The Why Is the Loneliness of Space

“I miss the earth so much
I miss my wife –
It’s lonely out in space…”

—Elton John, Rocket Man

I asked for it. I did. I wanted it. All of it. The back-to-back travel that came with the candidate experience half-day workshops we’ve been running via the research organization I work for. Since February I’ve gone to 10 cities across the U.S. with a Toronto trip coming up to culminate delivering 13 workshops overall.

Not a Herculean effort compared to those road warriors who travel every week for business.
And no, I’m not looking for a medal or a gold star next to my name. I love doing what I do. I keep saying over and over that I don’t like being away from my girls and my wife, but I do love what I do and love to travel. (And no, I’m not going to sing you Cats in the Cradle.)

Although I think I keep saying it over and over because I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t miss my family as much as I do, which I do. Yes, I talk to them every day that I’m gone and we see each other on FaceTime. Of course it’s not the same as when I can give my girls a hug and give my lovely wife a kiss.

Now, combine that with the fact that my sister’s in the hospital four hours away from where we live and it gets even more complicated. Not just for the fact of being there for her and her grown children due to the seriousness of her illness, but for all the things that have to get done when a loved one is down. All the additional expenses that add up when you’re coming back and forth with your family or just yourself. Keeping your kids out of school if they come with you. Having to rent a frickin’ car because one of yours is in the shop. Managing your work and business trips in between. Attempting to unravel the highly complex realities of the healthcare system. Dealing with rotating nurses and doctors and technicians and social workers and endless paperwork and questions and headaches that all the hopes and prayers in the world can't make enough magic to change.

We just did this a few years ago with our own parents, and now my sister is the one in the hospital. You tell yourself that these are just the things that you have to do, and you don’t count the costs when it comes to taking care of someone you love and all the things around them that need to be taken of.

But you do count them, you have to count them, and that’s okay (so don’t look at me that way). Love is powerful, yes, and yet there are asterisks and footnotes in the paperwork. It’s just a matter of reconciling with yourself that these are the things you can and are willing to do and sustain as long as it takes.

The other morning I sat in my sister’s hospital room watching her sleep. I was the only other one in room with her besides the nurse coming and going. Her bed rolled automatically underneath her to keep her body moving and to help prevent pressure sores. It was fluid and slow, as if she were in zero gravity; I imagined she was floating in space. Why are we here? I thought.

“Why?” I said aloud. Why? It was just an allegorical question. A simple and calm inquiry. No angry fist shaking at God and the universe. No toxic well of emotion spilling forth in frustration.

Why?

Then I imagined we were both in space and all the years growing up together swirled around us and moved us along like soundless solar winds. I realized the why was pointless because it will never give me the solace I seek. The why is a vacuum that nature abhors.

The why is the loneliness of space, and it's gonna be a long, long time. And through it all I pray for my sister and miss my family.

Seeing the Other Side, Brother

"See you on the other side, Brother."


[blink]


My plane landed in Sydney, Australia, at 6:30 a.m. last Tuesday, exactly 18 hours in the future from my present and where I spent the next five and a half days.


Half of that time was spent at a new conference called the Recruiters' Hub Conference (RHUB) where I was invited to speak about marketing to HR and talent communities, while the other half spent exploring greater Sydney and the Blue Mountains. From the Three Sisters to Echo Point to Flat Rock to Featherdale Wildlife Park to Watson's Bay to the Opera house to Circular Quay to the Sydney Harbor Bridge to Hyde Park -- the scenes went from picture books to visceral experience for me.


I underestimated how transformative this trip would actually become for me, although I'm not sure we can ever estimate how transformative anything will be until we're transformed. My professional and personal life were about to become further elevated and integrated than ever before, what Jason Seiden calls being Profersonal.


To be immersed with a people not too dissimilar from my own, except of course the accent and Australian and English expressions like "right" and "fair enough" and "crikey".


To be around "brilliant" HR and recruitment professionals, agencies, tech suppliers and thought leaders alike who share the trends and challenges we do -- the growing contingent workforce, the complexity of government regulations, aligning corporate recruiting with recruiting agencies, recruiting technology innovation and efficiencies, and all things social including recruiting, marketing and PR.


To be moved and schooled by others while finding my voice when presenting. To connect and become friends with others who've also become comfortable their own skin, and who each day grow to like it more and more.


Indeed.

My Blue Mountains tour guide Paul was overheard paying homage to the show Lost, hence the quote up top. (He really looked like the character Desmond.) He was just one of many amazing people and connections I made during my brief time travel.

The time travel lifeline remained intact, however. Seeing and talking with the Mama and the B-hive on Skype sustained me with love while away, as well as being able to check on my dad and mom.


The transformative crescendo came all at once my last evening in Sydney as I sat in the greatest of company, surrounded by locals and tourists eating and drinking and enjoying each other's company at the Opera Bar as the lights of the harbor came on at dusk. Fireworks from an event at Hyde Park lit up behind us. Once the colors faded an unknown constellation shimmered in the early evening.


"Look, there's the Southern Cross! You wanted to see it!"

In that moment, I remembered many things all at once: man-handling old ghosts while growing comfortable with my own skin, meeting my wife on the beach, Beatrice's birth and Bryce's birth, my dad surviving radiation treatments and my mom just surviving, and meeting new amazing friends.
I saw the other side, Brother; I saw the future.

And I can't wait to do it all over again.

"When you see the Southern Cross

For the first time,

You understand now

Why you came this way.

'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from

Is so small.

But it's as big as the promise

The promise of a comin' day."

--Crosby, Stills and Nash

Having Bea for breakfast post business trip

Earlier this week I was swallowed by the oppressive summer swelter of New Orleans, our firm exhibiting at the SHRM 2009 Conference & Expo.

The show went well for us and our clients, but I missed Mama A and Baby B terribly. I talked to them both everyday, on speaker phone, and felt Bea's smile-coo that carried me through the trade show grind.

I got back late Tuesday and didn't see my sweet little Bea until the next morning. But as my sister-in-law posted on my Facebook account: "You're going to have Bea for breakfast!"

And I did. Now it's time for a little family holiday breakfast break. Be back soon.

Happy 4th of July! Happy Birthday America!