tough enough. Then I found out my husband’s cousin (who is like a sister to me) has been given two months to two years to live; her body has been […]

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Finding the ‘Fun’ in Funeral

 

Hello, Ricochet! It’s been a while, but I have a good excuse. A year ago this month, my oldest brother, Dave, took his life after decades struggling with alcohol abuse. We always knew this was a possibility, but we never really believed it would happen.

Dave kept his thoughts of suicide well hidden. He never showed the classic signs of someone who was going to kill himself. I still hurt to this day over his death. It’s a wound that will heal, but will always leave a scar. That’s not where the story ends , however, because in the midst of all the pain, and there was a lot, something hilarious happened: the Patterson family got to plan a funeral.