This, as a veritable melting pot of words, has been sitting in my drafts for months now, and I have not been able to bring myself to finally complete it and publish it for all the world to see. Today, I do so, because I’m ready to do that which brings me comfort. I’m ready to flick my pen across paper and begin, once again, the creative outpouring that comforts me and yet simultaneously stretches my comfort level. Because I’ve had these words sloshing around my head for months now, that simply would not coalesce into some kind of complete thesis, I do so now with the added bonus of coagulating them into some form of organized synopsis. I have so much more that I want to write about, so much that I feel I need to say about a mind-numbing plethora of themes, that I feel it necessary to bring closure on these failed jump-starts and backfires of writings that never saw the light of day, before I can continue with other, more current, but not nearly as pressing, concerns.
And so, onward…
Introduction
On February 17th, 2008, Andrew John Sesock III, my father, passed away due to complications from adult-onset cystic fibrosis and other illnesses he battled over the past several years. He was 61.
End of an Epoch
On April 10th, 2007, I submitted my formal resignation to Oklahoma State University and began the two-month long process of documenting the last five years of building a robust series of mature systems from almost scratch. On June 11th, 2007, I started my tenure as an Identical Blue Man at another three-letter firm in another city, with different job responsibilities doing something I had never done before. It was… daunting to say the least. I graduated from OSU, personally (as in, only with the help of friends and not professional movers, a mistake I did not repeat and intend to not repeat ever again) packed all of my belongings and relocated them 80 miles away, and wiped my slate clean for the first time in almost eight years. I moved into a clean, beautiful, and upscale townhouse and took on the arduous task of getting my belongings, home, friends, career, relationships, finances, and other components of this long-running unscripted sub-Shakespearean comedy I call a life which are too numerous to mention, in some semblance of order.
I almost finished.
The scattering of souls
I had not moved in six years, and I had not relocated towns in just shy of eight. For all intents and purposes, I was the one achieving escape velocity for a change, doing the leaving instead of being the leavee (for lack of a less harmonic sounding term), an experience I had grown thoroughly weary of. I thought this was a good thing. I had thought the thrill of a new town, replete with new places, new friends, new excitements and a new home, would bring with it just the change of scenery I had been yearning for (and at least in this forum, whining about) for quite some time. But it brought more of the same, and one might argue, less of the same. I knew practically no one in Tulsa, compared to my old home in Stillwater, save for two old Stillwater friends and a few new work acquaintances who seemed like they could develop into better, closer friends with time. Granted, there seemed to be significantly less drama and a great deal more maturity that permeated this town, but, in hindsight, I was lonely. I hadn’t felt that for any duration or any great quantity since I had left my childhood home, 8 years hence.
The one thing Stillwater had provided me with, at least when I originally moved there to start college, was a few friends I already knew, and of course, the college experience with which to rapidly gain more. Tulsa offered only two old friends, who were just as busy as I, geographically located on the other side of the metro, and married to each other with the time investment such a coupling entails, meaning that I could not just pop by for a quick chat about any of our usual topics, be it politics, relationships, or for all intents and purposes, stuff I put in my blog when I think everyone else is tired of listening. I was also not finding anyone else rapidly that seemed to operate on this wavelength with me. While phone and computers are our new communications friends, there’s something significantly more satiating with being next to a friend, instead of just hearing their voice or reading their words, and of course, there was no one I was to that level with that was nearby. Anybody that knew me well enough to be my sounding board, was hundreds, if not thousands of miles away and involved in their own day-to-days. Once again, I had experienced a scattering of souls, but worse yet, I myself had been scattered to the wind, and this time I didn’t even have the solace of a recognizable comfort-zone where I knew the likelihood was high I could discover more kindred spirits.
Castaway
I began to adjust, slowly but surely, to my new life in this strange place. I obviously still clung, telecommunicatively, to those whom had shared the path with me for so long, but I began to find my own footing. It was a longer, harder journey then that which I had experienced when coming to college, and not just for the logistical reasons I have explained, but because I was a stranger, and if you’ll pardon the cliche/book-title reference, in a strange land. In hindsight, I never had a comfort level in Tulsa. My first night in my new apartment, I completely overlooked a disquieting disconnected dysphoria that churned invisible beneath the roiling soup of emotions I was experiencing: anxiety, excitement, freedom, determination, and glee, among others. I never had that in my Stillwater home of six years; it just felt right, from day one.
What I didn’t realize is that this dysphoria would present itself more strongly in the coming months, that I would start to get a very fuzzy picture that there was something not quite right. It’s difficult to put my finger on, and even more difficult to explain, but it is as though I wasn’t part of this world, almost imperceptibly out of frame and out of touch, but still enough to create this nagging itch buried deep in my brain. In short, I didn’t belong in Tulsa, in this apartment, surrounded by these people, and I knew it. Just barely.
