Dormammu I have come to bargain

I understand the appeal of the old gods. I understand the appeal of the old gods. Greek, Roman, Viking. 

You could bargain with them. They accepted a barter society. 

The Christian dogma?  Not so much. Especially Lutherans due to that whole indulgences drama. 

But the other old gods were totally down with negotiating. Or so it felt. Like I tried to fly too high so I died. But flying wasn’t the thing. 

I’ll be a great warrior but I have one very huge weakness. 

I wish that negotiation with gods was a thing. 

I’m historically very bad with interpersonal relationships. After three years you either walk away or just decide to tolerate the fact I’m annoying. 

Maybe gods do that too? I pushed my luck asking for my wife and child to live through a traumatic early birth, and they all did. Twice! 

Yet it is in this context that I wish to know the rules. I have two amazing children. And they have a capable and supportive mother. We all won in that scenario. 

But I don’t get why I can’t find a god that will let me trade my time for someone else. In fact the only thing that makes sense is that my life is not a good enough payment. 

I have been very lucky that in my life I have not dealt with a lot of deaths. 

I was a teenager and so lost when my girlfriend’s infant sister passed. I had no context to grief and played a role. I tried but I don’t know that I did much. Yet she still has a hold on me. I have visited her grave and I hold those moments close but I don’t think at the time I really was able to understand the gravity of the situation. The reality. 

My grandfather died when I was in college. The man I knew after his  series of heart attacks and strokes was a kind and happy man. I don’t know that is how everyone remembered him. 

But that was the first family death I had to process. And it seemed to go ok. I went to the funeral. I shared memories. I appreciated friends and mentors driving through the night to be there. 

And then there was this massive ridiculous gap of death. 

I remember standing in the hospital hallway. In hastily put in scrubs just after my wife had been urgently taken away. Her life and my child’s life in the balance. 

I stood there. Petrified. Eventually someone came to find me because my wife asked where I was. I was just there in the hallway. Terrified. 

I was the absolute last person that any medical professional should have been thinking of. I was healthy and fine. 

My mom showed up hours later.  Because when she asked me what I could do, I said “I just need my mom” 

Two years later it happened again. But this time with two hours of chasing an ambulance to Louisville. 

And mom was there again. Showed up. As she always did. 

You could set your clock by the sun. Or the moon. Or the fact my mom was always there. 

The past however many months have been extra hard. Because due to cancer, my personal clock setting device doesn’t exist anymore. 

My mom can’t just show up and be there. She never fixed it. She just was there. 

And then tonight I went to a choir concert. I am quite poor at interpersonal relationships and recently that means one of my favorite people wants very little to do with me. He’s not wrong. I mean most days I don’t want to deal with me. 

But I wanted to hear him sing. To hear his choir. An incredibly talented group of singers. 

My mom loved them. The kids of course. But also the music. She volunteered as a choir mom. She connected with so many. 

One of the people she connected with is themselves an amazing giving person, who dedicates years to this choir. Always in the background, always supportive.

She donated in my mom’s name to the choir’s tour. I read it in the program and tears fell. I cried the whole concert. Six beautiful songs. I just let them flow. Ugly cry. But I did my best not to sniffle too loud. 

I have asked god or gods to take my years and give them to others more than once. I have encountered death in friends, family and more. And it never gets easier. 

It’s different and more with losing mom. And I’m still trying to figure out how to go forward when she can’t just show up and make me feel like I can make it. 

I also wish that more gods did negotiation. Because I do not think that the good people should have to leave if some of us are willing to take their place. 

But maybe, and I’m just not all the way there yet, but maybe, me still being here means I need to live like those I wish we hadn’t lost. But I’m pretty sure I can’t teach grade school for 40 years and put up with me as an offspring. 

So if any old gods wanna reach out, I’ll gladly give what I have so mom can have more.

She gave so much to so many. She shouldn’t have had to go so soon. 

Greek, Roman, Viking. 

You could bargain with them. They accepted a barter society. 

The Christian dogma?  Not so much. Especially Lutherans due to that whole indulgences drama. 

But the other old gods were totally down with negotiating. Or so it felt. Like I tried to fly too high so I died. But flying wasn’t the bad thing. 

I’ll be a great warrior but I have one very huge weakness. 

I wish that negotiation with gods was a thing. 

I’m historically very bad with interpersonal relationships. After three years you either walk away or just decide to tolerate the fact I’m annoying. 

Maybe gods do that too? I pushed my luck asking for my wife and child to live through a traumatic early birth, and they all did. Twice! 

Yet it is in this context that I wish to know the rules. I have two amazing children. And they have a capable and supportive mother. We all won in that scenario. 

But I don’t get why I can’t find a god that will let me trade my time for someone else. In fact the only thing that makes sense is that my life is not a good enough payment. You can’t pay for gold with tin. 

I have been very lucky that in my life I have not dealt with a lot of deaths. 

I was a teenager and so lost when my girlfriend’s infant sister passed. I had no context to grief and played a role. I tried but I don’t know that I did much. Yet she still has a hold on me. I have visited her grave and I hold those moments close but I don’t think at the time I really was able to understand the gravity of the situation. The reality. 

My grandfather died when I was in college. The man I knew after his  series of heart attacks and strokes was a kind and happy man. I don’t know that is how everyone remembered him. 

But that was the first family death I had to process. And it seemed to go ok. I went to the funeral. I shared memories. I appreciated friends and mentors driving through the night to be there. 

And then there was this massive ridiculous gap of death. I was so lucky. Then. 

I remember standing in the hospital hallway. In hastily put in scrubs just after my wife had been urgently taken away. Her life and my child’s life in the balance. 

I stood there. Petrified. Eventually someone came to find me because my wife asked where I was. I was just there in the hallway. Terrified. 

I was the absolute last person that any medical professional should have been thinking of. I was healthy and fine. 

My mom showed up hours later.  Because when she asked me what I could do, I said “I just need my mom” 

Two years later it happened again. But this time with two hours of chasing an ambulance to Louisville. 

And mom was there again. Showed up. As she always did. 

You could set your clock by the sun. Or the moon. Or the fact my mom was always there. 

The past however many months have been extra hard. Because due to cancer, my personal clock setting device doesn’t exist anymore. 

My mom can’t just show up and be there. She never fixed it. She just was there. 

And then tonight I went to a choir concert. I am quite poor at interpersonal relationships and recently that means one of my favorite people wants very little to do with me. He’s not wrong. I mean most days I don’t want to deal with me. 

But I wanted to hear him sing. To hear his choir. An incredibly talented group of singers. 

My mom loved them. The kids of course. But also the music. She volunteered as a choir mom. She connected with so many. 

One of the people she connected with is themselves an amazing giving person, who dedicates years to this choir. Always in the background, always supportive.

She donated in my mom’s name to the choir’s tour. I read it in the program and tears fell. I cried the whole concert. Six beautiful songs. I just let them flow. Ugly cry. But I did my best not to sniffle too loud. 

I have asked god or gods to take my years and give them to others more than once. I have encountered death in friends, family and more. And it never gets easier. 

It’s different and more with losing mom. And I’m still trying to figure out how to go forward when she can’t just show up and make me feel like I can make it. 

I also wish that more gods did negotiation. Because I do not think that the good people should have to leave if some of us are willing to take their place. 

But maybe, and I’m just not all the way there yet, but maybe, me still being here means I need to live like those I wish we hadn’t lost. But I’m pretty sure I can’t teach grade school for 40 years and put up with me as an offspring. 

So if any old gods wanna reach out, I’ll gladly give what I have so mom can have more.

She gave so much to so many. She shouldn’t have had to go so soon.