Author: Onedayonward

Valentine’s Day: Love After Loss

For most of my life, I never gave much value or importance to Valentine’s Day, despite being a big ole softy for love. It certainly provided some beautiful feelings and memories along the way, found in special kept cards, but there was always apart of me that felt the commercialism of it all. And then came the first Valentine’s Day after my partner’s death. Arriving almost six months since he had vanished from my life. Winter taking an unprecedented toll that year. Days tied together by aching, inescapable loneliness – often only interrupted by the welcomed distractions of social media. I honestly don’t think I ever anticipated how challenging that first Valentine’s Day would be.

Love love love all around. In the aisles of Walgreens. In the crafted windows of neighborhood homes. In the seemingly endless Facebook posts. I’m so keenly aware of it all and it’s completely overwhelming – shining a light on everything I don’t have. And it SUCKS.

I avoid. I try to escape. If you’ve ever quit smoking – take the first 12 hours of day one – and then imagine that each hour feels like 24 hours. With no sleep to break them up. Towards the end of that day, I was almost literally crawling out of my skin.

Who am I? Whose life I am leading? How did I get here? How do I get OUT of here?

And I open my computer and google ‘free gay dating sites’. Yup. It’s 2015, I’m 41 years old and I’ve never even seen a dating site, except in commercials. But what the hell. I come across a site called ‘OK Cupid’. Haha oh irony. Ok great – it’s free and appears to be relatively innocent compared to some others that show up at the top of the search. It’s 10pm on Valentine’s Day, my first alone in 20 years and I’m filling out my first online dating profile. I’m terrified – is it too soon? What will people think? But also – if I don’t do something different, change things up – I’ll drown.

Long story, short – it wasn’t the last dating site I got on – and I never found ‘the one’ through those ventures. It was often messy. I was naive. Again. I did meet a number of really nice, genuine guys though. And one of those guys just happened to introduce me to the guy with whom I’m celebrating my first Valentine’s Day as an officially married man, four years later.

So this Valentine’s Day…

Whether you’re alone, in love or somewhere in between…

Shake things up. Do something different. Surprise someone. Surprise yourself. Take a chance. Doesn’t have to be romantic. But try to open your heart. Share it. Step out of your comfort zone. No new adventures ever start there. It’s your love story. Go write it.

Finding Passion for Giving Back

This time of year has most of us thinking about how to give back. We become more aware of just how many people are in need – from our own communities – to those around the world. When you really try to take it all in – it can become overwhelming – almost paralyzing. So many choices – so much need. But we do our best – give what we can. We give our money. We give our time. And all of it matters, no matter how much or how little. But the desire to give more – to make a bigger difference – finds its’ voice in the that semi-conscious state as we finally crush into our familiar pillow – whispering gratitude for the life that’s only a heartbreak away from ‘them’.

I’m incredibly grateful to have been brought up with mindfulness for those less fortunate – putting pennies in the paper fold-up box that sat on our dining room table during lent – choosing an ornament from the advent tree with an age and desired gift to be brought back by the end of the season – our family gifting Christmas every year to another family less fortunate that was in or near our community. All extremely impactful. Especially when considering that we were probably one month’s salary from the flip-side of that giving and receiving equation. I imagine that’s probably the case for most of us.

And as the years flow by, our lives are touched by more and more causes and charities and areas of the populace that need our love and time and financial support. And if you’re anything like me – I try to give to as many as I can – spreading my dime with hopes of responding to as many needs as possible. And along the way, even upping my game with focused spurts of increased fundraising for Autism, Down’s Syndrome, Pediatric Cancer, so many cancers, AIDS – causes that have hit closest to home.

But I’ve continued to search for the thing, the cause, the charity that will propel me to go bigger – to make more money – not because I need it personally – but because it is affords the time and the energy to raise money for those who do. The kind of thing that makes you want to get up and get to work when you’re exhausted. A passion to help others for sure – but also – a passion to help others whose experience is one that resonates down to your depths – because that’s the stuff, the personal stake, that creates movement, awareness, momentum. Many of you – my family, my friends – you have already found that – or perhaps it’s better stated that it has found you – and your determination to make a difference with those unique challenges is of huge inspiration to me. I crusade alongside you. I shout and cheer and try to help as best I can. But something inside me continues to search out the ‘thing’ that is mine. That I feel resolute ownership of. And it turns out that grief – loss – even being a widower at a relatively young age – does not hold within it, the fire to proactively fight for others.

Very early on in our relationship, a common desire to give back was one of the things that assured me I was with the right guy in Dennis. But it’s the ongoing conversation of finding something for which we are both fiercely passionate that breathes new, much-awaited inspiration into our present and future. I’m also incredibly grateful to be aligned with a company that prides itself in giving back, defining success by how many lives can be positively affected – inspiration that links me to the same awareness that was cultivated throughout my childhood.

