Boy I was excited!
It was September 1, the first day of spring!
And in the words of Dr Seuss, I was “Off to great places!” Today was my day.
Why was I so delighted? Four amazing reasons, I felt that way:
One: I was off to the UK to visit my Dad, who I adored. It would be the first time in years I’d be seeing him.
Two: I was off to North America – for the first time since my birth there – on business, representing one of the most innovative, progressive new health businesses on earth.
My career of story-telling was about to align with the story of our health.
Together with a “Dream Team” of colleagues, cherry-picked by the CEO. We were about to change the game.
Three: I was in the shape of my life – stronger, fitter, faster, more agile and happier than in a decade. Bulletproof.
And, four: While I was away, my family would be cared for by my 2IC (second-in-charge), my beloved brother, Kim, godfather to all three of my children.
Sorted! “Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way!” Dr Seuss’s legendary cry echoed.
And then s*** happened. And then again. Again and again.
A few days before I was due to fly north to England and be reunited with my Dad, my phone rang. It was my youngest brother. He said simply: “I’m sorry. Dad is gone.”
My father had passed away, in his sleep. I’d never be seeing him again; not this Saturday, not ever.
This painful day seems to have set in motion a sequence of events that followed.
In the next 18 months:
Our extraordinary South African company was ruthlessly shut down by our US shareholders. Overnight. As Covid-19 hit.
I suffered serious neck injury with an out-of-the-blue idiopathic (unexplained) condition which shut down my muscles on the right side of my body, leading to dramatic muscle atrophy and neck surgery.
And as that 18-month passage of time drew to a close, my little brother Kim fell from Table Mountain, and died.
Out of four great loves and excitements, my score was 0-4.
And the pain was extreme – physically, and in every other way.
So then, why the story? After all, almost everyone has similar stories of grief, pain and loss to tell?
True.
I write to only offer this:
From looking around at the fall-out of pain, which tends to rain down upon us all, I can only offer my secret survival tool.
The one thing that I feel has saved me. And it’s this:
No regrets.
My Dad and I had a lifetime of longing – a permanent plea to spend time with each other. From opposite sides of the world, for decades on end.
But it was never a bitter pain – we somehow found so much joy in even the faintest contact, that our missing became a thing of beauty. Certainly, our reunions were exquisite, every single time.
Our longing represented the love we held. Maybe that’s PR, or spin – but that’s what it felt like.
Our company being mercilessly shut down?
Well, I gave it my all – and believe in that type of health business still.
The company behaved in a way it chose to – I remained true.
My neck? Ya, well, I have half a bicep, no right tricep, half a lat, half a sub-scap.
But, you know, my other nearby muscles have come to the party, and try to help my body along, as compensation. Thank you guys!
And my little brother’s flight, from the mountain he loved?
Ya, the pain of this was worse than all the others put together, ten-fold.
Did I survive? Yip. How? No regrets.
Because when Bear fell, you see, he knew deeply how much I loved him. I had left nothing unsaid.
There was even a column in the Cape Argus, one day, dedicated to my expression of adoration, for this gentle mountain warrior – and what he meant, to my wife, my three children, and I.
And the completeness we felt, when his Golf GTi roared up to our home, almost every Sunday.
No regrets.
Living this way is not just to mitigate pain – not just an off-the-shelf insurance policy, which may cover a percentage of the loss.
No, living this way allows one to simultaneously thrive, while suffering.
To find delight (De Light), at the same time as the darkness.
To find that elusive peace, in contradiction.
And that’s my little story. A brief moment of reflection, on a hectic Monday morning.
I hope you’ll share your stories, too?
Maybe we can all agree: No matter how dark the night, the sunrise is coming.
Always Face East.
No surrender…
