https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/30/us/politics/george-hw-bush-dies.html?action=click&module=Spotlight&pgtype=Homepage
President Bush was a single term president, serving from 1989 - 1993. He was popular, immensely so after the success of he first Gulf War, then almost suddenly, he wasn't popular. In the presidential campaign he eventually lost to Bill Clinton in 1992, he appeared disconnected and out of touch with the problems every day people faced as a result of the recession.
Above all, though, President Bush was a good man. A family man and a patriot. A man who served the country in one capacity or another for 40 years. His death makes me sad and I've been wondering why.
I voted for President Bush when he ran against Michael Dukakis in 1988. This, in spite of the fact that a few of my fraternity brothers called me Michael Dukakis during the campaign after noticing that my eyebrows resembled those of Mr. Dukakis. That's a fun fact, for sure. I'm smiling now as I remember my friend and fellow fraternity president, Goat Neal, pointing at me in the hall of the fraternity house and yelling, "Michael Dukakis!!" I saw him at a Predators' game the other night and, as always, he brought a smile to my face. I digress.
I was 22 years old when during that presidential campaign. I was finishing my final semester of college in Knoxville, living in the fraternity house, coasting though the two or maybe three classes I needed to graduate. It was an innocent and fun time in my life. I quite literally had my whole life in front of me. As I recall, I had a job in sale with Wallace Computer Services lined up in Nashville. I was still dating my longtime college girlfriend, Jenny DeWitt, graduated that fall with me, I believe. I assume we would get married at some point in the near future and raise a family together in suburban Roanoke, Virginia (her hometown) or in Brentwood (my home town).
30 years later, I find myself living in a thriving neighborhood near downtown Nashville as a 52 year old father of two boys, 6 and 10. In my 22 year old mind, I thought Jenny and I would have four or five kids. I also thought by age 52, all of my kids would be out of college or, at worst, finishing college.
Man plans. God laughs. Right?
So, I find myself this morning at 52, thinking about my 22 year old self. Idealistic and naive. Supremely confident. Probably overconfident. Immortal, for sure, and unbowed and unbroken by life's travails. Blessed with a youth that I thought would last forever. Blissfully unaware that there were hard times ahead, for me and for my family. Good times, too, to be sure, and many of those. but hard times, as well.
At 22, I couldn't possibly imagine what it would feel like to be 52.
I also couldn't imaging that Jenny and I would break up, reunite briefly a year or so later, then end our relationship for good. First, she would break my heart, then I would break hers, not out of ill intent or maliciousness, but because that's the way life goes. I couldn't imagine, then, that I would find myself in law school in Knoxville in the fall of 1990. I couldn't imagine that I would meet my future wife in law school or that Anne and I would later divorce after a few years together. I couldn't imagine how heartbroken I would feel in late 1997 and early 1998.
I also couldn't imagine, at age 22, that I would meet Jude and that we would get married in February 2003. And, without question, I couldn't imagine the pure, unadulterated wonder and joy I would feel when I held J.P. for the first time on March 28, 2008, and that I would feel the same way when I held Joe for the first time in February 20, 2012.
And, of course, I couldn't imagine - at age 22 - what it would feel like to be sitting at Portland Brew in 12South, sipping a cup of coffee and gathering the mental and emotional strength and energy to go visit my mom in the memory care unit of an assisted living facility. I couldn't - and wouldn't - have imagined that my mom, the rock of my life and my biggest supporter and best friend for as long as I can remember, would be reduced to a shell of herself at age 78. I couldn't have imagined that she would be confined to a wheelchair and unable to carry on a coherent conversation with me. I couldn't have imagined that the very light that is her personality - her soul - would grow dim and that I could do nothing to prevent it from happening.
President Bush said goodbye to those he loved the most. I'm glad it worked out that way.
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/01/us/politics/george-hw-bush-last-days.html?action=click&module=Spotlight&pgtype=Homepage
Our situation is different with my mom. Sometimes I feel like we didn't really get to say goodbye, or, alternatively, that we're saying goodbye a little bit at a time, every day and every week.
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