Backroads of Change
- Michelle Halloran
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
Throughout my life, I’ve often found it difficult to see the bigger picture amid unfolding events. It is only after going through major shifts that I can begin to weave together and process the underlying meaning of all I’ve experienced. I believe this to be the case for many. Possibly because life is not a straight path forward or easy for any of us, in any way. Much like the natural process of learning, it can span the spectrum from free-flowing joy to the overwhelmingly complicated attempts to simply move forward and stay afloat. When deep personal events hit, such as the loss of a loved one, illness, or personal and professional stressors, the effect they have on our overall well-being can overtake us, pushing us to reshape who we are and how we grow. Whether or not these events are within our control, they uncover new pathways to traverse and ultimately reveal parts of ourselves previously unknown.
It has always amazed me the depth to which the human brain, heart, and body can travel in search of peace and balance. We can only remain in survivor mode for so long before needing to come up for air. As my family navigated the passing of my father this past year, I have felt that sense of getting through just a moment, an hour, and then eventually a day. As unique individuals within our family, our coping mechanisms varied, and we realized the importance of allowing each other the grace and space to accept and process this deep loss in our own personal way. At the same time, providing each other with love and support became our lifeline. We often compared our grieving to the waves on the beach. There were times when an uncontrollable wave would pull us under, and it took all we had to stop tumbling and push up to the surface, grasping for air. Other days, the waves were lighter, smaller, and flowed to the shore and then back out to sea, not pulling us all the way in. The sun would be shining, and the storms had passed. In these moments, I would feel my dad’s presence and eternal peace guiding us all.
Allowing the waves to settle and subside, for me, requires a willingness to let go. It took me time to realize that letting go does not mean forgetting. I have no doubt my father’s love will remain in my being and deep in my heart throughout my lifetime. However, on a clear day, I can see how important it is for us all to find the joy in celebrating the life my parents built and gave to their family. My dad’s greatest accomplishment was his family, and honoring his love for us all will help us move past simply “getting through each day.” Rather than allowing the numbness to remain, we'll awaken as we learn this new way of life. As one line from a go-to song we would often hear him play states, “You can never get around what you gotta go through.” And he certainly went through it all, the very best way he knew how. I think of him catching the waves on the first surfboard he bought for $165.24, out in Santa Monica, California, in his younger years. It is my hope that as we continue this evolutionary process, we do so, riding each wave we encounter.
Throughout each chapter of my life, the paths I have taken have always etched themselves into my being. I love thinking about certain routes, at certain points, and reconnecting with that very time period. This is why I find no coincidence that in the year my dad passed, both personally and professionally, I was right where I was meant to be, living in the same town as my parents and teaching at the school my sisters and I attended in our primary years. The gratitude I felt for the move my family made a decade earlier came full circle as I held countless additional memories deep in my heart and appreciated being so close to them.
On a more professional note, when the culture at my home school, where I had been teaching for over twenty-five years, became unsettling, I made an intentional decision to transfer schools in search of a more supportive and authentic environment. Though leaving was not easy, to my surprise, returning to my childhood school brought me home to my roots. As I traveled each day to and from school along the back roads of my hometown, I felt a sense of peace during one of the most challenging times in my life. I found myself often reflecting on one of my father’s many sayings, which my family loves to reference as Papa-isms: “One door closes, another one opens.” Trusting the process as our chapters from the past and present merge has become a necessary component as we move forward and toward a future that is not yet known. As I look out on the horizon, I envision the light illuminating the waters from the skies above; I’m reminded that I’m already home and always have been.
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