I don’t sing or whistle anymore.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I don’t sing or whistle anymore.  There are times I will think about it, the melody fills my head.  My lips form a note, and it is as if all the air inside my lungs has dissipated.  Nothing.  Just the opposite occurs – it feels like someone, or something has taken up residence on my chest.

Much has changed in my world the last several years.  Both my wife and I retired.  There was prostate cancer and radiation.  The house we raised our family in for nearly forty years was sold and a new home built. Several people I love dearly have died.  They haven’t been replaced by new life.

By the way, I use to teach and facilitate programs in change management.  Living proof of the adage, “Those who can do.  Those who can’t teach.”  Now, the picture has been completed.

Sitting, resting, standing, or swimming.  I want to whistle, hum, or sing a song and nothing happens.  The attempt to make a sound makes me feel sad and desolate.  The therapist in me assures the rest of my brain that I can, should, and will deal with this.  The sadness is not sufficient to get help or do something harmful to myself.  After significant consideration and research, the catalyst for the quiet is aligned with a shorter continuum with glee and despair at the endpoints.  There is the realization of no longer becoming really, really happy or sad anymore.  

There is a parallel realization of being blessed for many wonderful things in my life.  Family, home, resources are present in this life.  The loss of loved family, a family that is not growing, the reality of aging all is present as well.  Remember the exercise where you list all the positive and negatives to support a decision?  This activity, for me, warrants two equal sides.  

I do my best thinking when swimming laps.  Lately, the hypothesis I’ve developed is that there are many ways to approach life.  The glass half empty or half full is not our only lens.  The progression of life is a series of starts – middles – finishes.  A child jumps for joy as a response to everything in their world is new.  Opportunities to experience new and different is omnipresent.  There are still challenges.  They become muted by a sense of reality and a dose of déjà vu.  Understanding leads to acceptance.  The colors of pure, unadulterated pleasure and joy are there.  Only, there is less luminescence in the digitized product.

None of this is to be considered disappointing.  It’s more of a conclusion.  I may not sing or whistle, but I still know how.