Sigh… I just wrote a longish post, then lost it all when my browser failed. I’ll try to re-type it from memory. This is a pretty Zen exercise…

I Just got back from to the hotel from my all day meeting. On the bus back, I was telling my friend Wolfgang that I felt funny several times today because I found myself feeling ‘normal’. sometimes .  It wasn’t that Sam was not on my mind. I was thinking about him all day. It was just that I found myself getting really into some good technical discussions, and it felt pretty good to be enjoying my work again.
   On the people front, the day was amazing. I must have been hugged by about 50 friends. Our sadness of losing of Sam hits such a universal chord in people that it cuts right through the normal business protocol of quick handshakes. On top of that, I didn’t feel like running around trying to say ‘hi’ to everyone as I would normally do. The combination allowed me to have good, long conversations with several friends about Sam, their families, life priorities, etc. Even though I normally find these meetings exhausting,  I found today strangely relaxing…
   I had an interesting intersection between work and life this afternoon. There was a talk and panel this afternoon which touched on on-line collaborative communities such as MySpace and SecondLife. After the session., I talked to two of the panelists, my friends and mentors Katherine and Irving., about our experience with MySpace. I told them how Sam’s MySpace had turned out to be such a wonderful way for Sam’s friends to come together to mourn, and heal… I also told them about how much my MySpace blogging had meant to me during this hard time. I think it would be fun to help companies like mine create something like MySpace to use too help build their own internal communities.  I was just starting to play around with SecondLife just before Sam died. In Second life I look like this:

     Wow… I just spoke with Diane and she told me that our very close friend Mason was in a car accident today on the Richmond-Huntngton road. Thanks g-d Mason was not hurt, but his car was totatled when it slipped on a patch of ice, spun out and hit a tree. Mason told Diane that he had a vision of Sam as the car hit the tree and the airbags came out. I was so freaked out when I heard about  the  accident that I was shaking. Mason and his family are so close to us.. I am so glad that you’re OK Mason.. we love you !  Thanks for protecting him Sam !

-jc

ps. Diane also told me that while she was up at Jen’s painting SamStones today a part of my blog from yesterday came up. I had said: 

I’ve had several people ask my why we’re choosing to be so public about our grieving.. I really don’t have an answer.. we’re just doing what feels right to us. Our friend Jean suggested that people grieve the way they live.. .. and I guess we’re public people…

I guess the part about us being ‘public people’ didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean that the  outpouring of love from our community was because we were public people.. That was because Sam was who he was…   All the folks who are wearing  Sam’s picture or  helping us make SamStones.. or writing his name in the snow are publicly showing the world how much they care about Sam and miss him.. . And I’m missing him very much right now.. Here’s a picture of him as ‘Wonderboy’ at Camp Abnaki last Summer. I love you so much my son..

I’m really being bad here. I’m typing on my handheld while sitting in the back of a very big room at a meeting with about 500 other IBM folks. I need to write now because I may not have connectivity later. Sitting here really drives home what a big, big company IBM really is. It also reminds me how many smart (and nice) folks we have here. As I said last night this is the first really public thing I’ve tried to do on my own since Sam died. So far its goin ‘ok’. What rally strikes me is that everyone is shaking hands with each other… But everyone is hugging me. I am amazed at the number of folks who know about Sam and have made a point so far on this first morning to seek me out to tell me how sorry they are. This is corporate love.. I feel well cared for.
Last night was a little rough. It was the second time I’ve been alone in a hotel room since Sam’s death. The first time was when took max down to meet with his Profs at Pratt. I woke up every two hours with wild dreams. One of my dreams was about losing Sams data..like pictures and movies. I was frantic to get and back everything up while something was loosing the days. A predictable theme..but pretty upsetting. I talked with Diane this morning. She suggested I get a one of my IBM friends to camp out with me tonight. Any takers ? 🙂
Gotta run. Now. More later sam

This is pretty funny. I just started writing tonight’s posting on my Blackberry. Wouldn’t you know the server is down tonight due to a problem. I’m now at home retyping what I wrote verbatim by looking at the devices tiny screen,.. The irony is pretty good:

Written on my blackberry:

