www.HoneyIShrunkTheGrief.com
© 2012 Eric Vaiksnoras

“If it’s not fun, why do it?”
.~Ben and Jerry’s business motto

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Oddly enough, I’m realizing how the quote above can apply very nicely to everything in my life, including grieving. I imagine that may sound totally bizarre, because what’s “fun” about death and grieving? Well, I should begin by saying that all the pain and heartbreaking feelings that accompany death are in no way “fun” to me. Those are what they are, and while I think they serve an important purpose, “fun” would not be how I would categorize them. But what I do see as fun and exciting about grieving is searching for and discovering the pieces of hope and love along the way. These day-to-day discoveries continue to brighten the way I see death and life.

I’m finding how beneficial it can be to search out the fun, no matter what the circumstance. I recently had an opportunity to learn from a man named Paul who was quite proficient at seeing the fun in his world. This very brave man engages regularly in an activity that, like grieving, is also very extreme. Paul is a professional skydiver. I’d like to share an account of the exhilarating day that our paths crossed, and how Paul illustrated to me so perfectly, this idea of the importance of “finding the fun”.

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The following took place in June of 2009:

I’m a curious person who likes to experience new things, and I think this curiosity is what drew me to skydiving. To further this attraction, I had a cohort who was equally interested — my adventurous Uncle Steve.

After years and years (around 20!) of discussing how amazing we thought jumping out of a plane would be, we finally decided it was something that we were going to stop talking about, and actually do! This decision was partly inspired by the movie The Bucket List, a story about two friends who created a list of meaningful things that they wanted to do before they “kicked the bucket”. My uncle and I watched this wonderful movie together and were inspired to create our own list—and not just any list—but one that included our very own skydiving adventure!

We made some calls and reserved a spot at a nearby skydiving center. My excitement grew with each passing moment. Jump day finally arrived, and we met up for breakfast with some supportive family members. The mere anticipation of it had our excitement levels off-the-charts. I felt like a child about to ride his bike without training wheels for the first time, or experience some other perilous feat equally as grand!

My motion-sick prone stomach was already hinting at a protest, so I decided to play it safe and order the oatmeal, as that seemed like a good choice being that it was already in throw-up form! We nervously enjoyed our breakfast as we mentally prepared for what we were about to do. The moment was filled with such life. We were all wide eyed, and there were lots of big and anxious smiles going around.

During breakfast my uncle gave me a printout of the lyrics Live Like You Were Dying, by Tim McGraw. This song fit our adventure so perfectly that we had decided a few weeks earlier that it needed to be the theme song for our jump. I had listened to it often as the days grew closer, and the printout of the lyrics couldn’t have been a more perfect gift. The following calming and inspiring words from the song played in my head numerous times that morning…
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“I went skydiving, I went rocky mountain climbing,
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.
And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter,
And I gave forgiveness I’d been denying.
And he said: “Some day, I hope you get the chance,
To live like you were dying.”

”Like tomorrow was a gift,
And you got eternity,
To think about what you’d do with it.
And what did you do with it?”

 

After breakfast we made the hour-long drive to our jump site that was located in a rural area of Ohio. We pulled into the big gravel driveway and parked our cars. I looked up to the skies and smiled at the absolutely gorgeous sunny day that surrounded us. Our big day had arrived, and Mother Nature couldn’t have been more cooperative.

We made our way over to the registration window where we each were handed a stack of liability forms to fill out. We spent the next 20-30 minutes completing these grueling forms. I say “grueling” because each form highlighted the risk involved in this activity, beginning with page one that was loaded with statistics on how many skydiving accidents and deaths occurred the previous year. This was a tough way to start our “fun” adventure. Neither one of us was doing this to escape life, rather the exact opposite, but we were being forced to focus on the risks involved so that we would have a better understanding of what we were about to do. We made our way through the thought provoking forms and signed our name on the dotted lines, exempting the skydiving center from any liability.

After turning in our paperwork, we began another nerve-racking process…waiting. We spent a tension filled hour waiting until it was our turn to board the plane. Fortunately, these trying moments were filled with laughter and other welcomed distractions. We also passed some time getting fitted for our jumpsuits, which were colorful and thick one-piece zippered suits that fit overtop our clothing. We shared a few laughs when I was handed a yellow and pink jumpsuit! I am 6’3” tall, and that was the only jumpsuit they had available in my size. Mine didn’t seem as cool as my uncle’s blue and black one, but I decided that in the grand scheme of things, the color of my jumpsuit should be the least of my concerns!

We waited a little longer in our colorful new attire and then were finally told that we could board the plane. We gave each family member that came to cheer us on a great big hug, and exchanged “I love you’s”, then made our way over to the plane. I was feeling the strangest mix of excitement and fear. I made my way up the short wooden ladder and crouched down as I entered the tiny plane. My uncle was sitting a few feet behind me on the long block bench that ran parallel to the body of the plane. I was grateful that he was close enough that I could look over my shoulder every once in a while to give or get a reassuring smile or nod. We all sat facing forward straddling the bench. The tandem instructors we each would be strapped to sat directly behind us and began to make the necessary connections that would allow two people to jump as one.

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This is where Paul, the brave and insightful man I briefly mentioned at the start, comes back into the story. Paul is the tandem instructor I was paired with. He is a tall, middle-aged guy who has a very confident and reassuring presence to him, which I very much appreciated. As he was connecting our harnesses together, I was thinking about how intense the situation was, and I soon found myself trying to figure out what his attraction was to it all. Curiosity got the best of me, and I looked over my shoulder and asked him, “What keeps you coming back?”

He pondered my question for a few short seconds and replied, “I don’t know, I guess it’s probably some sort of psychological addiction.”

