If I actually wrote a Xmas letter it would probably sound something like this…
2016 was rather uneventful for the Freedman family. Just like our nation!
While the nation welcomed in a man of questionable character, a thin-skinned, petty little man, the Freedmans followed the opposite course and threw their man out.
For those unaware, I moved out of my home last April. No big deal. Evidently it was 28 years coming.
Instead of choosing a Cabinet, I chose a new home, a spacious, yet tiny apartment in the shadows of the National Cathedral. I’m not saying I’m hoping the neighborhood is ground zero the next time religious zealots do something whack-a-doodle in these United States, but a guy can dream, can’t he?
Okay, let’s go a bit more traditional and do the month-to-month thing.
Not much to report.
Does it even matter?
Jon moves out. All sorts of hilarity ensues. And, by “hilarity,” I mean, the humorous foibles of someone living alone for the first time in three decades, adjusting to his new world.
May – July
Jon spent a fair amount of time with his new bestie, Mark. First name, “Maker’s.”
August – Nov
Shockingly, at least to me, Jon began adjusting to his new life.
It was a combination of factors. He realized anything is possible. He became friends with Buddha. He got serious about writing. He started walking. He reconnected with dear friends and made new ones.
Enough of the Xmas letter.
The holidays — the single biggest challenge since the end of my marriage. Besides the actual move out of my home, I suppose.
I am employing different strategies and tactics to get through the next couple weeks.
At times I feel like I’m crawling through a familial minefield of happy and sad memories, resentments, and unspoken feelings. The air heavy with long-practiced traditions and obligations.
I will take part in long-practiced traditions I have absolutely no interest in attending. I know my middle daughter, the one most upset by change, needs me to partake. Like I have her entire life.
That’s enough of a reason for me.
At the same time I am trying to forge new traditions with my daughters. That’s a challenge. I am low on my daughters’ list of priorities. I just need to keep chipping away at their reluctance to see who I’ve become.
In the meanwhile, I am trying to mediate more frequently. I remind myself to take mindful pauses, to find compassion for others and myself.
The remarkable fact is, I wouldn’t change a thing that has taken place in 2016.
Despite all the changes I’ve undergone, the amount of mourning I’ve experienced over what I’ve lost, I found my voice. And perhaps, for the first time, learned the importance of taking care of his self.
Finally, to all the readers, the followers, and the friends, you’re all part of my journey. I cannot begin to express the gratitude I feel towards you, for your support, your own tales of trials, tribulations, pains, and pleasures.
I no longer walk alone.
Merry Merry and Happy Happy,
P.S. The William Blake quote is an interesting little nugget. For those familiar with Blake, the quote reflects the author’s devout religious beliefs. The lovely aspect of the quote is it works in virtually all belief systems. If there are any Satanists following the blog, I am not sure how gratitude fits in. Oh well.
P.P.S. Silly, without doubt. Sometimes silly is good.