“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” ~ George Bernard Shaw
Right now in the United States, many of us are experiencing the transition from autumn to winter. The colorful leaves have fallen and in some places so has the snow. Some people embrace the change of seasons, while others flee to places where the change is not so drastic.
As a native of Minnesota, I’m accustomed to dramatic changes in the weather, although the older I get, the harder it is to appreciate those changes. However, I understand that the change of seasons results in the breathtaking beauty that abounds in my state. In autumn, the countryside displays a palette of brilliant colors; in spring, wildflowers cover the hillsides; in summer, the magnificence of our many lakes remains unsurpassed; and in winter, the pristine snow spreads a sparkling blanket over the frozen earth.
In Minnesota, many of us don’t look forward to the end of autumn and the advent of the snow and bitter cold of winter. In Texas, they don’t want spring to end, because summer brings stifling heat and drought. But, guess what? The seasons will change whether we want them to or not. So it goes with our lives.
Too many of us become set in our ways as we grow older, fearful and resistant to change of any kind. But, as the Borg say, “Resistance is futile.” Your life will change, so why not embrace those changes?
Over the years I’ve experienced several dramatic changes, some I had power over, while others bulldozed their way through my life. As I mentioned in the second post of this series, I have few regrets, and that includes my life changes.
I made a major change in 1991 when I became an independent business owner. I had been working for various publications and printing companies for about a decade, and had been dissatisfied with the direction my career was headed. I had gotten burned out as a manager and was working for a supervisor who not only had less knowledge and experience than I, but frequently took credit for my work. When the opportunity arose, I went back to work for a small printing company where I had been previously employed.
Within a year, everyone else in the department had either left or been fired, and the owner of the business asked if I was interested in buying out the entire art department, equipment and all. Not only that, but he was willing to finance my purchase and agreed to give me all his pre-press business. It was a leap of faith and a scary time in my life, but one that proved to me what I had always suspected: I was suited to be an entrepreneur, not an employee.
Some changes in my life were detrimental at the time, but they’ve all made me stronger in the long run. Those changes have also pushed me to step out of my comfort zone and have given me confidence in my own abilities. One negative change that turned out to have a positive effect on me was the death of my father.
For as long as I could remember, I had been at odds with my dad. My mother said it was because we were so much alike, and he saw in me what he considered the worst in himself. I was a defiant child, always challenging authority. He was a totalitarian who demanded unquestioning respect. We clashed continuously, and I was a disappointing daughter. But, Dad was always there for me, even if I hadn’t realized it then.
The first time I ever saw my father’s pride in me was when my daughter was born. Strangely, her birth was a result of his greatest disappointment in me. Our relationship improved dramatically after I became a mother, but we were still not close. That all changed when my father was diagnosed with leukemia.
I had remarried by then, and my husband got along well with Dad. He had helped us buy a home by loaning us the downpayment, and he had given me some financial advice when I started my business. We visited my parents nearly every weekend in the summer at their place at the lake and traveled to Florida to spend Christmas with them.
Dad didn’t tell any of us when he received his diagnosis. We didn’t find out he was sick until their Florida home had been sold, and he had made plans for the two of them to move into an assisted-living complex near me. Thus began a journey with my father that, despite the end result, I wouldn’t change.
In the months that followed, I took Dad to his medical appointments, picked up his medications, went over the doctor’s orders with him, and eventually changed his dressings and gave him injections. As the days passed, our talks while we sat in waiting rooms and pharmacies changed from trivial chit-chat to personal conversations. I learned more about my father in those few months than I had in my whole lifetime.
He shared his deepest feelings, those of disappointment, pride, disillusion, joy, and forgiveness. He spoke of his worry about what would happen to my mother after he was gone. She had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease seven years earlier, and he revealed that she was much worse off then we knew.
As it became obvious that the end was near, our talks became more practical, discussing his funeral arrangements, bequests, and instructions for after he was gone. But Dad also revealed his vulnerable side. Despite his strong religious faith, in the end, as I sat beside him, he told me he was afraid. I told him I was too. Then, he was gone.
Yes, I wish my father had been with me longer, but if that meant I wouldn’t have experienced that last year of his life just as it was, I wouldn’t change a thing.
NOTE: This is the year I celebrate (?) seven decades residing on this planet. My journey so far has taught me many life lessons, so I decided to share some of them with you. I’ll be posting one each day from Thanksgiving to Christmas.
Yesterday: Share Your Knowledge
Tomorrow: Be Curious
