So very much is determined by focus. Deep blue waves, framed by a beach of golden
sand, and a sunset of vivid pinks and oranges are missed because the focus is
on the lone pigeon walking on the beach.
Majestic mountains, crowned with snow, and covered with deep green pine
trees and crisp yellow aspen trees become a blurry mess because the focus on
the camera was set wrong. An alley
strewn with trash and surrounded by abandoned buildings is made beautiful
because the focus is on the child who is sharing lunch with a homeless
stranger. No matter how beautiful, or
ugly, the scene, our focus determines what we actually see. In turn, what we see often determines how we
feel and how we respond.
This past week
a tragedy claimed the life of Carolyn Bridger.
The world lost a musician who touched your heart and soul with her
passion and her talent. Let me be clear,
when I say world, I mean at the very least the four continents on which she has
performed, taught, and won awards. The
communities in which she lived and served are reeling from the loss of a
mentor, colleague, friend, and an indispensable member of more than one staff
and of a symphony. Most importantly, a
family dear to my heart, lost a sister and an aunt, one who they
treasured. A facebook post by one of
nieces is what sparked my thoughts on focus.
She stated, “Our family is choosing to focus on and
celebrate her life rather than dwell on the tragic manner in which she died.” What
struck me was the truth of that statement.
This is a family who will truly focus on the joy their loved one brought
and the cherished memories, rather than the tragedy. That’s powerful to me. Powerful because that is not the easy way
out. Powerful because it shows the
nature of this family. Powerful because,
I know, it represents the deep, unconditional love they share.
In order to in
any way give you a true picture of the power of that statement, you either need
to know the family, or have some background.
These are not hollow words thrown out because it is the right thing to
say. This is the heart of this
remarkable family. Having known them for
over 30 years, I can almost hear some of them in my head. They are thinking right now that I am
overstating or exaggerating. They are
thinking that I am presenting a perfect family when we all know that isn’t even
possible. To me, that is exactly what
makes them so remarkable. They aren’t
perfect, they work at it. They love each
other because they choose too, not because they live in a fairy tale. One of the nieces said that to be fair, I
should tell you how much they have fought throughout the years. So, I will try. I met three of the nieces when I was
six. Katie and Amy became my very best
friends. Erin, who is several years
younger, was subjected, along with my brother, to the torture that three older
“sisters” can inflict on younger siblings.
Yet, she is kind enough to still call me friend. Yes, they could fight. If one were to judge fights, many of them
would have been ranked, epic. The nature
and intensity of their fights comes from the brilliance of each
participant. All three sisters are
incredibly gifted artists and have brilliant minds. That much intensity, talent, and passion is
bound to explode at some point. The
crucial point here though, is not the fighting.
It is the fact that they have chosen to love each other, protect each
other, and value each other with that same level of intensity. If their fights were epic, their defense of
each other is nothing short of legendary.
No amount of disagreement among them could change their level of love
for each other. They watched their
mother and her sisters model it and live it out every single day. They have a bond that I simply cannot find
the words to express. I know that I
crave that kind of connection with others.
I know that it is a palpable love.
I know that it has been tried and tested, maintained, and
strengthened. I feel when I am with
them, I see it in their actions, and I hear it in their words.
As a child, I
marveled at the relationship that their mother, Susan, shared with her sisters
and their mother. They were a
force! Only Susan and her sister, Beth,
ever lived close to one another, geographically, that I can remember. Even then, Beth and her family moved while I
was still young. The distance never
stopped them. To this day, they are
together whenever it is possible. Plans
are made, schedules manipulated, and every resource used, to ensure that they
are together often and for every important event. If you know me, you know that I struggle to
remember details, especially from when I was younger. What I remember well are feelings. When I think of Susan and her sisters, I
remember that there was love, and respect, and deep desire to be together. I know that I specific, tangible, memories of
both Beth and Carolyn – which is proof that they were extraordinarily important
and present. I remember that Susan felt
a deep love for all three of her sisters – including Ellen – the youngest – of
whom my memories are very limited. She
enjoys them, she cares for them, she is connected to them, and it was such a
powerful testimony to me. It continues
to be. I remember when one of the
nieces, Robyn, was performing (yes – they are musically gifted). It immediately became the focus for the
entire family. Everyone was excited for
her, everyone made an attempt to be there, everyone shared their encouragement
and deepest hopes and wishes with her.
Focus. Their focus is on
family. Their focus is on celebrating
each member of the family.
Katie, Amy,
and Erin, have continued that legacy in such a beautiful way. Right now, as I type, they are together. They all have jobs, and families, and
responsibilities in other places, but they are together. They are laughing and crying together. They are supporting each other and
celebrating their Aunt Carolyn. They are
allowing their children to play and enjoy each other, even in the midst of
their immense pain. Focus. Their focus is each other. Their focus is family. What they share is exceptional, and is made
even more remarkable because they choose to make it that way.
