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I quietly moved the hospital sheet away from his face and gently tucked his blanket around him. It wasn’t that he was aware that I was there. It was to give me something to do while I sat watched him die. 

The life support had been pulled. He was wheeled into a private room with a window, a bed, and a metal folding chair. The chair was for me. I asked for a cot. One appeared within minutes. I wasn’t going to leave until he was gone. He had been asleep for over 24 hours. It was just a matter of a day or two before he was gone. 

I sat night and day in the metal chair that I pulled up next to him and said nothing. There wasn’t anything left to say and yet there were a million things to say. I did not know what else to do except to sit and wait. 

Once in a while a nurse would come in and check on me. Sometimes they brought me something to eat but mostly I would dash down to the cafeteria and grab a sandwich with a cup of coffee. I drank it black when they ran out of cream. I would stare at my watch when they were closed and counted the minutes until the cafeteria would be open again. 

He had a brain injury he would never recover from. I had loved him since the day I was born. He was my brother, my protector, and my friend. Letting him go peacefully was the greatest gift I could give him and the I resented it. I resented that he had been hurt. I resented that he would never wake-up again and laugh and tickle me. I resented that I had to sit there by myself with nobody to talk to. I resented him dying and I resented that there wasn’t anything I could do about it. 

For three days, I remembered everything I could about him. All our conversations, laughs, arguments, food fights, vacations and his relentless assurances that I was fine. I remember how angry he would make me and how horribly he would embarrass me when the grilled any boy picking me up for a date. It got so bad that I arranged to meet them down the street. He felt it was his duty and obligation to let them know that if anything happened to me, they would have to answer to him. 

Those memories filled my heart and mind with tenderness and tears. 

On the third day, knowing this was the day he would pass away, I had fallen asleep with my head on his bed. He had not moved for two days and the process was beginning. I slept lightly but exhaustion had taken its toll and I was in a deep sleep when I felt something brush my head. I thought I was dreaming and ignored it. I didn’t want to sleep but I also didn’t want to wake-up. 

I felt it again. My head shot up. I felt a kink in my neck and rubbed it. I looked around the room. I wasn’t sure where I was for a moment. I looked down a him. 

His eyes were open and he was staring at me. 

I didn’t understand what was happening. The doctors had told us he was paralyzed, so who had touched my head? 

“Hi,” I said. I had no idea what to say or what was happening. 

He smiled. He tried to talk but no words came out. This was impossible. He was paralyzed from the neck down. 

I leaned over and put my ear as close to his mouth. I held my breath. 

“I love you,” he said and closed his eyes. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as I could. I stayed like that for an hour, still not believing what had happened. 

“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I’m sorry for all the times I was mean to you. I’m sorry I stole your toys and hid them and made you mad. I’m sorry this is happening and I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it.” 

I felt him squeeze my hand. I started to cry. I thought that if I didn’t let go of his hand, he would live. It didn’t make sense but I was convinced of it. I held it tight all afternoon. 

A nurse came in to check on us. She smiled and pulled my chair over to me as if she understood that I couldn’t let go and therefore couldn’t sit down. 

I sat down and nodded her my thanks. She checked his vitals even though it was pointless. It was no longer a matter of days; it was a matter of moments. 

She quietly left. The door closed and his eyes opened again. He looked around for a moment and saw me. I stood up again and smiled down at him. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered. I leaned over again and listened. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said. He closed his eyes and was gone. 

I said nothing about it. I knew no one would believe me because it was physically and medically impossible for it to happen, but it did. I kept our secret. 

He forgave me to lessen my burden. He did it for me and not for him. That was the greatest gift he could give me. 

Weeks later, the pain was not less but I was learning to manage it. My family grieved but we tried to cope because there was nothing else to do. We carried on and pushed forward. 

His last words were all about forgiveness and acceptance. Teaching me to forgive myself and acceptance of something that no one could change. 

I honor him by forgiving myself when I am being my worst critic. I honor him by forgiving others when they have made a mistake because I know we all do the best we can with what we have. That includes me. 

Years later as I was walking down a hospital corridor to visit a friend, a man came around the corner suddenly and bumped into me. He startled me because I had been walking with my head down, once again deep in my own thoughts of failure and anxiety about a mistake I had recently made. 

I apologized as I stepped back and started to walk around him. felt his hand on my arm. I looked up and gasped. He had my brother’s eyes and smile. He could have been his twin except for his blonde hair. My brother had black hair. 

“It’s OK. Everything is fine and he’s good,” he said and walked away. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. I had a million questions for that stranger, but knew to not question what had just happened and to accept it for what it was — something I can’t explain but believe nonetheless.

I once again felt my burden leave and love for myself return. 

