I traveled to India in January of 2008. That trip changed my life. It not only gave me a broader worldview, it made me face truths and fears and it forced me to forge new relationships. It helped shape me into the person I am today. Compassionate. Empathetic. Judgement free. While many, many people contributed to making that trip spectacular for me, one man in particular deserves my thanks.
This man is Frank Stalfa. He was laid to rest yesterday in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and my heart is still breaking that I was unable to attend. This wise, gentle man that we referred to as our "fearless leader" showed me how to live. He taught me many things, but I think the most important and the one foremost in my heart today, is to find the moments of quiet joy in each day. His wife taught me to celebrate the simple act of living, one that Frank's teachings reinforced. The two of them are a model for living a grateful, joyous life.
Frank passed after a short, but brave battle against cancer. I've been largely avoiding social media as Jeff battles his cancer for a myriad of reasons. One, I am exhausted much of the time and just don't feel the energy at the end of the day for Facebook. Two, I am a chronic comparer. I think I made that word up. Here's what it means. I see the posts, the pictures, the food, the travels, the whatever my friends post and I compare where I am at and wallow in pity or self-loathing. As friends of mine work in professional sports, in important media positions, overseas, or even as high school teachers I think of how I am freelance writing and have no steady paycheck. As friends of mine post their beautiful babies I see the empty space in my arms where I can not put a child, because my body is not able to carry one. As friends post their homes....you get the idea.
So. I've been away long enough that I didn't even know Frank was ill. When he passed I sent an e-mail to my mother. When her reply came a few minutes later, I wept. I wept because I didn't get a chance to share with him what he taught me. I wept because I did not have the chance to offer words of encouragement to friends who were suffering in light of Frank's illness. And lastly, I wept because he touched my life and a beautiful soul left this earth.
Yesterday his funeral was on my mind. I ached to be in Pennsylvania, crying in my mother's arms at the loss of Frank. But with Jeff fighting an infection and cancer, it was not to be. As Jeff was sick I was responsible for taking Malcolm trick-or-treating. And I didn't want to. Because as I compare myself to others on Facebook, so do I do it in real life. And I felt vulnerable and weak, not able to handle public scrutiny or mingling with strangers. But Malcolm is 4 and he deserved to go, so I headed out into the night as Princess Mom with Malcolm as Black Spiderman. And somewhere between the fifth and tenth house, I felt light as air. I was smiling. I was interacting with people. I was happy. I was not comparing my size to other mothers. I was not comparing my living space to other's homes. I simply was. I was in the moment. With Malcolm and a gentle breeze ushering in the smell of fall and rain and leaves.
Frank's death has forced me to be grateful that Jeff has the chance to fight his cancer. That Jeff has a future to face. And that I get to be by his side through it. There are so many ugly moments during a cancer fight. So many heinous thoughts and emotions that remain hidden and eat away at you. Sometimes it is hard to be fully in the present as Jeff and I worry so much about the future. When he comes out of this our medical bills will set us back for years. When he comes out of this, we will worry that it still isn't over.
But last night, as I walked with Malcolm, Frank's message of joy and thanks filled me and I came home with a renewed sense of gratitude for the life I live.
I will miss Frank, but his teachings will never leave me. His teachings will live in the hearts and minds of those he touched near and far. Today, I will remember him. And the simple pleasure of finding a little bar in India to grab a cocktail and share conversation. And I will give thanks for all that I do have, rather than focusing on what I don't.
Ashley, thank you for sharing this powerful and inspiring message. Your willingness to share all of your raw feelings and emotions allows us, your readers, to bring to light and to expose our own feelings of insignificance. I, too, am a chronic comparer. It is something I have been working to release for many years. Some days I'm better than others. Some days I'm able to accept me for who I am.
ReplyDeleteWrapping you with lots of love, hugs, and prayers as you continue to fight the cancer beast with your husband. May you always feel God's love surrounding you.
And, yes, life is good, life is a gift. And Frank was a gift in our lives.
Peace, love, and blessings,
Linda Kozlowski
Ashley, As you mother may have told you, Frank planned his own memorial service. The postlude, which we all sat and listened to was this by The Kinks:
ReplyDeleteYou look out of your window,
Into the night.
Could be rain, could be snow,
But it can't feel as cold as you're feeling inside.
And all of you friends are either married, vanished,
Or just left alone.
But that's no reason to just stop living.
That's no excuse to just give in to a sad and lonely heart.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.
Cause darling, darling,
I bet you danced a good one in your time.
And if this were a party
Id really make sure the next one would be mine.
Yes, you with the broken heart.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.
You walk down the street
And all the young punks whistle at you.
A nice bit of old,
Just goes to show what you can achieve
With the right attitude.
As you pass them by
They whisper their remarks one to another,
And you give them the eye
Even that you know that you could be their mother.
You do the thing you love the most.
What separates you from the rest,
And what you love to do the most?
And when they ask me how you dance,
I say that you dance real close.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to dance.
Ashley,
ReplyDeleteOnce again I read your words through a veil of tears. Your honesty and courage is an inspiration! Thank you for your bravery.
Love you so very much!
Omg, Ashley, I too did not know Frank was ill until I found Susan's post w a link to your blog entry. This hasn't really hit me yet. I identify w a lot of what you said, as I missed the news about Freank bc I've been wallowing in my physical pain, nursing myself emotionally, & remaining preoccupied w some big challenges coming my way starting tomorrow. I've always felt like I was one of Frank's students who failed him in many ways, as well as, failed to demonstrate to him how much I did heed his words & flourished under his support, grew under his discipline, and just enjoyed LTS more bc of his & Susan's presence there throught the years I spent there going through "it" and eventually graduating, but not w the degree I went there for. Thank you Ashley. Thank you Frank. Thank you Susan.
ReplyDeleteMoonsent is Malika, Ashley.
ReplyDeleteHi...if you send me your email contact I could send you a picture I took Wednesday at Franks Service...church of the apostles was standing room only...I think the best line the whole time was when someone shared...I know Frank made mistakes, but I forget what they were now...he was a swell guy, one who I was hoping to know better ;-)
ReplyDelete