Today felt like a big step in the right direction. With the help of many clients and friends, for which I am insanely grateful, I delivered over $1000 in personal care products, as well as a sizeable cash donation from Dennis’s salon, to Youth Empowerment Performance Project (YEPP), whose mission is “to create a safe environment for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer youth experiencing homelessness to explore their history, investigate new ways to address their struggles and to celebrate their strengths through the process of developing a theatrical performance piece.” Only time will tell where this will lead, but it deeply resonates on many levels. I was given a tour by the founder with warmth and humor and kindness, explaining how they function on a day to day basis – how far they’ve come as a grassroots organization – and where there are still many needs to be met – I saw the common areas, kitchen, bathrooms, space used for rehearsal by day, where mattresses are laid by night.

I won’t go into the statistics of these youth experiencing homelessness (another lesson in the personage coming before the defining characteristic), but it has most definitely roused the advocate in me – one that has always been there, but truthfully has been too silent for too many years. To witness the growing acceptance of the gay and lesbian populace (despite our current political leadership) is something beautiful and long overdue – and I’m incredibly grateful to live in a city where I feel free to be who I am and not worry about violent attack. But let us not be pacified by that progress when there are others in our community that desperately need us to open our arms wider. I continue to stand proudly as a member of the LGBTQIA community – and will do my best to ensure that each and every one of us has the opportunity to work and live and love in a safe and nurturing environment, free from judgement, ridicule and violence.

So many needs. So much to think about. And we each only have only so much to give. But all of us are needed – the crusaders – the givers – whether it’s our time or our money or both. All we can do is our individual best. And I share this particular journey with you, in part because I’d love to shine a light on this organization, but mostly for the accountability it provides me to stay focused and not lose sight of what is most important. Advocating with full heart! I encourage the same full-hearted advocacy for each of you with whatever or whomever resonates most. But even if you feel as I felt for so long – still searching – please know how much your journey is needed and valued and admired. Continue to give voice to wherever you are on your path. Your passion to give back will never be lost.

Comparison: Don’t Lose Your Pants

My first memory of comparison came when I was in the 5th grade. It was the first day back after Christmas break, and I was standing in line outside waiting for the school doors to open. There was only one classroom of each grade at “Hickory Hills Elementary”, five houses and a small field down from mine; and at 10 years old, my class of 18 students and I were finally king of the school. Until that day. For me anyway.

It was on that day that one of my best friends – a pretty good and kind kid, if memory serves – decided to not say a word as he got into line behind me – barely made eye contact as I recall – certainly made no mention of the silvery, almost reflective, superhero-like pants he was wearing. Perhaps it was the look of horror on my face, perhaps unadulterated envy – what are these magical pants and where in the holy hell did they come from?? “They’re parachute pants,” my friend told me nonchalantly – breaking my uncomfortable stare. “Didn’t you get any for Christmas? Everyone I know got some.”

And like was often the case for me, my 10 year old brain immediately went into hyper drive. Matt the alter boy has left the building, folks. Please welcome MR TYPE A – GOTTA BE THE BEST – MATTHEW MICHAEL IF YOU MISPRONOUNCE MY LAST NAME ONE MORE TIME RAFTERY!

OMG. No. What?? EVERYONE got them? Who? Who is everyone? Did Tony get them? Did Jason? Are these just for boys? Did all the girls get them too? Why didn’t I get them? What’s wrong with my parents? Why do they make my life sooooo haaaard? Why can’t I just be like everyone else??? I swear to f***ing hell if they tell me to be grateful for what I have ONE MORE TIME UUUGGGGHHHHH!!

Oh – to be ten years old again lol. 

Needless to say, I never – NEVER – owned a pair of parachute pants. Not even freakin hand-me-downs. It was rough – not gonna lie. And though life did seem to go on (SOMEHOW) – I spent wayyyy too much time comparing my life and what I “GOT” with that particular friend’s life, who seemed to always ‘GET’ everything. I wonder what the hell he’s up to now. I’ve heard rumor that he hasn’t had the easiest path. But then – I guess neither have I. 35 years later – and what is there really to compare? So many influences, circumstances – so many things neither of us could ever even HOPE to control.

