From My Perspective: Finding Gratitude Among the Loss

I’ve been writing about gratitude for the past couple of weeks. We’ve also experienced a lot of loss in Lincoln over the last several months.

Like many others, these losses have left me feeling incredibly sad. Rather than focus on the sadness, and probably because I’ve been hyper-focused on being grateful, I thought I would offer my own tribute to some of those we’ve lost who have impacted me along the way, and to remind myself and others not to focus on the loss, but rather to be grateful for all that they gave us.

In July, unexpectedly, I saw the obituary in the paper of Claudette Vanden Bos. Seeing her picture in the paper that week was a shock. She was always so lively, happy, and fun to be with. I first met Claudette when I was invited to participate in one of Lincoln’s book clubs. Book discussions and laughter were always on the table when Claudette was in attendance. When she had both her knees replaced (at the same time), I thought to myself ‘there’s a strong and courageous woman’ – and she was. Some of you remember Claudette for organizing the annual clothing giveaway. I remember her for this, her friendship with fellow book club member Heidi Vulcan, and her smile, every time I saw her. I’m grateful for all she did for our community, and am grateful to Ginger Stocks for heading up the clothing giveaway this year. Claudette’s reminder to me is to just live, have fun, smile and do what you can.

Later in July, I learned of Flo Whitworth’s passing. I didn’t know Flo extremely well, but I knew WHO she was because of her daughter, Clare Evenson. Those two were inseparable. She would ride with Clare in the side-by-side to eat in town, to shop and sometimes just to ride around. It made me smile just to see them together and you could tell the love they had for one another. When I heard of her passing, my heart broke for Clare, because I know how extremely difficult it is to lose a parent – and friend. If I learned anything from Flo, it’s that spending time with loved ones is one of the most important things. I’m grateful for the lessons these two ladies have taught me, and hope they touched others with their love as well.

Chuck Sutej’s passing earlier this month left me feeling sad for not only his family (and an amazing family they are) but for our town. I remember when I first went to a Community Benefit and to a Ducks Unlimited Banquet, there was “this guy” who kept bidding on stuff. My initial thought was “who is this guy?” My Dad, and my other half, explained to me who he was. I will always smile when I think of my initial response to him at these events, but little did I know at the time that he was really showing his support of our town, of our organizations, and setting a very good example of ways he could help a small community. Like him, his sons show tremendous support for our community, financially and with their time, as well as through their integrity. I’m so grateful to Chuck and Ethel for raising such wonderful men and for Chuck’s legacy of making a difference.

The loss that seemed to hit me the hardest, however, was the recent passing of Paul Roos. Maybe it’s because he and his wife Carolyn were two of the first people I met, even before deciding to make Lincoln my home. Maybe it’s because he and his wife made me feel so welcome, took an interest in me and my daughter, and helped me appreciate something in Lincoln I never thought I would: winter. Or maybe because I thought of him - like my father - as invincible, the loss solidifies that none of us are. What I’m grateful to Paul for is the example he set and the things he did in Lincoln to make it better. He was a huge part of making the Sculpture Park a reality; he ensured a River Park was possible for people to enjoy the Blackfoot in a safe way; and he was a staunch supporter of those who made Lincoln a better place. I’m grateful for his smile, his devotion and his friendship. He may have never known how he touched my life, but I do. I’m sorry I never told him, but I’m also grateful for this last lesson he gave me and reminded me of: don’t forget to tell the people in your life how much they mean to you – you may not have another chance to do so.

I’m sure each of you have suffered your own forms of loss this past year, and even prior to that. Writing this week’s column was both cathartic and healing in its own special way. I hadn’t imagined it could, be. Maybe it was the act of writing everything down, getting in touch with the emotions, the thoughts and the feelings, and putting them on paper. Maybe there’s more to it than that, I can’t be exactly sure, but I know it helped. It doesn’t mean I won’t be sad again, and it doesn’t mean I won’t remember the loss, but what it did give me was a way to be grateful and remember the good, while helping me to smile at the memories.

I invite you, as different as it may seem, to write your own form of tributes to what and who you have lost, and find reasons to be grateful. If you do, I hope you can feel the sense of healing begin inside of you – and that – well, it’s something to be hugely grateful for.