The March new moon has come and gone. My intention to write these blog posts while keeping time with the moon took a detour with news that Wayne’s father had died on March 4th. It was not really a surprise; Joe had heart challenges. Awareness of the inevitable, however, doesn’t lessen the shock when death occurs suddenly. Taking some time to process what one friend called the “rupture” was important, not just for me, but for the many people who were touched by Joe’s generosity. And that includes absolutely everyone who has been a part of the Further Shore network: clients, volunteers, students, patrons, contractors, donors, and friends. Without Joe’s assistance, my sacred work could not have had the reach it has had. If you are reading this now, I invite you to take a moment in your own way to offer a little “thank you” or to light a candle for Joe before reading on.
I have called him Daddy Joe for decades because he embraced me as family. As Robert put it, “Daddy Joe had a big tent.” What a gift it was to be included in his big tent. He was fearless, funny, and strong. Daddy Joe made me laugh and he had fortitude. Wayne shared both those traits with his dad. Laughter came easy and often when we were all together. As for fortitude, the Latin root is “fortis” meaning strong; often referring to strength of mind. Merriam-Webster’s definition is: “strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage”. Synonyms for fortitude include: backbone, fiber, grit, guts, spunk, mettle, stamina, perseverance, boldness. These words all describe Joe. They describe Wayne too. I learned about fortitude from them. It is a wellness practice that can be useful when caregiving, when life changes are happening, and when grieving. On the day I heard that Joe had passed, I called on fortitude. I am still calling on this quality today as my mind slowly settles into being in the world without Joe’s iconic presence.
The most memorable lesson in fortitude was given in the fall of 2004 when it was clear that Wayne needed to discontinue his cancer treatments and enter hospice at home. We were all gathered in Wayne’s hospital room while a compassionate physician delivered the news. It was a shock wave that we were unprepared for. I think we all knew on some level that Wayne was in decline, but we were not consciously aware or prepared for that news. Daddy Joe, a lifelong Catholic, stood up, said “I’m going for a walk,” and left the room. He was gone for a while. When he returned, he was steadfast and calm, sharing palpable strength and composure with Wayne and all of us. He later told Robert that he had gone for a walk and had a talk with God and deceased loved ones. He did not say what they all talked about, but he was clear-eyed, loving, and supportive for Wayne’s every last wish. He remained at the bedside through laughter and tears, through what felt like an endless stream of visitors, through long hours, strained conversations, and Buddhist chanting. Everyone knows that the loss of a child, even an adult child, is an impossibly challenging event. Joe had fortitude.
When Wayne received the news that hospice would be his best option, he appeared to move through all five stages of grief within a couple of hours; expressing his “acceptance” and his desire to go home as soon as possible. His father’s calm strength of mind and presence giving him the permission he needed to let go of the life he was living with grace and authenticity. The demonstration of fortitude from Joe was a gift to his son. Wayne picked up that thread and wove it into a dignified and gentle transition that humbles me to this day. Their good humor, pluck, and mettle were gifts to those of us who were privileged to witness their banter as well as their grief in the farewell process. We did our best to follow their lead when we were at the bedside. This was our induction to fortitude as a practice; to bring forth strength of mind to endure the pain of this farewell with courage. Without their example, we would have been lost.
Through the years, fortitude has become easier to access and exemplify while caregiving. Like all conscious actions, it takes attention and practice. I have not perfected it because development of fortitude, for me, is a life-long pursuit. To practice fortitude AND good humor is trickier. There are tools I use to reign in my distracted or disturbed mind: reiki, meditation, spending time with the Runes or my journal. I am grateful for those tools and even more so for Wayne and Daddy Joe. After learning from the best, I feel that authentic practice of both qualities is something I can do to sort of “pay forward” the gift they gave to me in allowing me to be there at such an intimate time. I miss Wayne in this world, yet he will always be a clear and present source of strength for me. The same is now true for Daddy Joe.
I think the rupture would have always been felt deeply upon Joe’s passing. It is compounded by a full year of collective humanity dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic. We have all been affected, each in ways unique to our own lifestyles and psychological perspectives. Collectively we have been dealing with danger, pain, and adversity for an entire year. I think that for many of us this is accompanied by an abiding sense of loss that is both chronic and obtuse. Joe’s passing sharpened that sense of loss for me. I had to put the brakes on my self-imposed writing deadlines to tend to the acute nature of the rupture. It is good to be writing again now. He would want me to continue following my heart and writing accomplishes that for now.
Some things to consider for your own wellness as we reach this milestone moment: Have you experienced a deep loss during the pandemic? How are you coping and staying well in these unprecedented times? How are you doing with the thunderous and subtle changes in daily life? Have you had, or do you now have, someone in your life to inspire strength of mind and/or to share laughter amid these challenging times? Has fortitude ever been a useful practice for you? What are your tools for reigning in a distracted mind when facing danger, pain, or adversity? What inspires you to lighten up and laugh? Please feel free to share in the comment section below. Wishing you peace, strength of mind, and laughter today.
Beautifully written, Aleia. I too am grateful our paths crossed and that I was also welcomed, with open arms, into Daddy Joe’s ginormous tent. Thank you for reminding me of his fortitude, humor and grace in facing challenges. He will be greatly missed by all who loved and knew him but will forever remain in our hearts.
Thank you. I’m so very grateful for your presence in that ginormous tent, Adrianne. The love will continue.
Brilliant dear spirit! Thank you for sharing so deeply regarding Wayne and Daddy Joe – very special to learn more about these two giant trees. With love!
Thank you Jack. Further Shore would not be as richly textured without them. The same is true for your compassionate spirit. I agree, these were two giant trees. Reminds me of the poem you and I read at a Bone Dance past. https://poems.com/poem/when-great-trees-fall/ by Maya Angelou.
Yes, exactly! And Kat read it at VTara’s Celebration!!
Much love and gratitude to and for you Aleia – I know of Joe’s Fortitude primarily via you, Robert and your inspiring works and open hearts. The ripples are strong, healing and loving ~ May Joe’s ginormous tent keep swelling with that love which is being shared and flows outward.
Oh, Peggy, I am so grateful for your words and for your presence, guidance and grace in the work we share a passion for. Tears of gratitude when I read this comment. The tent has grown larger indeed as Joe would have liked it. Many thanks.
Thank you for this Aleia, and again I extend my deepest sympathy to you and Robert for the loss of Daddy Joe. As I read this my Mother kept popping into my mind. While I may not have been aware in the moment, my mom was the picture of fortitude. She managed a life full of adversity, coming out of the great depression, having 2 babies in the dust bowl days, sending my Dad off to WWII now with 3 kids for him to return as an amputee, and then to lose him at the age of 58. But she never stopped showing up as her best self, strong, capable, resilient. Qualities like these are not common and when we have someone like Daddy Joe or my Mother as models of these elusive traits, their loss is harder to take. When we are able to emulate their strength in some way through the trials in our lives we honor their legacy.
Thank you, Kat, for sharing about your Mother’s fortitude. I am glad that this piece sparked the realization of her strength for you. Perhaps this Mother’s Day will be a time for a special remembrance of your mom. I think the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, my friend. You have showed these same qualities when faced with adversity. If you have time to read “G” is for Goals (for now, posted below “F” is for Fortitude), you will see a link to a TEDx Talk by Maria Nemeth that addresses the way we emulate the qualities we admire in others.