(Note: I have been trying to write this post for about 6 weeks. It's been hard to do; every time I start to write, I start crying. As I have been thinking about so many things that have happened, I knew I wanted to share this with you. I am sorry for the length, but it was very important to me that I write the whole story.)
About three weeks before I left my job, I received the news that a dear friend had passed away. Ray Fitzgerald was a good friend and former coworker and I looked up to him in every way. He and his wife, Kristin, were this amazing couple that absolutely brought out the best in each other and just being around them made you want to be a better person, too. He was an amazing dad to three gorgeous little girls and he and Kristin were devoutly religious.
I last saw Ray a week before he was diagnosed with cancer. He didn't look very good and had lost some weight. But he was still laughing and funny and simply said his stomach had been hurting and had a doctors appointment the following week. At 37, when a friend says that his stomach hurts, you think "Time to cut back on the red meat and beer, Fitz" not "It could be serious, like stomach cancer." Nine months later, his now widow sent out the following email:
Loved Ones,
I am writing to tell you that our precious husband, father, son, brother and friend has finally been healed from cancer. Ray went to the loving arms of his father last night. We are so very sad at the loss of our treasure Ray. We know though, that while our lives will not be the same without Ray here on earth, they are so much richer because of him. We are changed for the better. And his legacy, like our love for him, will live on always.
We are so grateful to you for all of your prayers, encouragement and emails. This was a hard fight -- and we know it was a little less hard because of your prayers.
We pray this day for strength and peace as we remember and celebrate our Ray. And for God's constant accompaniment on the new journey we are beginning.
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins." Isaiah 40:1-2
not alone and not afraid
--
kristin
Through this entire battle, Kristin had been sending DAILY emails updating us on the day's events and I mean daily. There are over two hundred updates. Sometimes it was simple and hopeful, sharing a moment they had, like watching TV and Ray seemed like himself while talking with the girls. Other times, it was quiet and reserved, detailing the painful effects of chemo, radiation and toll that all of that takes on a family day in and day out for nine months.
Kristin never complained and she says Ray never did either. She never seemed angry or sounded victimized. Her emails were matter-of-fact, but ALWAYS hopeful. Hopeful that Ray would recover, hope in faith that the Lord knew what He was doing.
And there was always a scripture. Sometimes, all I had to do was read the scripture to know how things were with Ray. That is so much of who Ray was. As an Irish Catholic from the South Side of Chicago, he was never shy or apologetic about his faith. While we worked together, he was my go-to guy on all things Catholic. Especially during my first Ash Wednesday. I had never been around so many practicing Catholics, so I had a LOT of questions. :)
Her emails were always signed "Not alone and not afraid -- Kristin and Ray." Having read that last email with just her name at the bottom brought such a rush of emotion, that I just cried and cried for hours. I didn't care that I was at work or that anyone saw me. Ray was a great man and he is missed so much by so many people.
Literally thousands have been touched by Ray and Kristin and their girls. By their kindness and their faith and their goodness and their example. We do not share the same faith, but we all share the same God and this experience has brought so many people in this hardened city back to their knees, back to their faith.
So, myself and roughly 10-12 former coworkers and associates flew back to Chicago for the funeral. I flew in before everyone and spent the whole night in my hotel room crying. I knew that I was deeply saddened by Ray's loss, but I also see now how depressed I was with my stupid job. I was completely miserable 10 hours a day and I see now how much that taints everything else in life.
While it was great to spend time with my old coworkers, whom I love and we all share a close bond, like family, I felt so distant because I was so unhappy. Here Kristin and the girls had lost their husband and father and whenever someone asked, I said that I hated my stupid job. I couldn't even get up enough fake energy to lie about my job and it made me feel worse.