But I’ll never forget those pants. And how badly I wanted them. How badly I wanted to BE HIM. Measuring myself against something that had no relevance to the life I’d been gifted. So wrapped up in what was ‘cool’ and never being accepted as such. He was Michael Jackson and I was an extra in ‘Revenge of the Nerds’. Get used to it, kid. 🙂

About a week or so ago, a conversation about comparison was resurrected between me and my dear friend and business partner, Natalie. How comparison can rear its ugly head when you least need it – like some sort of awful 5th grade test you never passed so you have to take it again. And again. And every time you think you’ve graduated past it – having done countless hours of home work on your own mindset – armoring yourself with ‘rising above’ and ‘there’s enough for everyone’ – just stay the course – it’s yours and yours alone. Well – all I can say – is that there’s a reason why that journey of self discovery and true gratitude is one that needs ongoing investment. It’s no easy task. Every day we ride the roller coaster of life and none of us are immune to the emotions that spring forth from those highs and lows. And if you dare to dream and venture into new territory, your desire will most definitely be challenged. It’s like the universe hears your dream, responds with a resounding ‘YES – GO GET IT!” – so you tear off down this new path, filled with hope and sheer excitement, only to be faced with hurdle after hurdle – bigger and bigger. I mean, seriously? Forget it – it’s not worth it. What a cruel cosmic joke.

But – it’s not. Not a joke at all. It’s that same test. The same one you’ve been trying to pass since the 5th grade. And no one else can take it for you. And now you’re old enough to realize that even when you DO get a passing grade – the grade has an expiration date. But no one tells you when that date is. So all you can do – is continuously prepare.

I’m lucky to do life and business with someone as open and vulnerable as my friend, Nat. And somehow – with years of work – we have a pretty amazing thing growing. Actually it’s better than amazing – it’s some of the most life-affirming work I’ve ever been apart of. I need to be better at voicing that, because it’s true. I often worry that it makes some uncomfortable, so I keep it all too secret. Sometimes I regret the uncontrollable circumstances of my life that threw a major hurdle in our path. On the other hand, I guess it’s taught us to become pretty good jumpers along the way. And we’re insanely lucky to have so many people jumping alongside us again. Truly some of the most incredible humans you could ever hope to work and dream with.

Nat is also an incredible singer/songwriter. She has an album. The first of many, to be sure. There’s a song on her album called “Stay In Your Lane” – you should find it on Itunes and buy it. Album title, “Breaking Forward” by Natalie Myre. A great reminder that comparison is a trap. It lures you with the outward beauty of someone else’s path. But then tortures you with dead end after dead end. And you’re left exposed and embarrassed, just a shell of who actually are, hoping no one noticed that you were trying to be someone else. It’s a song of empowerment, like much of her work is, and it encourages us to keep our focus on the path ahead – the one that’s uniquely ours. The only one that holds our personal truth.

How many of us never rise to our full potential because we’re too worried what others are doing? How fast they’re going? Too worried about what they’re thinking of us? Are they judging the path we’ve chosen? I have spent WAY too much time concerned about this. I think many of us have. I wish I didn’t have that voice inside my head sometimes. And yet – it is part of who I am. Often times, it’s exactly THAT voice that challenges me to do better, go further – so I actually need that voice. I just don’t need it to judge me based on what others are doing. And I don’t need it to listen to those who doubtfully question where I’m going. They’re not running my race anyway.

Perhaps I should keep the race to me and the 5th grader inside. He’s actually taught me an awful lot along the way. I mean – he did make it through 5th grade in his Toughskins from Sears. The least I can do is make him feel like the smart, kind and fun-loving survivor he is.

“Hey kid.” — “Yeah mister?” — “Race ya home?”

“What’ll you give me if I win?”

“Whatever you want kid – If you can dream it, I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

Those young eyes widen with a mischievous glint. “1,2,3, GOO!”

And we’re off!

Laughter – Ever After

Once upon a time, long before nieces and nephews, before big love – then loss – then big love again, before Facebook, a 20-something song and dance guy made his way from New York to LA. And as it goes, almost immediately landed himself a leading role in a film! Due to shoot on location in Bucharest, Romania for 4 weeks! I mean – duh – Broadway straight to super stardom. Happens ALL. THE. TIME. I probably don’t even need to TELL you. I mean – most people know. Well. Most people that knew Bernie anyway. 🙂

If you knew Bern, then I’m guessing there is at LEAST ONE embarrassing thing about your life that he ceremoniously put on a giant altar, under the brightest spot light, making sure that the rest of the people in your life, old or new, NEVER – EVER – forgot. He could almost, quite literally, make you want to pull your hair out (or his) with his persistence in reminding you of said experience. But from time to time – almost graciously – enough time would pass (months, YEARS), and you’d think – omg I think he finally forgot. Praise jesus. Close that safe, lock it up and destroy the key. I’m finally…

NOPE! Nope nope nope!

Here the two of us were, hosting a cast party – like maybe 30-40 people in the house (his house, our house, my house, our house), and he’s noooooowhere to be found. I actually start asking guests if they know where he is. Finally, someone says they think he went down into the basement awhile ago. Huh. Ok. Our unheated, unfinished dump zone lol. So I open the door, wind down the steps and rising into my line of sight is an ever growing sea of VHS tapes. Like – they’re EVERYWHERE. Hundreds of them scattered all over the floor. And then, there with his back to me, is Bern – rifling through yet another box of tapes.

