Grieving, Super Heroes, & Obama

"Seize the day, boys,
Make your lives extraordinary"
-Dead Poets Society

For serious, Dead Poets Society appeals to any budding queen in his teenage years- what could be better than a bunch of men sittin' round a cave reading poetry to each other?!? Just add a sauna with some towels and we are in business! (I'm such a poser, that doesn't actually appeal to me at all ... I think ...)

Today I was looking through some pictures of Obama and his family on election night (click) and I delighted in the fly-on-the-wall candidness of the photographs. Here is a family just like the millions of others across the world, and yet a family that is so completely extraordinary in the most fantastic way imaginable.

Obama reminds me of Superman in these photos ... one minute your average man, the next minute a superhero. And only he decides when it's his moment to shine. It was humbling to watch him sitting so serenely on a hotel room couch, the direction of his life guided only by the glow of a TV screen. And it seemed, regardless of the outcome, that he and his family knew that they would be alright.

But Obama is not unique in his ability to change from average-Joe to renowned-hero ... we all have a Batman or WonderWoman lurking just below the surface, and we can show our extraordinary sides even when everything seems to be Gotham-y (Gotham separated is 'got' + 'ham', that's weird).

Losing my mom has been very Got-ham-like for my entire family, and with only 3 months into this race we are not out of the woods yet. In fact, it really is like a hurdling race; some obstacles you clear without a scratch, and others, while presumptuously just like the rest of the hurdles, bring you crashing down. Only the clock never stops ticking, and you have to get your momentum back quick to clear the next challenge.

But in my immediate family I can already see the superheroes struggling to the surface. My dad is still going to choir practice faithfully, and he is even considering buying some cologne (which he hasn't worn in years because it always effected my mom). My sister has uprooted herself and replanted in Atlanta, surrounding herself with close friends and a solid support structure.

And while the finish line of this race doesn't even exist, at least we are all still on the track together ... with plenty of friends on the sidelines cheering, first-aid kits ready and all.

As for me, I'm still looking for my inner extraordinary, my personal SpiderMan or Storm or Wolverine. All that seems to pop up is the Joker, as I try to laugh my worries all the way to the bat cave.

Maybe I should sit quietly, like Obama, and stare at the TV watching my life unfold before me. Patient, reserved, and comforted by the knowledge that no matter what happens ... everything will be alright.