At the visitation, I have never seen such a physical and numerable manifestation of love in all my life. THOUSANDS waited at least two hours in line just to see Ray and pay respects to Kristin. And the line never shortened. As fast as people were able to hug Kristin and take a moment alongside Ray's casket, people were arriving. I was able to see so many people that I knew over the years and it was heartening to know that we all loved Ray so much. Powerful men and women, that I have long respected and admired were crying and devastated and I was grateful to just have known a man like Ray. I felt a weird comfort by our combined grief. The visitation was over 9 hours long for poor Kristin. And if that wasn't as emotionally exhausting and jarring enough, the funeral was the next day.
Hundreds of people, bagpipes and all, paid our respects, although definitely not our last, to Ray. And the buildup of the previous few days got to me again and again. My life became absolutely clear to me: I am not who I want to be, I do not live my life the way I should. Life is too short to be this unhappy.
After making it home from Chicago, things changed for me. I was completely driven to change my life, to be happy again and to focus on the things that matter. My priority was to get out of that job. I had to do it. It seemed like more than my sanity was at stake. Ironically enough, the surprised person to whom I handed my resignation had previously, casually, suggested to a group of people the book "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. I don't care who you are, or what you do. If you are at all unhappy, you MUST read this book. It really helped to put things into perspective.
Finally, when enough became enough, I had to just quit, even if it didn't seem rational or smart. I deserve better. I need more. Life is too short and too precious to be that unhappy for even one single second. There is too much good, too much to offer, too much to receive and hopefully so many more days to continue to shape my life into one that is truly Christlike. Like Ray.
As Kristin said in her eulogy at the funeral: "Ray met his illness by saying 'God will not give us more than we can handle.' ... Even in his sickest of days, Ray was always courageous, uncomplaining, thoughtful of others, and at peace. When we started the emails to ask for prayers for Ray's illness, it was Ray who said to end them with Not Alone and Not Afraid. Though the emails were often in my voice, I was simply telling the story. A story of hope, joy and peace that refused to be defeated..."
Now my priority is to be able to say the same thing about my life when the time comes and that is a good feeling.
About three weeks before I left my job, I received the news that a dear friend had passed away. Ray Fitzgerald was a good friend and former coworker and I looked up to him in every way. He and his wife, Kristin, were this amazing couple that absolutely brought out the best in each other and just being around them made you want to be a better person, too. He was an amazing dad to three gorgeous little girls and he and Kristin were devoutly religious.I last saw Ray a week before he was diagnosed with cancer. He didn't look very good and had lost some weight. But he was still laughing and funny and simply said his stomach had been hurting and had a doctors appointment the following week. At 37, when a friend says that his stomach hurts, you think "Time to cut back on the red meat and beer, Fitz" not "It could be serious, like stomach cancer." Nine months later, his now widow sent out the following email:
Loved Ones,
I am writing to tell you that our precious husband, father, son, brother and friend has finally been healed from cancer. Ray went to the loving arms of his father last night. We are so very sad at the loss of our treasure Ray. We know though, that while our lives will not be the same without Ray here on earth, they are so much richer because of him. We are changed for the better. And his legacy, like our love for him, will live on always.
We are so grateful to you for all of your prayers, encouragement and emails. This was a hard fight -- and we know it was a little less hard because of your prayers.
We pray this day for strength and peace as we remember and celebrate our Ray. And for God's constant accompaniment on the new journey we are beginning.
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins." Isaiah 40:1-2
not alone and not afraid
--
kristin
Through this entire battle, Kristin had been sending DAILY emails updating us on the day's events and I mean daily. There are over two hundred updates. Sometimes it was simple and hopeful, sharing a moment they had, like watching TV and Ray seemed like himself while talking with the girls. Other times, it was quiet and reserved, detailing the painful effects of chemo, radiation and toll that all of that takes on a family day in and day out for nine months.
Kristin never complained and she says Ray never did either. She never seemed angry or sounded victimized. Her emails were matter-of-fact, but ALWAYS hopeful. Hopeful that Ray would recover, hope in faith that the Lord knew what He was doing.
