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 This is a little more light-hearted and a little less heady. This is a story of how I almost became a spy. 

A little piece about me is that I have always had a difficult time finding work. I was never really sure why that was the case. I tried for applying for every job I could find. One of these jobs was for the Canadian Securities and Intelligence Service (CSIS) as an intelligence officer. What was an intelligence officer? Dont know. That didn't really matter. I was going to become a spy. I forwarded my resume to the website and then waited. 

I was in my friends office at my old college when my cell rang. I looked on my phone and the call display read "number withheld." I never saw that before and have never seen that since. On the other end of the line a polite lady introduced herself as belonging to CSIS. She said they had read my resume and would like to do an interview with me. They told me they wanted to speak to me on a "secure line"....I had no idea what that was. They then explained it was a LAN line. I thought of my aunt, who was the only person I knew who still had a LAN line and I scheduled the interview. 

The day came for the interview. The phone rang at the exact time. I picked it up and began the process of an interview. After the initial pleasantries, they asked me how they felt I would fit in this job. I asked them if they could tell me more about it. "Not at this time," was the response. So, having no knowledge of the job, I yakked until the circumstance had run its course. They hung up after a few more minutes. The whole process might have lasted about 10 minutes. A few weeks later, I received a brown manilla envelope with my address typed on it. I opened it up and on it was the official seal of CSIS and it read essentially "good luck in your future endeavours."   

The reality of being a part of spy agency was likely not all that interesting. I think I probably came about as close as I really would have liked to being a spy. Having said all that, my brief interaction with the national spy apparatus of my country had just enough of the trappings of story to be amazingly satisfying and to give me an entertaining story that I use often to amuse others.

Just when you thought we were done

I lost my Dad at 16. Since then I have come to notice some striking similarities that come with grief. Its a little bit like cars. There are some differences, but its a basic category that everyone shares an identity. As time has gone by I have taken the opportunity to opine to people in the midst of grief and they seem to have found it helpful. Grief is isolating and reaching into that isolation can be helpful. I found it particularly so when I lost my Dad. I have contemplated the effects of his lost for 26 years and I thought I understood the subject, but as Mike Tyson once said, "everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face."

On October 20 we went to my parents house. My step-dad was breathing quite heavily. After dinner he went into his chair and immediately went to sleep-a very unusual act. Early the next week we found out he had been brought to the hospital. A week later (October 30) he was gone. This is an oversimplification of the timeline. My step-father had been in my life for 20 years. He was there longer than my father was. He was very much part of my family we feel his loss. 

Whats interesting about his loss is he had all the hallmarks of what would be considered a "good end." He did not have a long protracted illness, but it was long enough that we could say goodbye. He had a bad heart, bad lungs and he was brain damaged. He lived with some deep and profound challenges and lamented his life. He lived in particular anguish and resentment that he could not contribute. He was a delightful man, but was challenging to love. Based on all the markings you might look at the situation and think "how are you even upset about this." 

I think this situation touches on a more fundamental piece of grief. In addition to the sense of sadness for the absence of a person, there is another feeling I think and that is resentment. There is a fundamental resentment that this person can only be found in your memory. There is no future with this person. Only past. It is the part of emotion similar to having something stolen from you. Resentment is the part of the grief a person can move past, but it is definitely present in all grief on some level. Even with someone like my step-father, the knowledge that he I wont see him smile at me again or say something nice to me is a loss. It is a cold world and I lament the loss of his warmth for me. He will live in stories, pictures and some video, but not where I have known him to me. 

I remember this feeling clearly when my biological father died. How many times I heard, "he's in a better place" and how many times those words made me angry. It's strange to think that there is a component of self-interest in grief. Grief is my loss. I suppose that's one of the reasons people have such a hard time dealing with grief because it is one of the more naked expressions of one self-interest. 

In a culture that is so "self" focused we really struggle with reaching into someones bubble. We insist that we have no obligation, but people being in grief present an obligation. We are obliged to extend our-self to that person so we find some platitude to fill the moment. We ignore it quick as a flash and endeavour to act the part of a normal conversation. We want to get back to dealing with our own universe and assume the grieved will figure it out. Yet grief endures. Struggles endure. The need to let go of yourself and care for others has never been greater in the world we dwell. Whether people are in grief or not, if you dont believe you have any obligation to anyone then no one has an obligation to you. If people in times of trouble dont require your attention then you are entitled to none. The simple reality is that this is no sustainable. This is anarchy. A better society is built if we believe we have an obligation to the long term well being of those around us.