Shortly after Dad’s injury, SNOBFOB took me to lunch, to guide my entry into the “new normal” of my family responsibilities.  She ever so gently (ok, Jewish-gently) inducted me into the club of people with dead and dying parents.  It was also a little like when your mom talked to you about the joys of tampons.  You knew you needed the information but you really wished you weren’t old enough for the conversation.

SNOBFOB set about to prepare me for the ups-and-downs, the despair and the acceptance.  The rollercoaster.  As only someone who has lived this can.

In the months since, SNOBFOB has tried to help me see what is doable (and the best way) and what is not doable.  What is and IS NOT my responsibility.  What I can and CANNOT change.  I am not always good at setting limits.

So, just yesterday, over lunch, SNOBFOB hit me with a whopping reality check:  I do not need to take on every enfeebled family member’s problems and still I can keep my promises to Mom and Grandpa. I know what SNOBFOB did for her parents and aunts and uncles.  She can tell me to slow down or “chill” or stop being so damn depressing.  It was so incredibly LIBERATING.  Because Dad I can handle, but . . . .

Today, SOB and I were reviewing the past week’s worth of Dad-related snafus, bizarre behaviors and tense moments.   And, the tone of our conversation was, well, (new) normal. 

The new normal is getting to be ok.  Not great, but ok.  And I can even laugh and have fun during the ups-and-downs.  In fact, the laughs and the fun are much more important now.  Precisely, because life is a roller-coaster. 

Thank you, SNOBFOB, my very wise friend.