“Bern! What the hell?! Haha! What the – hahaha – what the hell are you doing drunkey!?” And he turns and looks at me – and starts laughing – hard – and then I’m laughing – now even harder cause – well – such an infectious laugh – always was – I swear it was one of his superpowers – but anyway – I still have no idea what the hell is happening – and he has this look like his dastardly mission has now been compromised – and through his laughter, says “Damnit! I was looking for ‘Witchouse’!”

(wha?! oh please god no holy lord on a stick)

“Well, hon. It’s actually on DVD.”

And it erupts again. Oh the laughter. I think we owned all of a dozen DVDs at the time (maybe 10 years ago or so?). And this particular gem – my one and only STARRING ROLE – a stunningly beautiful art film – of the B-Horror type – was in the cabinet under the TV up in the room with all of our party guests.

The poor 25 year old movie star had no idea what he would be in for 10 years later lol. Witchouse. Let it be repeatedly noted by Bern that it was “NOT – Witch – House. Wait – is it Wherehouse? Whosehouse is it?? THEIR HOUSE??? NOPE!!! One ‘H’ People!!! WITCHOUSE! And it’s rumored that it was once seen in a Blockbuster!!!”

And that was the beginning of the rest of my tortured life lol. If he had anything to do with it – every person within reach was going to know I did this horror of of horror movie. He played it as often as he could. And he thought it was HI-LARIOUS. And you know – if it was like the 216th time and I wasn’t really in the mood – DIDN’T MATTER!! And he’d LAAAAUGH – and it was the kind of laugh few people were impervious to – certainly not me – and if I’ve gotten any better at laughing at myself over the years – well, I definitely have Bern to thank for that. And it’s no small gift. I think a lot of people could say the same thing. Like I said earlier – this was not unique to our relationship. He lead with humor and laughter naturally. It was a far reaching gift.  It lifted so many – at the most obvious times – but also, at the most sensitive times.  He could handle humor so deftly.  Be it torturing me, charades with friends, playing a comic lead, clowning with the countless children whose lives he touched, marrying someone as the officiant of a wedding (which he did twice) – or telling the most appropriately subtle joke in someones time of need. Lifting someone up. Making them smile, when smiles were hard to come by.

And then the laughter ended.

I remember sitting out at our table on the back deck during the days after – almost constantly surrounded by family and friends, for which I am ever grateful. Story after story. And every one about the joy and laughter and friendship that he CREATED. And there was laughter in just the remembering. I may have even laughed along in moments – I honestly don’t recall. It was like I was there, but I wasn’t there. Wherever I was, laughter was suddenly like a foreign language I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Like it had been erased from my emotional consciousness. Labotomy-style.

I realize that there are many life experiences that can leave any of us in that same, lonely and sorrowful place. This was mine. And we’ve all heard that laughter is the best medicine. So what do you do when you’ve been restricted access to this healing gift?

Well – I think there’s probably at least a dozen topics to write about there – all of which deserve digging into. Being able to share yourself, your journey, your grief. Letting yourself cry, sob. Counseling. Connecting with nature. Connecting with animals. With children. Taking steps towards better health. Trying to live in the moment. Trying to embrace that the only thing we can control is how we respond to things. Learning to live with the you that has survived – even when you don’t see yourself as a survivor – and eventually, learning to love that person. Learning to love the loss itself. For it is apart of who you are now.

About six weeks before Bern died, he turned 50 years old. I threw him a big ass party at an Irish Chicago bar – old school beautiful – about 100 friends/family were there to celebrate. You honestly could not hear your own thoughts over the laughter and joy-filled conversation – let alone whatever was playing on the TV screens that filled the perimeter. SO. MUCH. LOVE. in that room. For him. For all the joy his life had provided in his 50 years. And though very hard to fully embrace for him – he was more comfortable giving than receiving – it moved him profoundly. Couldn’t stop thanking for days. Anyway – at the big bash – it was finally time to toast the BD boy – so I jumped up on a bench along one of the walls and had to scream at the top of my lungs to quiet the love fest. I thanked everyone profusely for coming and then said, but I know Bernie has something he’d like to say to you all, jumped down and gestured for him to get up there. And OH did he give me THE LOOK! Well, well, well – I think I actually caught HIM off guard! I just grinned back. So he begrudgingly gets up on the bench, tears welling in his eyes from the all the love that was rushing at him from every direction – then raises his hand like he’s holding an imaginary remote control and shouts – “CUE WITCHOUSE!!!”

