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| Tracey Carruthers |
I met Tracey in October,
2006, when she came to Chicago to move in with our friend, Delle Chatman. Her
devotion to making Delle’s last days as meaningful and peaceful as possible was
inspiring (if sometimes annoying when I was feeling most selfish). Her
reflection on those days is longer than my typical posts, but worth every
word. I'm grateful that she was there for Delle and has shared her experience with us all:
Thought
doesn’t get much more personal and unclear than during a time of loss. In a
way, in the matter of how we feel and how we deal with our feelings, it really
doesn’t matter what the loss is; a job, a bet, a game, a tradition, a loved
one…the important thing to remember is our feelings are our first clues to the
quality of our thinking—our state of mind—and that’s what creates the quality
of our experience of Life. In this
case…our experience of loss.
But
Death feels so final, so absolute. We are consumed with feelings of guilt,
despair, regret and so much more. We want to know, “Why? Why Now?”
And yes, in those ominous times of terminal diagnosis, we want to know,
“Why me?”
As
a coach I often engage in these most intimate of conversations with clients and
relatives and friends. The recurring
theme revolves around how it feels: how it feels to lose someone who is the
center of your life, how it feels to imagine the rest of your life without the
presence of such a vital force, how it feels to face your own immortality and
even…how it feels to die.
From
1980 to 2000, I was intimately involved as personal care taker, minister of last
rites and planner of funeral arrangements for all of my immediate family
members; my father in 1980, my husband in 1995, my fraternal grandmother in
1999 and my mother in 2000. There were other losses just as intimate and just as
traumatic during those years—my maternal grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, close
friends and lovers—that touched me just as deeply. Yet, no matter how many
touch my life directly; it is clear to me that I am connected to and called to
acknowledge all death. Every death, everywhere, touches me; enjoins me to
justify my existence. There is no death, anywhere, that does not oblige me to
look for something good—some meaning, some reason, some validation of the
underlying purpose of Life.
Over
those 20 years, I became adept, almost routinely conditioned to “handle” the
ceremonial relationship I had established with Death. Those who knew me well were
deeply concerned and wondered how long I could keep up the pace. “It seems like you’ve had more than your
share,” one friend said. “I worry about
you.”
She
had cause to worry, because there was one phase of the life-loss-legacy
experience that I had avoided or perhaps just hadn’t taken time to fully
explore…Grief.
2006
was a time of transition in my life. I
had recently retired and was weighing my options, in search of direction. I was seeking discernment, learning to listen
to my intuitive voice, and studying with Dr. Ron Jue, internationally
recognized for his work as an executive coach.
His training—focused on integrating life, work and spirituality for
greater effectiveness and fulfillment—prepared me for my most revealing
rendezvous with Death.
In
October I went to Chicago to help out a friend who had been living for four
years with ovarian cancer. Delle and I
had known each other since my early days in California in the 80’s. She wrote in Hollywood for many years, creating ground
breaking characters such as an African American cowboy for the ABC series, “The
Young Riders.” She wrote the original
screenplay for the award winning Showtime film, “Free of Eden,” starring Sidney
Poitier. She authored two books, “The Unteachable Ten,” and “Death of a
Parent.”
In
Chicago she taught, preached and ministered at St. Gertrude’s Catholic Church
and expanded her reach through a television ministry on WTTW’s “30 Good Minutes.” She taught radio, TV and film writing to high
school and college students as Associate Professor of Creative Writing at
Northwestern and DePaul Universities.
She was an accomplished photographer who printed and sold her
photographs as computer-augmented works of art.
And as if all that wasn’t enough, she gave birth to a remarkable
daughter, Ramona, who is destined to do great things.
My
search for direction and discernment had led me to understand that my purpose in
life was to serve and coach those who were led by the Spirit. My immediate
assignment was to take care of this incredible woman.
Everything
I had learned from 1980 to 2000…every encounter with hospitals, doctors, cancer
treatments, hospice care-givers, accountants, lawyers, bureaucracy; every exhausting
experience of contacting loved ones, writing obituaries, completing funeral
arrangements, nurturing, disseminating personal effects…everything
came into play for Delle. Most of it was
accomplished without conscious thought, sometimes executed in a thoughtless,
robotic manner.
The
key, the thing that made it all possible was the help of others. During the
almost two months that I spent with Delle, her home was filled with visitors,
friends and volunteers. A selected group that we called Delle’s Elves was the
core. They arranged and delivered a
daily, nutritious meal service for the entire family. They drove her daughter
to dance lessons and cancer support meetings. They meticulously catalogued and
archived Delle’s intellectual property; thousands of photographs, works of art,
manuscripts, journals, lectures, lesson plans, sermons, video and audio tapes,
books, journals, office and art supplies.
