A Runner's Hat

[image credit Gary]

I usually wear a baseball cap when I run to keep bugs away from my head and the sun away from my eyes.

Yesterday I ran for the first time in my newest old hat--the one pictured above--that belonged to my father-in-law, Charlie, who passed away a few weeks ago.  The bride and I got him this hat some years back to commemorate the ship he sailed on in WWII, the USS Turandot, AKA-47 (see here for a brief history of the ship).

When I ran through the village of Marion near my home, a car pulled up and the window came down.  I swear I almost jumped, because it was a black SUV with black windows that looked just like a Secret Service car...but turns out it was just a lost guy.  After I gave him directions (he wasn't far off track) and we were parting ways, he glanced at my hat and said, "Thank you for your service."

I explained that it was my FIL's hat for his ship in WWII, and that I was wearing it in memory of and to honor Charlie, but, well, the tears just began.  At length I managed to get out the brief story, but I was an emotional wreck the rest of the run.

That's how grief goes, I know, from having experienced it numerous times: you're OK, then there's a trigger, something that reminds you of the loved one you have lost, and then the waves of grief come washing over, sometimes even interspersed with laughter.

There's no right way to grieve, you just wing it.  And somehow I think your departed loved one understands.

Missing Charlie...and Ultrarunning

I posed last week how my father-in-law died suddenly about a week ago.

Each instance of grief and loss is unique, and may run the gamut from constant, distraught weepiness to acceptance and even happiness in celebrating the life of the departed.

At the age I am, I've seen my share of deaths of grandparents, parents, the near death of a child and grandchild, and friends, but I can't say yet whether I'll be motivated to remember Charlie frequently here at Mister Tristan (the blog, not the 6 year old human being) or whether this post might be the last.  Just don't know.

But I will tell a short tale that epitomized Charlie and how he always had a kind word or a funny story to put people at their ease. As they say in Pennsylvania Dutch country, "He liked to devil people."

Charlie was giving his grandson advice once, how since he (Charlie) was such a handsome man in his younger years, he had the problem of dealing with persistent, pesty females.

Charlie's solution: "I had to shit in my pants to keep the girls away."

Guess I'll go take a run.

Grief...a Perspective

From Brilliant at Breakfast, a thoughtful and sad perspective on grief from a woman who recently lost her husband.  This excerpt deals with options for bereavement leave, which are pretty bleak.

You should read it all, here:

I decided to look into a leave of absence, to rest up, get my head together, and breathe a bit. And the only options available to me are pretty distasteful. Under the Family Medical Leave Act, I could take an unpaid leave for up to twelve weeks (six weeks paid like unemployment because I am in New Jersey), with job protection, but I would have to have a physician certify that I have a "serious disability", in my case, depression. I am not depressed. I do not need medication, nor to be committed to a psych hospital. I have had four major losses in less than a year and I am grieving. And I will not pop pills just because I live in a society that insists you be smiling all the time. The other option is a "personal leave of absence", which must be approved by your manager, takes you off health insurance, and doesn't protect your job. In America, lose a spouse or a child -- the primary relationships of your life -- and the response is "Suck it up and deal."