The room EXPLODES with laughter.

(oh my christ for all that is are you freaking kidding me)

Just remembering it makes me smile. Truly. Makes me feel special and remember just how much he loved me. Terrorizing my life with that movie was one of the ways he showed it lol. It brought laughter to a lot of people – and I knew that was part of the unspoken commitment that lived in our relationship. I was swept up into it. I became his best audience. And I cherished being that to him. But laughter in someone’s memory just isn’t the same as present laughter. It’s wrought with texture and complexity of emotion – not representative of the purity of laughter – at least the way I think of it – crave it. I’m not sure if I’ll ever laugh exactly the way I did with him. (Certainly, puns will never be as freaking hilarious for seemingly no reason whatsover lol.) But I’m not sure that I’m even ABLE to laugh the same way anymore. And I’m not sure that I want to. Anymore. That laugh lives with him forever. And I’m starting to see the precious beauty in that.

It takes time – like everything – but it also takes effort – to find laughter again. To allow joy into your life. I salute all of you who are currently on that quest. I’m there with you. For there is no finish line. But I’m here to affirm that it’s possible, attainable. It won’t be the same. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be just as beautiful – as infectious – as satiating.

Once upon a time, a 40-something year old man, after years of exhausting ‘new, new, new’, found himself embracing someone so fully and completely. Loving him. Holding his face. Eyes locked with tears falling. Unable to hold back that little gasp of air rushing out. And then another. And another. Faster and faster. The laughter flowing freely between them now – almost unstoppable. Not side-splitting, buckle over laughter. But the laughter that comes from the undeniable feeling that they might just be the luckiest people in the world. That they survived to find it again. To find each other. And it rushes over, around and through them like no laughter has ever done before.

And so continues the story of laughter – ever after.

The Human Spectrum

I guess my first memory or introduction of the word, spectrum, was by my mom – encouraging me to embrace color. Any color. ALL colors. A lesson that went well beyond her passion for visual art. My dad very much in alignment – both in the context of humanity, as well as through two of his own passions – literature and culture. Cut to years of science class, where the word spectrum was used to define the infinite amount of light waves and/or sound waves that could be quantified in some way – which, in and of itself, was conflicting to my brain. Definitely resonated more with colors on a canvas. 😉 And then, at around 35 years old, it became clear that my nephew was on the Autism Spectrum. Fortunately for him, my sister was unwavering in her pursuit of finding out why certain ‘normal’ indicators of child development were not presenting – even at the age of 1 1/2. And so began the quest to understand what spectrum meant in that regard. How do you identify it? Quantify it? If he’s on ‘the spectrum’, then who else is? Am I? Are you? I mean – if ANY human is considered to be on ANY spectrum – then – as a race – wouldn’t we ALL be on it?

Perhaps it’s far more comfortable to think that only certain types of people are on certain spectrums. Perhaps it’s easier to self-identify by what spectrums we’re NOT on. It’s almost as if the word has come to mean something that indicates ‘other’. ‘Not me.’ ‘That’s someone else’s journey, not mine.’ And yet – by definition – it is inclusive of ALL.

My nephew’s spectrum diagnosis has played a very eye-opening role in my overall perspective on the subject. It has made me question where I fall on that spectrum. On any spectrum, for that matter. My brain isn’t perfect. I excel at certain things, am more challenged by others. Add to that I’m gay. I also happen to identify as male. Amazingly, this is becoming more accepted in general – at least in my world – and as it should be – but that was not the norm for most of my 45 years. Regardless – what if I was gay, a male, but identified as female? What if I was a male who identified as female and was straight? For that matter – what if I was straight and also identified as male? For that I spent too long wishing. And only because of the culture I grew up in – of which I had no choice. We’ve done better as a race in the past – I try to be hopeful that we can do so again in the future.

But while I’m on the subject – why not talk about the ‘spectrum’ of sexuality and sexual identity? I mean, c’mon – we all know what we like and who we are. We don’t choose it. It’s innate. It’s hard wired. There’s a fluidity to it. Our truest nature. Our innermost self. It’s completely unique to each of us – whether we feel free enough to outwardly admit it or not. And I’d venture that there isn’t one other person on earth – maybe ever in its’ history – who identifies and is attracted to others EXACTLY as you identify and are attracted to others.

Sounds like a spectrum to me.

Diseases, cancers, addictions – all have a spectrum of both diagnosable marks, as well as the humans who endure them. We’re all on a spectrum of wealth – or poverty – depending on our viewpoint. Is the glass ever EXACTLY half full or half empty for any one of us at the exact same moment? Spectrums of race, culture, class, sexuality – ability or disablity in any given sector – athleticism, intellect, compassion, humor, talent, LOVE.

Grief is a spectrum. 