I thought to myself, Wow, impressive. I wasn’t expecting such a deep answer.

Then he added, “Mostly, I think I do it because it’s fun.”
(This response of his made a big impact on me. I will comment on the significance I find in it . . . but first I have a plane to jump out of!)

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Paul finished fastening our harnesses together, as our loud and vibrating plane continued on its 15-minute climb to the proper altitude. This left me with plenty of time to think, and I had the most bizarre range of thoughts—from feeling like I was in some sort of execution line, to feeling like I was about to experience the coolest thing I had ever done. I recall being in some strange Zen like trance at times, to try and manage the absurdity of what I was about to do. I remained relatively calm and was in a pretty peaceful place, yet at the same time, I was keenly aware of the uncertainty of it all.

More thoughts raced through my head.

Is this the end?
I hope not.
I feel at peace with my life if it is.

I was afraid but comforted by all the love and hope I was feeling. I felt Julie with me. I felt David with me. I felt God with me. I would be ok, no matter what happened.

We eventually reached the desired altitude, an elevation of approximately 13,600 feet, and Paul and I received the green light from the pilot to proceed to the 5ft-by-5ft door that we would exit out of. I was as ready as I would ever be and gave one last nod to my uncle, who would be jumping shortly after I did. Paul and I then began to scoot forward, and made a slow and unnatural “tied together” shuffle to the door.

We finally arrived at the open door. As previously instructed, I squatted down on the balls of my feet and carefully inched my way forward until my toes were dangling over the edge. I remained crouched down in this position for about a minute-and-a-half(!), while looking out into a breathtaking and dreamlike panorama, as I intensely awaited the go-ahead from the pilot and my tandem partner. As the moment of our departure grew closer, part of me felt like a tense cat that wanted to suddenly lunge his arms and legs outward, and hold on for dear life to anything he could hook his long limbs onto. Thankfully, I was able to keep this scaredy-cat part of me at bay, and in spite of all my fears, I got lost in the beauty of the moment and kept my cool.
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Preparing to Jump
13,600ft.

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Our moment came and Paul confidently readied us for our leap of faith. Just as we had practiced on the ground, he would call out three cues to synchronize our movements in preparation for a clean exit. He began with, “READY,” and we slowly rocked forward, leaning our upper bodies slightly out the door. Next he called out, “SET,” and we rocked our bodies slightly back inside the plane. Then he gave the big and final cue, “GO!!”, and I somehow dug up enough courage to go against every natural instinct I had, and Paul and I rolled forward out of the plane, just as we were supposed to do.
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In an instant, I felt the most disoriented sensation I’ve ever experienced—as my body tumbled every which way through the air. I let out some sort of soulfully gratifying primal scream, and a few seconds later, the absurd and wonderful chaos soon tapered off, as Paul spread out his arms and legs to stabilize us. I spread my arms and legs out as Paul did, and we continued to fall in this position, with our bodies parallel to the ground, for about 60 seconds. I could feel the rush of the air peeling the skin on my face back. The noises were so loud they all seemed to blend together, to the point that it actually seemed quiet. And shockingly, I no longer had one ounce of fear—all I felt was pure joy.
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YEEEEEE-HAAAA!!!

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Paul temporally brought me back to reality when he put his wristwatch like altimeter in front of my face. The altimeter is used to determine the distance from the ground, and his was showing that we were less than 5500 feet away, which meant that it was time to open our parachute. I quickly reached down to my right hip and pulled the ripcord. The parachute opened properly and our bodies got jolted a bit, as the speed in which we were falling was suddenly greatly reduced. We would spend the next 5 minutes in what I would describe as “a taste of heaven”. My body was so electrified from the excitement of the mile-long freefall that it made this drastically contrasting — slow, scenic, and gloriously peaceful parachute descent — feel incredibly euphoric.

As we approached the ground, Paul instructed me to lift my legs and extend them out in front of me. He had total control of our chute, and we came to a soft and seated landing in a grassy field. I was glowing inside like a Griswold Christmas display! I thanked Paul over and over again as he disconnected our harness and parachute, and I was so excited that I just kept mumbling random incoherent things! I then looked to the sky and got to see my uncle’s final descent . . .
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He came to a soft textbook landing about sixty feet in front of me and looked as happy as I’d ever seen him. We gave each other a big hug, joined our awaiting family, and tried to make some sense out of the amazing event that just occurred.
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As I look back on my skydiving experience, I see many things that remind me of my grieving journey. Both were extreme situations, filled with incredibly intense moments that led to emotions of all kinds. Both were managed by my ability to connect with all the hope and love that surround me. Both were made more enjoyable by seeking out the fun in the situation.

In the case of skydiving, Paul is a master of seeking out the fun. He is able to do a scary thing, over-and-over again, because he finds the fun in the experience. Framing the experience as fun in his mind allows him to not only tolerate the experience, but to make it so enjoyable that he wants to repeat it over and over again. This speaks volumes to me in the power of “finding the fun”.

 

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Closing Thoughts
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I’m seeing that there’s something fun and exciting in everything, even grieving. At the very least, this can come in the form of figuring out how to become friendly with my present moment, and the excitement that is felt as I rise above whatever challenges I’m facing.

One of the reasons I believe any tough situation can be experienced as enjoyable is because it involves being creative. And as with painting, playing an instrument, drawing, dancing, singing, writing—or any other activity of this kind—being creative is fun because it involves making something good out of pieces and parts.
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Love Will Find A Way

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“Continue to strive for your dreams and they will come true.”
“Live well, Laugh often, Love much.”
Julie S. Vaiksnoras (1976-2004)
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“Shine On.”
 Eric Vaiksnoras (1973-    )

 

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Honey,  I Shrunk The Grief.
                 ♥ ♥ ♥

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