For the last few days I have been walking around feeling like there is a great weight on me ready to fall at any moment. Getting things done has been a chore. Making plans beyond the next day has taken all my willpower away. It feels like my life is on hold and I’m just waiting.

The waiting part is true and there’s not much you can do about it. But the waiting part of life is my doing and there’s a lot I can do about it.

You see, my wife is in Nashville with her dying father. He was released from the hospital on Friday and is now receiving hospice care at home. (http://www.hospicenet.org/html/faq.html This is a wonderful site full of great information on end-of-life care) Melissa is there with her sister, her stepmother and others to provide comfort and be there. to help him through this transition to the other world.

Melissa was there for a week, came back last Tuesday, and then on Thursday she got the news that her father had taken a turn for the worse. She dropped everything, turned around, and flew back there.

It’s amazing how the two little words “any day” spoken by a doctor can create a sense of urgency in those close to whom those words are spoken. In a very powerful way, too, those words provide a certain freedom, permission to step back from the responsibilities of daily life and attend to the deep and transformative issues that arise around the end of a life.

I can feel the relief in my wife when we talk. There is a lightness in her voice, a clarity that seems to come from this letting go. Her willingness to put aside the responsibilities she has here in order to be there with her father and her family has clearly been good for her. The opportunities she has had to connect with her father during this powerful time of transition have brought them closer than ever. And her ability to acknowledge and share her grief and sadness within the supportive environment of her family has had a cleansing effect on her.

While she goes through this powerful process down there, I am here with Ella, feeling disconnected, not knowing my role and more than a little helpless. How can I support Melissa while she is in Nashville?

I understand that, from a practical point of view, staying here and taking care of Ella is the best support I can provide. She gives Melissa the chance to be there with her family. But that hasn’t made it any easier to be so far away.

This disconnection and helplessness is also permeating the rest of my life. How do I plan beyond today? Do I need to make childcare arrangements for the evenings I teach? How about the Saturday Law of Attraction group? Do I have to get coverage for that? What about my Friday morning meetings?

She and I are flying to Nashville for the funeral. But when will that be? This day? Morning? In three weeks? Every time Melissa calls, I think, “This is it.” And every time I call her and she doesn’t answer, that same thought goes through my head. I can assure you that this type of thinking does not lead to a focused and productive work life!

In moments of clarity, I recognize this moment as a powerful challenge and an opportunity to be more present in my life. And with clarity come questions. Good questions that can lead me to a fuller presence. These are just some of the questions that are emerging.

Can I go on with my life knowing that, at any moment, they will call me?

Can I let go of the image I have of “support” and trust that my ability to be here with Ella is the most powerful support I can offer?

Can I recognize and take care of my own needs during this time?

Can I find the words to speak clearly with Ella about what is happening?

When I take a step back from everything that is happening and get some perspective, I really see the blessing of this time. It is so easy to put life on hold, to wait for some momentous event -or not so momentous- to move on. I’ve seen it in myself and my clients: We look forward to hearing about a job we’ve applied for. We look forward to hearing if an article has been accepted. We hope to know if someone we like wants to go on a date with us. We expect a check in the mail. We await a phone call. We wait…

How often do we put our lives on hold waiting for some external circumstance to resolve itself?

Most of the time, this waiting, this clinging, is so subtle that we don’t even notice it. In this case it has been anything but subtle. This well-defined feeling of paralysis has given me the opportunity to explore that place of contention. Now I am aware of it, aware, and so I can choose how to proceed. I can claim full responsibility for my actions, or lack of actions.

That is both the beauty and the curse of self-awareness: as your awareness expands, so does the level of responsibility you must take for your life. I choose to take full responsibility for this moment in my life. Will I step forward, as Thoreau says, confidently in the direction of my dreams, knowing that my progress may be interrupted at any moment? Or will I continue to play with my thumbs, hoping that all the lights on the road in front of me turn green?

The choice is mine. And at all times I will continue to make the best possible choice. Because that’s all I can do.