For those of us who have experienced profound grief, I think it goes without saying that on any given day, at any given moment – no matter the distance time has allowed – nor the possible presence of current love or fulfillment – we will always be on the grief spectrum. It starts by completely consuming you – even consuming the very air you fight to breathe. And from that moment on, you are forever changed – the grief spectrum doesn’t invite you. It doesn’t care who you are or what you look like. And though you’ve always know it exists, felt compassion for those who were on it – you never thought it would play such an enormous role in how you self identify – forever now – because the grief spectrum never lets you go. There can be great value to being apart of the grief spectrum though. For where there is profound grief, there was – is – profound love. And if profound love is the common denominator for everyone on the grief spectrum – well then – we’re in pretty incredible company there, aren’t we?

I guess if there is anything to be cautious of – I would think it’s grieving that a loved one finds themselves on any certain spectrum that we don’t understand. Perhaps that is the very reason we are introduced to them through those we love the most. It gives us the opportunity to engage, listen and try to comprehend – or the opportunity to shut down – to stubbornly refuse our own evolution.

I had no idea how the Autism Spectrum would end up gifting my life, my perspective – and I think using the word spectrum to classify this beautifully unique sect of the human race, might be the best, most loving way to do so. There is no ‘disability’. And – from my viewpoint – no ‘disorder’ either. I’m very grateful to my nephew, Faustin, for teaching me that. And for making me reflect on where I fall on HIS spectrum. Cause I am on it. And so are you.

And you’re on my spectrum. And I’m on yours. It doesn’t matter who we are, where we’re from, how we identify or what we’ve accomplished.  We’re one race. We all face challenges. Some more challenging than others. Or are they? With each passing day, passing experience – any value in comparison continues to diminish. Either way – I believe there’s only one human spectrum.

And we’re all on it.

Love has no stigma

Six years ago, this past June 28th, a love-teacher was born to my sister, brother-in-law and their 3 year old daughter, who is an absolute beauty of a sister. And I get to be one of her lucky uncles – to the 8th of my 8 nieces and nephews! Actually, that doesn’t include my niece and 3 nephews from Bernie’s family. Or now – similarly – though I hadn’t thought of this til now – my niece and 3 nephews from Dennis’s family. So 16 in all! Wow. And man am I in love with all of them. Each and every one. Such unique beauty they each possess. So basically, I have material to write at LEAST 16 stories! But today – it’s Emma. And her story is no more special than any other. But it’s certainly special in its own right. She’s got an insanely bright soul. And she happens to have been born with Down Syndrome.

There are so many things I could relay about the beauty and stressful uncertainty that I witnessed her parents go through, (having chosen not to ‘find out’ when that ultrasound came back with markers), when their beautiful girl took her first breath – and they immediately KNEW. And it was only a fleeting, peaceful moment with their precious newborn before…

Tests, tubes, needles, surgeries, ICU – turning into endless therapies of all kinds, unexpected medical emergencies, days and nights in the hospital almost monthly – then tenuous, brief stretches of normalcy – but with that –  real life – back to work – for them, for her sister, for HER – work the body, work the mind, listen, repeat, learn to understand both instruction and intonation. Glimmers of light doused by more health issues, hospital stays, biting. Still, hope sneaks in! Progress is evident. This little angel of a human is not just speaking and processing – she’s listening and laughing and learning how to trick and manipulate, the way only kids that age can get away with lol. She’s reading now – and writing. I can’t give enough credit to  her parents for the countless hours spent giving her opportunity at every turn, but it’s also evident that she brings her own tenacious, fiercely loving spirit to the table – not taught – hers and hers alone. Love flows free – it’s magical – and on occasion – demanded lol. And if you’re the lucky one in demand at any given family gathering – well then – you just surrender to it! Cause it’s AMAZING. 100% a completely selfish venture on all our parts. Joyful, joyful we adore thee. She DANCES!

And miracle of miracles, mainstream 1st grade! WOW. I mean – holy dreamtastic almost unbelievable WOW! Awestruck. Keep believing! Anything is possible! Super hero. Family of super heroes!

But then…oh no….no, no, no. Not that. Worst nightmare that’s lived inside from day one coming true. The one that unifies parents across all differences of child. MY child – my HEART –

Ridiculed. Made fun of. Bullied.

For something that they have absolutely zero control over.

As it is in probably 100% of the situations where bullying is involved.

Ok sure – she’s 6 and kids will be kids. But for god’s sake, we need to do better. We need to BE better. Wherever we can address bullying. Be it from a president who freely mocks those with special needs and uses the “R” word. UGH. Or just the kid next door who unintentionally learns that behavior, living in a society that has seriously lost its way. It’s THAT kid that we need to get to know. Love. Foster. As a family, a community, a country.