I smiled and continued to walk down the corridor with my head up and a light heart.  

https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/53069908-chicken-soup-for-the-soul

 I’m 62 years old and my new boss is 29 years old. “29,” I tell myself. “Let that sink in,” I mumble as I start up the monitor and watch it come to life. Everything in my world is digital and I come from “The Planet of the Paper” where everything is…oh, scratch that…was written down, paper clipped or stapled neatly (after banging the papers on the desk to make sure each and every corner was perfect), labels written and put onto folders (if needed) and either neatly stacked up at the edge of the desk for filing later, or walked to a file cabinet, a drawer opened and the paper neatly put away. Pens and pencils were important as well as erasers and “White Out.” 

I remember “White Out” and open my desk drawer to see if I have any.  

I don’t. I ask my new boss if we have any.  

“What is it” he asks.  

“What is what” I ask, certain he was joking.  

“That ‘White’ thing you just asked about,” he says as he continues to stare intently at his smart phone and scroll. “Did you say ‘White In”?

“No. White Out. It’s this liquid that’s white that you use to hide a mistake in typing…”  

“Just use your backspace key…”

“Right! Yes, of course. I was just kidding,” I say as I walk back to my desk and close the drawer. I only have one drawer in my desk. Who only needs one drawer in a desk?

People who don’t have White Out or envelopes or stamps, that’s who.

I log on and start reading my emails. This is a new job for me after suddenly being laid-off with everyone else from a company I had spent 20 years of my life building and putting my blood, sweat and tears into it. No one saw it coming and at the age of 60, I found myself unemployed for the first time since I was 16.

Divorced, unemployed and going through menopause.

I’ve had better days.  

But I somehow convinced this young man at a pizza parlor that he needed someone with my experience, wit, humor and charm to help him run his office so he could concentrate on sales. 

I had overheard him at the table behind me talking to his friend that he needed someone part-time. I immediately turned around in my chair and smiled as I stuck my hand out and introduced myself as the woman he was looking for. I made sure to put my slice of pizza down and wipe the grease off my hand.  

He looked perplexed but shook my hand out of reflex. I explained that I had overheard him, and I was looking for part-time work. I didn’t see the need to say I was past desperate and needed two full-time jobs just to catch up with some of my bills.  

Baby steps.

His friend, a funny and loud woman, kept poking him in his ribs and slapping him on his arm while we spoke, saying, “You’ve got to hire her! You’ve got to!”

After chatting for a while, we set-up a time to meet. I brought in my resume – which was the first one I had ever done – and gave him some references. I had called them the night before and threatened them with a long, slow, lingering death if they said anything stupid.

It must have worked because I got the job and found myself looking for White Out along with paper clips, a stapler, notepads, and an eraser.

“We’re totally paperless, so you know how to scan and save documents, right?

I nodded. I figured I would Google that as soon as he walked away.

It took me two days to learn how to transfer a phone call. There was no way to put it on hold, yell for him to pick it up and have him push the blinking light and answer the damn call.

No. I had to figure out the icons on what was the hold button, tap that and then look at the screen on the phone, find the little circle thingy and use that to scroll to something else, tap that, then go to another screen to put in HIS extension, push another key to ring his line, and then wait for him to pick-up.

All the while, he’s sitting 10 feet from me.

After the first week, he said he thought it was going well, and it was. He didn’t see me leave in tears on the days when I had no idea how to fax from my computer, or how to get the stupid printer to just print one damn piece of paper or the 20 minutes it took me to figure out how to get that one document onto a flash drive and then over to the hard drive to upload and scan somewhere for somebody to read, because being the professional that I am, I waited until I get into my car to have my nervous breakdown and crying fit.

On the days when an ill-tempered and rude client calls or comes in and thinks they can be hateful  to me, I smile sweetly and let them know they are attempting to mess with a woman who not only lived in a time when we had rotary phones and only three TV stations to choose from, but who also knew how to use a letter opener that I always have with me (next to the stamps and erasers) and that I would be more than willing to demonstrate up close and personal what I would do with it if they didn’t learn some manners.

Being a dinosaur has its perks.

https://classic.sasee.com/2018/09/dinosaur/

I’m late to this party of unemployment. I had worked steadily for almost 45 years before I was ever unemployed, and to this day, I still cringe when I remember what it was like to wake up and have no place to go. I didn’t need to pack my lunch or my planner. I didn’t need to check my schedule and do my morning ritual before leaving for the day. It didn’t matter if I had gas in my car because I had no place to go, no calls to make, no meetings to attend. 

 I felt my world and life had ended.  

I actually didn’t know what to do or where to go, so I sat down with my coffee and cried.

 I was scared. No, I was terrified and couldn’t move.  

From the time I was 14 and first started working – getting paid to babysit the neighborhood kids – to McDonald’s, retail stores, church work and long term office manager and training gigs – I have never not supported myself. I believed that if you worked hard, were a loyal employee, your employer would always be there and would always pay you. As long as you did your job the best that you could, your boss would always keep you and provide whatever was necessary for you to work and be a good employee. 

