I’m about to head off for Indianapolis to join dad, Sonja and Nathan on the eve of my little brother’s brain surgery. I’m departing about an hour and a half later than I wanted, but had lots to do at the station before I could “depart in peace” as the Song of Simeon says. I was also finishing up reading essays for Carthage’s transfer scholarships, and couldn’t leave town until those were done. Now all I have to do is pack my suitcase, cage up Bobbi, and away I go . . .
As I was walking into the house just now, I saw sitting on a counter a very important piece of paper- the remarks which a dear friend has asked me to share when I offer the eulogy for his funeral. (I don’t know that I should say his name w/o permission.) It occurred to me that if something should happen to me on this trip – God forbid – it would be so tragic that these final wishes not be carried out. . . so I am putting this piece of paper right where my wife can see it, with a note explaining what it is . . . just in case.
Which got me thinking to my sophomore year at Luther- so this would be January of 1980 – when Nordic went on a tour to Mexico. . . my first time flying. I was just a bit jittery, and I decided right before I went to write notes to people close to me, in case something happened. I left them in the middle drawer of my dorm desk, where I figured they would be fairly easily found. And indeed they were- Marshall came across them while I was gone and very nearly freaked out, not expecting to find these farewell notes and probably wondering what in the world had prompted me to write them. Had I had some strange premonition of disaster? No, I just felt like I had to do that – and it made it easier to walk out the door with all of those things having been said. I only regret that I didn’t warn my best friend and roommate about it ahead of time; it was not my intention to scare him to death!
Well, I’ve walked out the door and into journeys much longer than that choir tour – and sometimes I’ve done the same thing . . . and at other times not. I’m not certain if the difference has had to do with how frantic the prep for departure was or maybe there have been times when I’ve felt like the most important things have already been conveyed just in the living of life. I mostly feel like the latter today; I feel like the people I love are well aware that I love them. . . and if there’s anything I’d want to leave behind me today in written form, frankly it would be notes to so-and-so saying “I never got around to telling you how mad I was when you. . . “ or “I bet you don’t even realize how thoughtless you were when you. . . “ It might feel good for a moment or two to do that, but I think I’ll pass.
If there’s anything I regret with the people I am close to, it is that I have allowed my life to be so incredibly rich – and so incredibly busy – that most of the people I love most and care about most have been shunted off to the side more often than I care to contemplate. If I could rewrite anything, it would be that neglect of friends and family – and especially of Kathy. So I guess I want to say that in the hopes that when you say goodbye to me- – – I hope MANY years from now – – – you’ll forgive me for this. It’s just that I’ve had such wonderful, stimulating work to do – coupled to an intense fear of saying No . . . and what a powerful combination that has been, for good and for ill. So that would be the Great Regret of my life.
A smaller regret – yet quite a sizable regret is the room pictured above- which already looked like a Category 5 storm had blown through it and which now looks even worse, thanks to the mountains of music and books from Dr. Sjoerdsma which are dumped there. I will drive very very carefully on this trip and do all I can to return safely because surely the sentence for leaving that kind of mess behind for others to clean up would be a one-way ticket to you-know-where.
I think I’m being a mix of serious and flippant here because it’s a little bit hard to process that my youngest brother will soon have brain surgery. Amazing. Terrifying. I’m glad I can be there for at least some of it- to keep Nathan company along with dad and Sonja- – – and I’m hoping it works out for me to see Cousin Linda Marler on the way out . . . and a friend from Luther, Eric Isaacson, for the first time in I don’t know how many years while I’m there. Isn’t it funny what blessings end up being bundled in life’s misfortunes? Something else for which to be thankful.
Anyway, this is Greg Berg signing off – temporarily, I trust. 🙂