To clarify, the job itself was, is, and I remain confident, will continue to be for some time, great. The work is interesting, (though I still, to this day, don’t know as much as I’d like to), my coworkers are brilliant, my bosses are superb managers, and the corporate culture is a sublime mix between being light and informal, and professional and reserved. It was merely the geographical, residential and relational places I was in that caused me this quiet, stewing disharmony.
Voyage home
My residency in Tulsa came to an end, after only six brief months, so that I could move back down to Oklahoma City and help my father around the house. He had been fighting off an opportunistic infection he contracted during chemotherapy and radiation therapy from his colon cancer several years ago, and in tandem with cystic fibrosis and other health problems, needed a helping hand if he was to move back into his home, alone. My new employer has a large and well-established Work-From-Home (WFH) program, and my boss allowed me to go on temporary WFH status, so I mulled, stewed, and finally decided to pack my things once again on extremely short notice, and relocate my hind-end back down in the town of my birth and subsequent childhood, Oklahoma City.
Once I had made the decision, I came to terms with how it affected me, and what I must do to make it happen. It just seemed… natural. Perhaps that disharmonious discord was pushing me just hard enough to give me the courage to make this drastic and sudden change, and the drive to make it happen quickly and efficiently. I had a very good reason to move down to Oklahoma City, to take care of my father. Of course, when making the decision, I didn’t realize I would only get a few months. I thought, and I’m guessing my father did as well, that he had several more years left in him, and that there would be more time. I didn’t feel the pressure to make such a sweeping change in my life due to the immediate necessity, as I wasn’t sure there was any immediate necessity. I knew that helping my father out was a noble goal and that he could certainly use it, but I didn’t realize it would be so temporary. The last necessary push was from this weak discordian force, strong enough to overcome the inertia and drag, present primarily in my excuses and arguments with myself, that I constantly and continuously use to keep myself from taking drastic, sweeping, and frightening risks. That little, minuscule discord added to my sense of duty to help my father just enough to do something I had never done before: Take a major risk, uproot myself, and do something I knew I should do.
But even with my resolve, as I made my way back to Oklahoma City in early December, coming full circle back to the city of my childhood, a single thought was lurking through the darker corners of my mind and occassionally surfacing like the Loch Ness Monster in the cool calm waters of an otherwise resolute psyche:”2008 is going to be a rough year.”
To recap, 2007 was a year of change for me, a new city, a new job, but for all intents and purposes, this was positive change. Frightening, different, maybe even way too rapid of change, but for the most part, all positive changes, and certainly something I could have gotten used to. It’s possible, and I have to admit this, that over time my disharmonious feelings may have diminished and even dissipated. However, I watched a multitude of my friends suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in 2007, and I wept for them, but I awaited my hard times as well. When would the other shoe drop? When would I need the same support I had offered all those that had called or come by in frustration, in tears, or in just pure, dead-on-their-feet stumbling exhaustion from simply too much life to keep walking on their own? I knew, consciously and subconsciously, that what goes up must come down, and I was bracing myself for my own fall.
Rapid Maturation
Since February 17th, my life has been filled with lessons. In the University of Life, College of Practical Education, Department of Compoundingly Difficult Metaphorical Blows (also known colloquially to the faculty as the School of Hard Knocks), I’ve had a few a few pop quizzes come my way I knew that in all eventuality I would be forced to take, and hopefully pass.
I wish I had studied.
The lessons, or rather exams, have been numerous, and have included such mundane learning experiences as “How to go through the process of probate without losing what’s left of your hair”, followed by “How to become a homeowner in the span of a week when you weren’t really ready.” Some of the more complex topics have been “How to tell who your real friends are and how to get rid of the ones that aren’t,” “How to support and be supported by family, and thus grow closer to them in a time of tragedy,” and “How to fall in love again in a time of turmoil and still make it work somehow.”
To top it off, I count myself as extremely fortunate. Because of the way circumstances neatly wrapped up together, I was able to spend almost three great months with my father.
All Good Things…
It occurs to me that what I have gone through, millions of others have gone through before me. Granted, my father was very young, and having never really had to do deal with the loss of a family member before, this is an extra shock. However, in the span of a matter of weeks, I truly came to understand, and not just know, that part of life is its ending, and all good things, including my time with my father, must come to an end.
Post-realization, I have had a torrent of thoughts rush through my head, some excellent lessons in a silver-lining sense, some emotionally devastating, and some that have passed me by with a nod and a regard, and nothing more. One of the more positive thoughts that has come into slow focus over the last 7 months is that if my life were one giant moving sidewalk, in this case all I did was jump on at the right time and let the path itself take me to my next stop. In the philosophical sense, I have been a leaf on the wind, and merely by letting go, and letting myself be moved instead of moving myself, I have ended up perfectly… and without having to force my life into perfect harmony… exactly where I need to be.
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