Three boys, one Dad

Last night I had to laugh at how long it took yet another friend of my parents to remark how unique in build and in personality are each of my brothers. We understood this concept at a very young age and even used it to confuse strangers for a moment of fun at their expense. A photo is attached below -- see how well you can determine the order of lineage!

Kev, myself, and Jer in Philly June 2008

 At polar opposites of merely all self-defining spectra situate myself and Kevin. This disparity used to cause familial contention but has since turned into a harmonious relationship. In fact, we are quite good as teammates: a quarterback and a receiver, a sniper and an infantryman, a banker and a salesman, one brashly curious the other cautiously bold. It's no surprise that one carries traits obviously similar to his father and the other his mother. Nature has a funny way of bringing people together -- it's in the genes!

Oh, I forgot Jeremy! Ah, he's used to being lost in the middle ;). Actually, Jeremy is perfectly suited to bridge the gap between his elderly and younger brothers. At the same time he can be both brazen and careful, cerebral and instinctual. The only married Cochran boy, Jeremy identified his passions earlier in life than us and, therefore, was always the easiest to buy gifts for. We're all looking forward to having him closer to Indianapolis, hopefully by this summer.

So it was good to hear that our dinner companions Steve and Eve (yes, really -- although after a brief Google search I realized that couples with shared phonemes are not as uncommon as I had thought) finally picked up on this link. They have been so nice to Mom over the past month that I almost consider them part of the family, even though I hardly know them personally. Once just friends of friends, the Schmidts soon became integral members of my parent's Friday night crew. And last night, with most of the crew out of town, it was my turn to experience the generosity and conviviality that my parents so blissfully enjoyed.

This past week was, as I mentioned in the last post, an anxious return to normalcy.  And, it was. The only aberrant detail was the continual outpouring of empathy and concern for my family's emotional health. Don't be mistaken -- I am flattered and feel extremely supported. However, the wise-ass that I am couldn't help but to comment, after hearing if there was anything they could do for me, "Dang, I need to start coming up with some needs!" Perhaps I am not being as truthful with myself as I could, but I still feel quite grounded. Like a tree that had been slightly uprooted due to a forceful shock, deep roots prevented replanting. All I needed was a little splint and some nutrients and nature took care of the rest.

Which leads me to the heart of my reflection -- how amazing it is that despite our differences we are virtually indistinguishable at the core. After dinner I came home to pick up some supplies and chat with Mom for a bit. Looking straight up from the black leather chair where I was sitting hangs the huge family portrait of 2006. Intermittently during our conversation I was drawn to the picture and its strange aura of cohesion. By no means is the composition perfect -- I think my shoes were untied, Dad was pinching Kevin's back and Jeremy probably had a stain on his shirt. But that's what makes it beautiful -- our contrasting personalities give the composition depth and balance. Plus, what speaks the loudest is what is unspoken and it is obvious each of us was posing out of honor for our father.

Honorable mention: Dad always used to say to me, "Jeff, you are over-analyzing this way too much." His way of dealing with problems was simple: drop the details and just move on. This thought struck every discordant string in my body. Analysis is what I did best! But as any high-strung individual knows, a snap is ultimately worse than the gradual, albeit painful, stretch. So thanks Dad for teaching me how to let things go and just move on. Life is about connecting with people, as much as ideas, and you are probably laughing too how long it took me to figure that out.

Back (somewhat) to normalcy

The weekend is over, the extended family has gone home and I returned to work today. The past four weeks have felt like four months of activity. Between trips to France, the hospital, and to dinner with friends, I can't remember the last time I simply sat to collect my thoughts. The Rosebay house, surprisingly, didn't look like the aftermath of a categorical tornado, although the kids did manage to clean and reset the house Sunday. The cleaning lady may still make her round this week, but it was nice to spread a little elbow grease that morning. As Dad always begrudgingly said, "We have to clean the house to get the house clean!"

All this still feels surreal. I have been as honest to myself as humanly possible, but even amidst Friday's gloom in seeing his human body so cold and lifeless, I can't help to approach the situation a bit lightly. Sure, I can force myself to think about the somber details of his passing, but the positive memories are simply too copious for me to concentrate on anything else. Intellectually I know that he is gone and that life will be different. Physiologically, however, I don't feel any different. I still crave oatmeal and coffee in the morning. I still need my exercise. I still reflect on past reunions, dinners, and vacations with joy. Not much in that spectrum of life has changed.

The emotional forecast looks bright but, as anyone who has lost a loved one will say, will undoubtedly fluctuate over time. I guess I can be thankful that my parents did such a great job with me in understanding life to the brink that I am doing so well right now. That's where this blog comes in handy. There are new paths that were once too scary to trod that have since become illuminated. Plus, I am learning more about the man I only knew as "Dad" and some of this knowledge transforms into epiphany. All that I learned from him is now fair game to re-examination and further interpretation. These lessons weren't just about how to field a ball or write an essay -- we are talking crucial tenets about love, laughter, social interaction, and personal wealth.

But, as we were repeated during the process at the hospital, "growth comes best taken one baby step at a time." That's a good lesson for today as I attempt to get back on the routine.