All we want to do is earn a paycheck for the work we do.  

Yes, times have changed since I was younger. They changed drastically one day for me. Actually, the day had been coming for 2 years but I didn’t want to know it. I hadn’t gotten a raise in 10 years but the owner was doing fine. Between his income from another company he owned and his wife’s income, life was good for him.  

I remember seeing pictures of the mountains of presents his wife had purchased for the upcoming Christmas.  

I also remember not only not having the money to buy presents, I didn’t have the gas money to go see my family. It was going to be another Christmas with friends and telling my parents that I couldn’t get away for a few days.  

As a single woman with no help, I started to feel the pinch 2 years before I lost my job. I kept hoping it would get better, that I was going to be alright as soon as things turned around but those thoughts felt empty and insincere.  

There I was, after almost 20 years of blood, sweat, and tears invested in a company I believed in, I was no longer relevant. My job was ending and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. One day I was employed. Struggling, but employed.  

Then one day – poof – gone and I was faced with starting over at the age of 60 years old.  

I had never been without work and a panic started that has not left me, even though I am currently working 2 part-time jobs. That panic, that feeling of terror, is with me 24/7. Never have I been so scared as I was then.  

I had no idea what to do, where to go, or who to talk to. I asked for help on what I should do, and some of the advice helped, but there was also advice that not only was bad, some of it could have been harmful if I had taken it. 

The bad advice I got was short and sweet, but if I knew then what I know now, I doubt I would have done it.  

1. First and foremost, the advice of applying for unemployment was not a good idea.  

I don’t begrudge anyone doing it. Don’t get me wrong. It helped me for a short period of time, and was far from more than enough, but it created a feeling of being degraded and a loser. I was shocked at how little I was allowed after more that 45 years of paying into it. I assumed it would help me get back on my feet, but it barely made a dent in my finances.  

On top of that, I was very careful to report to the penny any and all income I had earned while looking for work. I would pick up some gig here and there and I reported it correctly.  

But about a year later, I received a notice from them that they had overpaid me and I now owed them almost $2,000.00!  

I am not kidding. I called, emailed, sent letters and faxes, and all of them not only were ignored, the threats on seizing my accounts started. I protested the decision, requested numerous demands for a review but those also fell on deaf ears.  

I hadn’t done anything wrong, but was now being treated as a criminal from the department that made the mistake.  If I should ever say I need to apply again, do me this favor: show me this article that I just wrote and then if that doesn’t make me come to my senses, drag me out to the street and kick me. I would deserve it.  

2. “Just do what you love.”  

Yeah..well…I love to drink coffee, stalk people on Facebook, eat ice cream and take naps.

Telling someone to do what they love doesn’t pay the bills. Unemployed people need work and money. We really don’t care what we have to do to earn money, we’ll do it. Loving or even just liking it is not relevant. A paycheck is all that is relevant. Period.  

3. “Don’t settle. Get the job you want.”

What job? Don’t settle? Do you not get that there’s NOTHING to settle on? I’m out of work. I need a job. If I had the choice of NOT settling, then I wouldn’t be unemployed!” If I had an abundance of choices and job offers, then that would make sense.

But to tell someone who is scouring the internet, friends, family and anyone who will be brave enough to make eye contact with you, to not settle, is like telling a person dying of thirst to not drink sodas because they’re bad for you.  

God that makes my head hurt.

4. “Don’t give up.”  

OK, this one I agree with in general. You do have to keep going and moving forward BUT I think it’s a good idea when you’ve sent out your millionth resume with no response, give up for the day or at least the afternoon or evening when you just can’t take it anymore. It’s OK to give up; just don’t stay there the next day. You don’t have to be Superman or Superwoman every second of every day. You can walk away for a bit and go do something fun or stupid, then come back and start again.  

It’s bad advice when it comes from someone who is doing well and had never been in your situation. If they had, they’d help you find work, send you leads, bird dog for you and help.

5. “Find a rich husband.”  

Trust me, if I could, I would, so shut up about it. Seriously? If I could do that, I’d have done it long ago.  

I know that people generally have good hearts and intention. I know they mean well, but as I look back when a family member was unemployed for 2 years, I realize I could have been a much better friend. I also gave bad advice without understanding what it was like. How he got by, I don’t know, but after he found work, his entire demeanor changed. He was laughing again. I saw him more. It was as if being unemployed made him feel unworthy. He didn’t want to be around us employed people and I wish I hadn’t said a word and instead done everything I could to help him find a job.  

It truly does take a village and being unemployed can make a person feel as if his/her village is gone.

http://www.unemploymentville.com/blog/worst-advice-i-ever-got-about-unemployment/