The other day I was thinking about how serendipitous life has been (as in, occurring in a reasonably beneficial way). Let’s review the facts:
- April: I nailed my midwifery interview in Hamilton. Hashtag, NAILED IT.
- April: I traveled to Turkey, Germany, and Denmark, so I was pleasantly distracted from finding out about my entire future in health care. I saw my Omi, and family. I drove a car in Istanbul and didn’t die. I flew in a hot air balloon. I swam amongst ancient ruins.
- June: I got into McMaster! I’m going to be a midwife!
- Late-June: I resigned from my job to follow this life-affirming dream of being a midwife. I am honoured and humbled with an amazing goodbye party in August. People are extremely kind and this causes me to question my decision.
- August: I leave my life, travel across the country with a cat. I start school. I’m extremely unprepared.
- September: I find out my Dad’s pancreatic cancer is terminal.
- September: I travel back in rush-mode. My 30 newest midwife friends rally around me in support, along with my support system in BC.
- September: My cat poops on a plane.
- September to December: I care for my Dad for 3.5 months. I absorb every hug, every moment, every conversation. I learn a lot about laxatives, pain medication, and cancer.
- October: I start a business (who is the crazy one again?) as a communications consultant. I work from home, and am blessed to have people who believe in my abilities to support this. I finish my first project mid-November.
- October to December: I live with crazy Mexicans. My Spanish and patience are tested daily. I am a star in a telenovela with many episodes.
- November: I take my Dad to his first Canucks game. This becomes the best day of my life.
- December 6 – my Dad dies. I break a chair in a funeral home. This becomes the most horrible day of my life.
- December: I take time-off and am very, very sad. I am surrounded by love and respect.
- Today: I realize that if I were still in my old life – my 9 (ish) to 5, desk job with the amazing view – it would’ve been very difficult to allow a whole month of time for myself. To be sad whenever I wanted. To be a psycho griever. It would also have been much more difficult to be an Executrix (slash stripper), and to care for my brother.Gosh, how do people grieve and live life? Some people only get 2 days off! In that regard, somehow life has taken care of me, and I feel lucky. Is it weird that I feel lucky, after all that?
Holy crap life. Holy crap. Let’s move forward, shall we?