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month. So…maybe we could all try to be more aware. Of our actions. Our words. Words are so important. We are teaching our children with our words every minute, and the words we let them hear from others. Unique. Beautiful. Strong. Loved. Important. We need to make better choices – and a better effort to embrace and celebrate our differences – cause don’t ya know? They’re our super powers y’all! HUMANITY. If we could just figure this out – seriously, nothing could stop us.

Emma’s going to be JUST FINE. In fact, she may just be the next Oprah! If we, as a society of human beings, LET HER FLY. I’m just so grateful that I get to witness and be apart of her journey. And I’m SO GRATEFUL that she’s apart of mine. During our wedding ceremony – Emma shouted out a few times – “UNCLE MATT” and/or “UNCLE DENNIS”!!! And we’d look to her – and once she had our attention – she’d just wave intensely and silently – ready to BURST. HUGE smile on her face. Like she just won the lottery or something. Like she had the bestest secret she could no longer contain. We wave back. Air kisses. Just THEE best.

What I didn’t realize in the shifting of those moments – all so beautiful – all so intense – some of the most intense of my life – so much so – that the fullness of emotion has the ability to really cloud clarity of presence….

“UNCLE MATT!”.

I turn. That smile. The pure joy. Oh. Hi Emma. Sweet Emma. I’m starting to get it. Thank you. Thank you for helping me wake up, pay attention, look around, feel and LISTEN. I remember every moment of that most beautiful day in my life – because of YOU, Emma.

“You and Uncle Dennis are MARRIED!! You LOOOOVE Uncle Dennis! (giggle snort)” – throwing her arms around my neck, me kneeling down to her.

“With all my heart, honey!” I say in her ear. “I know, Uncle Matt.” She says in mine. Then pulls back and puts her hands on my cheeks…

“And you love Uncle Bernie too???”

Gasp. “Oh. Yes. I do, Emma Bemma. So very very much.” And then comes the smile that could outshine the sun.

“He loves you TOO, Uncle Matt!!”

“AAAAAND UNCLE DENNNNNNISSSSSSSSSSS!!”

The Look Of Motherly Love

I am thinking about all of the mothers I know. Each of them on a truly unique path with their child. More children. More unique paths.

This is my mom. Holding the face of her 44 year old gay son on the dance floor at his wedding one week ago. I’m super grateful to my baby brother (and best man) for capturing this moment. Not every child gets to have an ongoing relationship with their mother, for numerous reasons, let alone one that is fueled with ongoing communication, affirmation and support. To that point, I am endlessly grateful. Wish I could take credit lol. But we don’t get to choose our mothers. Nor do mothers, their children. 

And no relationship, parental or otherwise, miraculously becomes something equally valued and loved, without effort and intentional connection from both parties. Day. After day. After day. After day.

It certainly starts one-sided though. Nurturing, feeding, comforting. Then fostering, reading, cheering. To teaching, disciplining, reasoning and encouraging. And somewhere in there – a new, soulful voice begins to engage, challenge, love and respect. Ideally, anyway. For me – I’ll never know anything else. Nor will I ever know what it feel likes to be a mother – with a child like me.

I guess I just want to give a big shout out to all the mothers out there. I see you all around me – all with completely different stories and relationships with each of your kids – and I think the only beautiful common denominator is that your love – your commitment – is never, ever EVER done. Even – when unthinkably – you survive that child. The journey of that unique relationship never ends. Never stops evolving.

I guess it’s fair to say that the flip side of that is true as well. For me, anyway. I hope for you as well. We all only have one mother each. Well. Birth mother. (But I’m guessing you get that I’m generally gonna be coming at these topics from a more spiritual place, than actual.) And though I know it can be quite a subject of debate – I believe we’re brought into the exact life we’re supposed to be. Mothers and all.

Makes me curious to hear about your experience and connection as mothers or with mothers. And if possible, what would you like to bring to that relationship – today?

Onedayonward. So grateful to be still forging onward with my beautiful mama by my side – holding my face on this day – finally witnessing one of the life-long dreams of her first born – feeling the fullness of every joy and sorrow I’ve ever know. I think I could write a novel about my relationship with my mom. Who knows – maybe I will someday. 🙂 And it will be a love story. A story of dreaming. Of courage. Of acceptance. Of growth. Of art. 

What’s YOUR Story? The World Needs YOU!

Today I had the honor and pleasure of speaking and training for a specific group of leaders in my business, none of which are in my personal organization. And I wasn’t paid to do it. That’s just how we do here. Helping others without return – because we have already been helped in the same way. I sure have been. It’s quite something to have your perspective so valued and lauded though – it lifted ME up today – which is more than any ‘payment’ could ever do.

