They say that change is inevitable and change is constant. When
you’re someone’s caregiver, it doesn’t feel like you ever get off the hamster
wheel. Change doesn’t happen, not to you. Not in your house. Not in your bubble
that you call your life. It just keeps going. Things around you change. People
change. The seasons change. But your life remains, in essence, the same.
You go through the same routine, every day. The variables
change. But the scenario is always the same. It’s the same way when you’re
dealing with grief. You go through the steps, you keep pace. But you don’t
always feel like you’ve changed.
There’s a major component missing in your life, when people
die. But the way you feel doesn’t change the way the seasons do, always. The
grief remains constant. The void never fills in. But life never stops moving,
around you. So when you break free of that for moments? There is change. There
has been change.
Sometimes you have to create your own change. This week, I
resigned from my position at work. I’ve been where I am now for a little short
of 13 years. My life has, without a doubt, changed since I signed my employment
packet with them. I turned 21, I got cheaper car insurance when I turned 25, I
turned 30, I graduated from college, I survived a house fire, I lost friends,
my relationship status changed, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, my dad
died, my sister got married, co-workers
passed away, my job status changed, I got my first management position, I got
my first office, I got my first company car, I bought my own first car, I lost
pets, I got new wonderful pets, my housing situation changed – all of these
things (and so many more) happened while I worked for my company. The one thing
that remained steady was my employment. The place I went every day. The place
my father had walked into…so many times. That was the steady part of the last
13 years of my life.
But like they say, change is inevitable – evolution is
optional. Which means that sometimes you have to take the change, embrace it,
and move forward. While it’s inevitable that things change, that we must accept
it, that we must even intiate it at times – it doesn’t make it easy. It doesn’t
mean that walking away from everything you know, your comfort zones, the people
you consider friends and even family is easy. It’s the exact opposite. Leaving
somewhere that you know, somewhere that you have grown up – it’s heart
wrenching. It’s terrifying. And it’s so exciting all at once.
My father once tried to tell me that you work hard at work,
you even do things you hate, so that you can enjoy the time you’re not at work.
I’ve taken the opposite approach. And been mocked by him since then. I wanted
to love my job, I wanted my soul to feel fulfilled, I expect to have a sense of
peace from what I do for a living. He’d be proud to know that I found a place I
think I can do just that. He’d be even more proud that I actually said yes and
left my comfort zone…which also means I have to leave the offices he’s sat in a
hundred times. I have to leave the ghost of him walking through my work’s front
doors behind me and start a new chapter.
For someone who didn’t change much for 3 and a half years
while we spent his last days with him? Change seems hard. We spent so long not
wanting things to change, hoping for things to always hold as steady as they
can. When you’re dealing with cancer – hearing the words no change is usually a
positive thing. I’m sure my Dad would understand that. I also am pretty sure he’s
somewhere rolling his eyes, telling me to suck it up, soldier, and grinning
from ear to ear that I am ready to take on the next part of my life.
….don’t worry though, I’m not going far, which just means I’ll
be able to visit my memories of him at work and my work family whenever I want.
Just as an outsider. Which also means they have to treat me like a guest. I’ll take
a coffee with 3 cream and 3 sugar, guys.
Here’s to the next chapter, to change, and to hoping you’ve
made your parents hard work at turning you into a decent human being worth it.
