Go with the flow

It took me several years to realize I can’t control everything. As much as I’d love to have my daily routine unfold step by step, scripted from start to finish, it just isn’t possible. I know that fate is my responsibility, but occasionally situations are out of my hands. I believe in doing my best and not worrying over what I can’t control.

I can credit most of this realization to my father. Growing up, and even today, I can remember his nonchalant, casual approach to everything. It took years of maturing before I was able to understand that it wasn’t for lack of caring or that he wasn’t concerned; rather he just did what he could.

When traffic is moving slow, when meetings last longer than they should, when the doctor can’t see me for two weeks, it’s my first instinct to cause a fuss, create a scene, and whoop and holler until something happens. Unfortunately it’s been my experience that this doesn’t help, and I don’t feel any better than I would have had I remained calm.

These instances are minuscule examples of why I believe it’s not important to focus on something you can’t change. This belief can be applied to situations of a grander scale.

My family was facing the possibility of losing its second member within three years. My aunt that died suddenly in her sleep was the forerunner of her cancer-stricken son; both tragedies caught everyone by surprise.

I never knew until my dad’s nephew, Little Denny, got sick just how much my dad really loved and cared for his middle-aged nephew. If anyone, other than Little Denny’s wife and children, was the most impacted by his sudden decline in health, it was my dad. I’d never seen a grown man seem so upset, so heartbroken, and helpless before in my life.

My dad spent hours, days, even weeks visiting at the hospital. There wasn’t much that he could do aside from bringing the family food or sitting with the kids while their mom rested and showered at the home of nearby relatives. He wasn’t a doctor and his nephew’s health wasn’t in his hands, but what he could do was offer his support.

Thanksgiving and Christmas were especially hard that year. We all knew how sick our loved one was, but no one wanted to talk about it. Smiles were forced, silences often uncomfortable, and in the back of everyone’s mind, we knew it wouldn’t be long before he was taken from us.

A few weeks into January that day came. I will never forget the look on my dad’s face, I know he was upset although, being a man of few words, he wouldn’t admit it. He never shed a tear and he was certain Little Denny -- a son, father, wife, brother, nephew, and uncle – was better off now than the rest of us.

My dad doesn’t know it, but while he was supporting his family, he was teaching me a lesson: do everything you can, and don’t worry about what you can’t change.