They sorted clothing and personally delivered it to Delle’s designated
charities. They filed her taxes, packed her effects, recommended a mover to
ship it all for safe keeping and engaged a trusted real estate agent to sell
her condo.
They
worked tirelessly day and night, pausing only to sit and minister to and
receive a blessing from the special servant who had been so faithful to them
over years. When she made her
transition, they carried out Delle’s wishes to the letter, serving a gathering
of hundreds at her Memorial Mass, and hosting and contributing to a grand
celebration after the service. They nurtured her daughter, her brothers, her
extended family, each other and me.
Their
acts of kindness provided living testimony to Delle’s goodness. Their
unconditional love proclaimed a legacy most aspire to but few achieve. Finally
I understood the meaning, the reason, the purpose of a life well lived. Delle’s
life and the homage her friends paid to that life, was the ultimate validation,
the proof positive that it’s the good that we do that makes the difference,
that leaves the mark that lasts for all time.
I
am grateful to have witnessed this manifestation of true love, and when I
finally returned home there was one more blessing waiting for me.
In
the year that followed Delle’s death I experienced grief that was, at times,
overwhelming. I functioned, traveled,
worked, coached, completed a book and lived a relatively normal life. But there are months of 2007 that are still a
blur.
There
were times when I couldn’t bear to leave my home. I would get dressed for an event and then
cancel at the last minute. I missed holidays, jazz festivals, birthday
celebrations, hair appointments and nights out with the girls. I avoided my family and friends. When I did go out, I would shop as close to
home as possible, avoiding eye contact with others, praying that no one would
speak to me or require me to acknowledge their presence.
There
were other, miraculous times when the grief process was truly enlightening. I
somehow managed to travel to the Caribbean, France, Montenegro, Chicago, Atlanta, New Orleans and San Francisco that year. I knew that I was running away, trying to
avoid the deep feelings that had engulfed me. I also knew that I needed to be
with close friends, experience new adventures and revisit traditional, familiar
haunts.
It
took a year. I can’t tell you that I
went through any specific phases in any regimental order. I can’t even say that
I was consumed with the loss of such a vital, important, and loving spirit. Nor
can I say for certain that it is over. The experience was all-encompassing,
dynamic and purposeful. I believe that I was grieving for all those whose
deaths had touched me so deeply. In truth, I had never taken time to fully
recognize their lives or my loss.
In
her book, “Death of a Parent,” Delle writes, “You’ve buried one
of the giants in your world—your mother or your father…maybe both…Yet,
everything else in your life is to a large extent just where you left it. The load at work is just as heavy, the kids
are just as rambunctious, the bills are piled just as high…The sun still
shines, rain still falls, gravity still works, and none of the forces of nature
seem to care one bit that your personal universe has been altered
forever.”
She
goes on to observe, “Many cultures have gracious traditions of mourning built
into their social customs. But here in
our society there is no set of rituals that allows people to hang their head
after the funeral, no such thing as formal bereavement leave from our
responsibilities. Maybe there should
be.”
Well
Delle, thanks to you I took my leave. I used 2007 to transition to a greater,
personal accountability to live a life of legacy, and to touch others in-kind.
I am so grateful for the gift of that year, and the friends who stood by me,
calling and checking on me to make sure I was okay…giving me the space and privacy
to do what I had to do…allowing me to come to terms with my experience of loss.
I
came out of that year with a bright and glowing relationship with my self and
my spirit. I learned to pay attention to
the feelings that tell me when I need a moment of reflection to commune with my
intuitive voice for options and solutions that take me forward with a more
informed certainty and direction. We all owe ourselves and our future those
moments. And even if they stretch out from moments to an entire year, we
deserve the gift of that time for our healing and our blessing.
My
gift, my blessing, is a deeper awareness that loss, and in particular Death,
can inspire us toward a more intimate relationship with Life. For me, that’s
the greatest legacy of all.
Tracey Carruthers is an
author and Executive Coach. Her clients include CEOs and senior teams;
entrepreneurs; civic leaders, coaches and consultants. Her philosophy embraces
the wisdom and intelligence of the heart.
“Leading and coaching from the heart engages the intelligence of our
innate wisdom,” says Tracey. “Listening from the wisdom of the heart reconnects
us to the spirit within us, inspiring us to look at the possibilities of life
with a brand new perspective.”