I’m at Gabe’s      
basketball practice,
so I’m going to try
to do this blog     
entry from the tiny
screen of my       
Blackberry.. or     
Crackberry as my 
friends sometimes
call it. This device 
is the symbol of   
the frenetic life I  
was living before  
Nov 21^st. When I 
think back I was  
such a slave to    
this tiny tyrant.  I
was reachable     
24/7 by phone,    
email or instant   
message. My      
calendar would    
beep me for       
meetings that     
could  start as    
early a 7AM or as
late as 10PM. I   
would even find   
myself on          
work calls on      
weekends.When I
wasn’t working, the
demon’s task list  
reminded me of all
the things hanging
over my head:”the
“should have’s”, the
“got to’s”and the “oh
s**t’s”.              
Staring at this      
thing now I can’t   
imagine how I let  
something this tiny
and fragile bully    
me into exhaustion
for so long. Even   
though I’m back at 
work full time, I’m 
finding that I can   
ignore the demon’s 
buzzes and beeps.  
My phone goes       
unanswered more   
often. My calendar  
isn’t overbooked.    
Most of the credit   
for that goes to      
my dear friend and  
protector Jleigh       
who is acting as     
gatekeeper and       
therapist … “         

At that point my battery failed

 I got to watch Gabe’s  basketball practice.. (He was pretty hot tonight.)  I then came home to find out that the server was down for the night, so the stuff I typed wouldn’t be getting to my computer..  In my past life, a Blackberry faiure like this would have me breaking out in  cold sweat of information withdrawal.. Tonight it was exactly what I needed… I think I’m getting the message from Sam to kick back and smell the roses.. or the gym socks as  was the case tonight.   Thanks Sam

-jc

ps. I just got pinged with a work question (from a good friend and blog reader J )  as I’m writing this at 10:30 and I asked if we could talk  about it tomorrow.. Aren’t I a slacker now ?  

 

 I realize now that I spent a good deal of today thinking about the afterlife…   It’s a strange thing to think about at work. But that’s where my head was. I find myself constantly talking to Sam… if I’m by myself, I’m usually doing it out loud .. if I’m with people I’m doing it in my head. I talk to him about food, about the weather.. about nature..  about the dirty dishes in the sink or mismatched socks.. or about problems with my JavaScript programming.  I feel like I’m on some strange ‘friends and family’ plan with the astral plane.. Am I just talking to myself..?  or is he out there in some form that can listen ?   I got home today to find two messages from the beyond. We received a really beautiful framed picture from my friend M at work.. On it was a quote that included the line: “Know that I am vibrating to a different measure, behind a thin veil that you cannot see through” We also heard for our good friend S, .that she’d been to see a spiritualist who’d told her that “Sam is everywhere and always around us in spirit. even though he didn’t have a chance to fulfill everything he was capable of, his spirit will create a legacy on its own.” I guess that’s some consolation but I want Sam with me here and now !  I just don’t know what to make of all this…   Before Sam died I don’t think I gave two minutes thought to eternity in any serious way. Now that he’s gone it seems to be all that I can think of. A few months ago I was a scientist who believed that everything we are… our consciousnesses .. our souls… were the ‘simple’ result  of chemistry  and physics..   That’s not a very satisfying answer to me now that I’m a grieving dad. Everything I’ve seen and felt since Sam died points to much more than that. It’s so tough to ponder this.       

    I’ve been reading a bunch to figure out what others think on the subject. I found that I can’t read fiction right now because my attention span is too short.. and all the non-fiction we have around the house now seems to be about grieving and loss… Reading about how to grieve  is a little like trying to learn how to ride a bike from reading a book….   sort of pointless.     With  all other options ruled out, I’ve found that I’ve been reading a lot of poetry..  I love poetry because the whole plot has to develop and resolve in a page or two.. I found the following by one of my favorite Poets, Billy Collins, the former poet laureate for the US. Here’s what Mr. Collins has to say about the afterlife:

 The Afterlife
 
They’re moving off in all imaginable directions,
each according to his own private belief,
and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal:
that everyone is right, as it turns out.
you go to the place you always thought you would go,
the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.

 Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors
into a zone of light, white as a January sun.
Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits
with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.

 Some have already joined the celestial choir
and are singing as if they have been doing this forever,
while the less inventive find themselves stuck
in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.

 Some are approaching the apartment of the female God,
a woman in her forties with short wiry hair
and glasses hanging from her neck by a string.
With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.

 There are those who are squeezing into the bodies
of animals–eagles and leopards–and one trying on
the skin of a monkey like a tight suit,
ready to begin another life in a more simple key,

 while others float off into some benign vagueness,
little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.

 There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld
by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves.
He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave
guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.

 The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins
wishing they could return so they could learn Italian
or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain.
They wish they could wake in the morning like you
and stand at a window examining the winter trees,
every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow.

~ Billy Collins ~  

 Ack ! What do I believe ?! What can I really believe ??  Oh Sam.. help me out here… send me the user’s manual from wherever you are so I can figure this out.  

 -jc