With a Heavy Heart

Today my heart is heavy. I mean really heavy. It's as though the blood and anger have been drained and replaced by some heavy cold metal.

After THE BIG MEETING yesterday, I totally understand how a leader in a country with a parliamentary system feels when he or she loses a vote of confidence. It's this feeling of total rejection, where you continue to ask yourself, "Why didn't they believe in me?"

It's interesting that until the moment of truth yesterday, I had a small hope that the two bosses would finally say something to the effect of: "We now get what you've been saying. You have our full support. Go back and do your job." But instead, it was obvious to me that the decision had already been made prior to my meeting. They continued to say: "We agree with much of what you are saying, but we are still choosing to do this other thing. We also acknowledge that you have been quite unfairly treated by these other people, but there's nothing at all that we can do about it." At which point, I found myself wondering why in the world I would want to work for people with this mentality under any circumstance.

I left work yesterday in somewhat of a blur. Fortunately I was on my way to play duets with Deborah. What better medicine to clear my mind and put things in perspective!

Deborah and I had an interesting discussion about retirement. Whereas I was eligible to retire with full benefits at age 55 with 25 years of service, her retirement is totally up to her. As a physician, her plan is one she has to create for herself. She can't really contemplate retirement until age 65. This makes my current situation rather enviable from her point of view.

We spent a productive hour working on the JC Bach Adagio for piano and double bass. It seemed appropriate that it was in a minor key. It was never more beautiful than yesterday. As I played I recognized that retirement will give me an opportunity to play more and more music with Deborah and with others.

For people with no life outside the office, retirement is like a death sentence, the beginning of the end. For me, however, it can be a reaffirming life sentence, the beginning of a new era in my life that is overflowing with exciting things to do.

Over the next few weeks, I hope to get a transfusion of new blood that will revitalize my heavy heart, that will replace the solid metal with something that affirms the meaning of the rest of my life.