My topic centered around the value in sharing our own stories and life journeys – particularly in social media – which is changing the way we connect with each other at warp speed – both personally and professionally. We live in a day and age where almost anyone, from anywhere, can rise up and make a difference. It’s quite a responsibility if you truly consider it. And I’m not saying that it’s gotta be DEEP all the time lol. People who consistently bring humor to their profiles and posts are some of my favorites to keep up with! But it begs the question as to whether or not we’re providing VALUE. Might just be one single person who finds the value, but that doesn’t lessen how impactful that can be. For when we impact one person, we inevitably impact others. 

I guess what I’m saying is that our story and our authenticity in sharing it – is so incredibly important. And we shouldn’t worry about it resonating with every single person – too big a task – and ultimately takes you down the path of  ‘generic’. But I think a great question to ask yourself before you hit ‘post’ is – is this potentially helpful to others? Or – am I just venting? Just looking for validation? And I mean hey – we all need validation – nothing wrong with that – it’s human nature. And if your current story is one of struggle and hardship (which I can very much relate to), it’s easy to get caught up in posting those things to get ‘likes’ and ‘loves’ and comments of support. Because struggle and hardship can be a very lonely place to live. But – and I’m gonna ask you to trust me on this one – if you’re able to weave those struggles into a story that engages with your efforts to overcome them – perhaps even to rise above them – well then it’s not just ‘likes’ and cheers of support that you’ll receive – it’ll be others sharing THEIR relatable stories in response to yours – and then conversation and communication ensues. And THAT – is valuable. To all parties involved. Perhaps even the world.

There are potentially countless people out there that need YOU to share YOUR story of value!! Your beautifully unique, ever-evolving story – which then begs of you a commitment and consistency in sharing it. It’s a pretty awesome and beautiful opportunity for each and every one of us – to be able to provide value in our own unique way.

So what’s YOUR story? Are you sharing it?

If not – what’s the story you’d like to share, but haven’t? And to that point -what are the obstacles you face that have prevented you from sharing it so far?

Please comment! I’d love to cheer you on in your bravery! Because the world needs YOU!

New Frontiers: Choosing Love After Loss.

Hi. My name is Matt. And this is my first blog post. I’ve shared a fair amount of my journey through other forms of social media over the last few years, but I’m definitely stretching myself here! 😉 I’m not sure if you’ll deem any of this as valuable to you personally, but I’m going for it anyway.

Through my 44 years, I’ve truly come to believe that the only constant in life is change. And it’s not what happens to us in life that defines who we are – it’s how we choose to respond to those things that ultimately pave the way – good or bad. Comparison is our arch enemy. It only holds us back. And yet, it’s in our nature to compare. So how do we actually and truthfully move through it? Especially in this day and technological age where we’re flooded with the highlight reels of all those we are connected to?

I used to be super private about my personal life. I imagine that’s largely due to coming out as a gay man when there was no certainty of acceptance. These days, I see more value in transparency. Sharing vulnerability without expectation of support; but rather, with hopes of truly connecting with others who can relate in their own, unique way. Engaging in that conversation. Which is what I hope to foster here.

A few days ago, I married the most incredible man. And the entire experience surpassed my wildest dreams – I got to live and breathe through the most beautiful showering of love. On almost every level – it was everything I never knew I ever wanted. Which makes complete sense now. Because my whole identity and planned trajectory had previously undergone drastic change. 

Four years ago this month, my life partner (and best friend) of 10 years, was killed in a car accident on his way to work. At that time, my forever future was defined by his presence in my daily life. And in an instant – that future was wiped clean. So how do you step through the painful (and often times horrific) moment to moment of each day when your compass has been ripped from you?

Well – I think it’s the little things that are the most powerful. The little shifts that most don’t notice. The choosing of progress over perfection. Being kind to ourselves and our bodies when it’s much easier to succumb to victimhood and self-sabotage. It’s not pretty every day. In fact, it can get pretty ugly. If my two beloved pups could talk – well – let’s just say I’m glad they can’t lol – but man, did they play a huge role in saving me. Forcing me into the present whether I liked it or not. Helping me learn that we DO have the power inside – each of us – to slowly start engaging with our hopes and dreams again – different though they may be. And it’s not just death that changes us. There are so many things, both beautiful and heartbreaking, that mold who we are. Who we are becoming. But we’re never ever stuck. We choose what we allow ourselves to be defined by. We just have to summon the power to take the next step. And then one more. And another.

When it comes to spirituality and faith – I feel strongly that if we (any one of us) are still HERE. Well then, we’ve either something still to learn – or something still to give. So ‘Onedayonward’ is all about trying to figure that out. Digging for the hope that lives inside us all. And I’m confident you all will most assuredly help me. I just hope that I might be able to contribute to your journey as well. XO, Matt