And there was always a scripture. Sometimes, all I had to do was read the scripture to know how things were with Ray. That is so much of who Ray was. As an Irish Catholic from the South Side of Chicago, he was never shy or apologetic about his faith. While we worked together, he was my go-to guy on all things Catholic. Especially during my first Ash Wednesday. I had never been around so many practicing Catholics, so I had a LOT of questions. :)
Her emails were always signed "Not alone and not afraid -- Kristin and Ray." Having read that last email with just her name at the bottom brought such a rush of emotion, that I just cried and cried for hours. I didn't care that I was at work or that anyone saw me. Ray was a great man and he is missed so much by so many people.
Literally thousands have been touched by Ray and Kristin and their girls. By their kindness and their faith and their goodness and their example. We do not share the same faith, but we all share the same God and this experience has brought so many people in this hardened city back to their knees, back to their faith.
So, myself and roughly 10-12 former coworkers and associates flew back to Chicago for the funeral. I flew in before everyone and spent the whole night in my hotel room crying. I knew that I was deeply saddened by Ray's loss, but I also see now how depressed I was with my stupid job. I was completely miserable 10 hours a day and I see now how much that taints everything else in life.
While it was great to spend time with my old coworkers, whom I love and we all share a close bond, like family, I felt so distant because I was so unhappy. Here Kristin and the girls had lost their husband and father and whenever someone asked, I said that I hated my stupid job. I couldn't even get up enough fake energy to lie about my job and it made me feel worse.
At the visitation, I have never seen such a physical and numerable manifestation of love in all my life. THOUSANDS waited at least two hours in line just to see Ray and pay respects to Kristin. And the line never shortened. As fast as people were able to hug Kristin and take a moment alongside Ray's casket, people were arriving. I was able to see so many people that I knew over the years and it was heartening to know that we all loved Ray so much. Powerful men and women, that I have long respected and admired were crying and devastated and I was grateful to just have known a man like Ray. I felt a weird comfort by our combined grief. The visitation was over 9 hours long for poor Kristin. And if that wasn't as emotionally exhausting and jarring enough, the funeral was the next day.
Hundreds of people, bagpipes and all, paid our respects, although definitely not our last, to Ray. And the buildup of the previous few days got to me again and again. My life became absolutely clear to me: I am not who I want to be, I do not live my life the way I should. Life is too short to be this unhappy.
After making it home from Chicago, things changed for me. I was completely driven to change my life, to be happy again and to focus on the things that matter. My priority was to get out of that job. I had to do it. It seemed like more than my sanity was at stake. Ironically enough, the surprised person to whom I handed my resignation had previously, casually, suggested to a group of people the book "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. I don't care who you are, or what you do. If you are at all unhappy, you MUST read this book. It really helped to put things into perspective.
Finally, when enough became enough, I had to just quit, even if it didn't seem rational or smart. I deserve better. I need more. Life is too short and too precious to be that unhappy for even one single second. There is too much good, too much to offer, too much to receive and hopefully so many more days to continue to shape my life into one that is truly Christlike. Like Ray.
As Kristin said in her eulogy at the funeral: "Ray met his illness by saying 'God will not give us more than we can handle.' ... Even in his sickest of days, Ray was always courageous, uncomplaining, thoughtful of others, and at peace. When we started the emails to ask for prayers for Ray's illness, it was Ray who said to end them with Not Alone and Not Afraid. Though the emails were often in my voice, I was simply telling the story. A story of hope, joy and peace that refused to be defeated..."
Now my priority is to be able to say the same thing about my life when the time comes and that is a good feeling.
1 comment:
You made me cry! What a beautiful tribute to an obviously beautiful couple. I'm proud of you for being brave enough to make the change that you needed to make even though it was terrifying to do so. I have always admired your bravery. This entry helped me deal with a broken foot that has effectively put the brakes on my life. THANK YOU!!!
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