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stephanie is: thoughtful…

someone wrote me today about raising a child after loosing your wife to cancer… i sent it off to my dad since he is the expert, having raised my brother and i. in his reply he referenced a post he had made in 1994 when i graduated high school. i had forgotten about it. it is a really good post. you can read it here:

Date:         Sat, 4 Jun 1994 17:09:11 -0400
Reply-To: Bill Innanen <[email protected]>
Sender: Valentine Michael Smith's commentary
From: Bill Innanen <[email protected]>
Subject:      Ghost (a personal story)

Val and list members,

I tried to contact a ghost last night.  As I had expected, I was not
successful.  But in previous years I have conversed with this ghost to my
great benefit.  Sadly, I doubt that I will ever again be able to make
contact.

Now, before you conclude that I have flipped out and lost contact with
reality, let me explain the circumstances and what I mean by "ghost."  13
years ago this summer my wife died after a 4 year struggle with cancer.  I
was left to raise 2 children; a son 10, and a daughter almost 5.  Donna, my
wife, was the child rearing expert in the family.  She had been well raised
herself, and had a degree in early childhood education.  She had taught and
been around little kids all her life.  She knew what she was doing.  I
didn't so I followed her lead and let her call the shots.  As always, I
observed, learned, and questioned in order to make myself more useful,
especially after she was diagnosed with cancer and it became apparent that
I might be left with the task by myself.

We were married for almost 13 years.  During that time we came to know each
other very well.  You've all had the experience of "knowing" just what
another person would say or do in a given situation, even if they were not
there.  Indeed, that is how little kids learn some of their most important
lessons - listening to and obeying parents while present, and then
listening to and obeying parents when they are not present.  Donna and I
had this form of communication down pat.  Just a raised eyebrow in a
crowded room could speak volumes - there was little need to say the words.

Lest you think that we were into telepathy or something like that, let me
hasten to assure you of the contrary.  We just knew each other well.  So
well that... well, to use a computer analogy, we could run a simulation of
the other to see what they would say or do in a given situation.  It wasn't
always right, of course, because no knowledge of another is complete or
perfect.  But for us it was a useful tool.

After her death I came to appreciate just how useful a tool it was.  When
yet another childhood crisis would come up, and I was completely clueless
as to what to do next, I'd go somewhere quiet and explain the problem to
Donna's ghost/simulation.  From that "conference" I would usually get an
idea as to how to proceed.  In reality of course what I was doing was using
an odd paradigm to access my memories of Donna's actions over the years in
similar situations.  But nonetheless, it was comforting and supportive to
be able to talk over my problems with my late wife, and get useful answers.

As the years passed, the validity of my "simulation" lessened.  The family
circumstances changed gradually, to something that Donna had never
experienced, and my guess as to her reactions became more and more
uncertain.  Also my detailed memories began to fade, though the things that
I learned and acted upon from those memories became part of my own makeup.
I began to acquire child-rearing skills myself, learned from a teacher now
dead.

After several years (4 or 5) this conscious "consultation" with my late
wife gradually ceased.  It just didn't work anymore, and indeed, had little
relevance to the current situation.  I was finally on my own.

At the time of Donna's death, I took inventory of what I needed to do to
carry on as much of what we had planned as possible.  Specifically, I had
two children to raise.  At that point I was very much aware of my own
mortality, so I had to set things up so that I had some sort of backup,
should something happen to me as well.  A will took care of most of the
details, but I realized that as the children grew things would change.  So
I set for myself the "minimum goal" that I needed to accomplish.  That was
to raise both kids until they reached high school graduation.  The needed
to have by that point the intellectual, physical, moral, and financial
resources required to carry on by themselves if need be.  I chose that
point in their lives, because as you all know, college is generally where
the child makes the transition to an independent adult.

Last night was my daughter's high school graduation ceremony.  My 13 year
"minimum goal" has now been achieved.  I'm happy to say that both of them
are well equipped to handle the world on their own now.  Not that I'm going
anywhere.  I'll still be here for advice and backup when needed.  But the
task I set for myself 13 years ago is done.

Last night after the commencement ceremony I decided to take a walk around
the block in the dark and see if I couldn't tell Donna the good news.
Sadly, I couldn't.  I couldn't even bring the sound of her voice to my
mind.  It's been too long.  I could cheat and listen to a tape, but it
wouldn't help.

If you've stayed with me this far through this maudlin ramble, please
forgive me one last foible.  Since I couldn't "contact" her the old way,
I'd like to send her an open letter.

---------

Dearest Donna,

The first phase of the task we set ourselves when we had our children is
done.  Both kids are now high school graduates, and headed on to further
education.  Both have turned out to be fine, happy, and independent young
adults.  I think that you would be proud of them.

With the accomplishment of this goal, I'm now at a turning point in my
life, too.  Nothing will change suddenly, but they will change.  I wish you
were here to share this with me.  Over the years my grief over your death
has faded away, as you would have wanted.  But I still miss you terribly,
and always will.

Love,
Bill

--
Bill Innanen