He was 56 years old. He was the best friend a person could have—kind, generous and always willing to go the extra mile. I cannot begin to tell you how much I miss him.
The day after he died, I began a journey to pick up the pieces, to figure out what was broken, and what was still whole. My first reaction was to try to fix what was broken. I’ve since come to realize that it’s okay to leave some things broken, they are reminder of what has been lost.
But I also have come to realize that even though I can’t have what I had with Bill, there can be joy again.
Oddly enough, there is almost nothing that is the same in my life now as it was when Bill was alive.
I have been sorting through an enormous amount of possessions that had been stored in green bins. (I have an assortment of “bin” jokes: 1-If you have been to storage and carried back a carload of bins, you have “bin there and done that.”; 2-If you are carrying a bin full of heavy stuff, you are “Bin Laden.”; to name a just a few.
When I stop thinking about the overwhelming task of sorting 5 storage spaces full of STUFF, it has had it’s fun moments. I have managed to give just about every one of my neighbors something that they could use, almost exactly when they needed it. (In fact, I have used one set of wine glasses at my neighbor Jan’s more than I used it when I owned it!)
My greatest joy has been teaching basic computer skills for Mitchell Community College at the Skills Center in Statesville, NC. I teach two nights a week and I supervise/assist people at the public internet access period two nights a week. Teaching in the evenings is not something I would have considered while Bill was alive—we enjoyed each other’s company and spent most of our time together, both at work and at home.
Last night my fifth ten-week session graduated. (I’ve been teaching for one year.)
We have helped each other in our struggles. On the first day, most of my students had not ever used a computer. Twelve out of fifteen registered students graduated. (Nine of them had perfect attendance.) All of them learned how to type and doubled or tripled their typing speed.
We have cheered each other on, in our searches for work. They have been amazed at the number of part-time jobs I have put together to earn my living and the concept of being self-employed. Thankfully, my smaller jobs seem to be leading to the possibility of more hours.
Last night we took the time to celebrate our successes big and small. Everyone brought something to eat. We made room in our lives for ceremony. I called each person’s name and he or she came up to the podium to accept his or her certificate. We gave each person the opportunity to speak to the group, to tell them what they learned or what they liked best about the class. Suzanne Wallace, my supervisor from Mitchell was there and she congratulated each person individually.
Even my shyest students were able to speak to the group. I was so proud of the changes I could see in all of them. It was wonderful to be a part of it.
What I have learned in the past two years is to chip away at huge tasks a small portion at a time. When it seems as if nothing is changing—don’t quit, keep going. In a “marathon” type project, resting occasionally is essential, but stopping completely is not an option.
To all of you who know me, I am a self-employed, self-starter and probable overachiever. (Okay, definite overachiever.) I have had a career of making things happen.
Unfortunately, life can hand you something where you can’t simply “make it happen.” I often tell my students: “I need to have more faith in God and you need to have more faith in yourselves.”
Good things can happen in our lives, with patience and with the ability to change our perception from what we want (or had) to what is happening now.
At the top of this blog is a photograph of my class. Top row from left to right: Ellen Beckerman (me), Dan Ervin, Zendarsky Mattison, Daisy Stokes, Anita Gray, William Johnson, Tyna Redmond, Aishus Watts, Jr., Suzanne Wallace. Second row: Angela Bruce, Patricia Corpening, Cynthia Smith, Dondi Smith.
I extend my congratulations to each one of them and to any one who reads this entry who is continuing in life-long learning.
Thanks for sharing a few moments with me.
Ellen
