“Each time my feet touched the earth I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine, but a living continuation of my mother and my father and my grandparents and great-grandparents; Of all my ancestors. Those feet that I saw as ‘my’ feet were actually ‘our’ feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprints in the damp soil.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh from No Death, No Fear
My daughter worked in the marketing department of a local company for the past three years. There were months in there where she was the entire marketing department all by herself. They loved her. She received great evaluations and several raises over the years. Then they hired a new manager who decided to change things up. He fired her. (He fired a few other people too but I’m not their mother and this story is about my girl.)
This was the first time she was ever fired from a job. She was so hurt and angry. They didn’t even give her a reason, which they don’t have to, but it would have at least helped her make sense of it. Life is like that though. Shitty things happen and you don’t always know why. It’s difficult watching your children go through life’s hard times.
She took a day to regroup and then set about finding a new job. We live in the Lower Hudson Valley and a lot of people here commute into New York City for work. It would be soul crushing for her to have to do that but we both knew if there were no bites locally she would. To help her out I did some road opening work on her behalf. She found lots of local jobs to apply to but no one was biting. After a month of this I decided to call in the big guns. I asked my dad for help.
My father was a corporate headhunter. He had spent his whole career in personnel work of one kind or another. He wrote amazing resumes and helped a few of my friends find work when they found themselves unemployed. He would have been thrilled to help her navigate the waters of job hunting. I really wish I could have just picked up the phone or had her call him, but he died in 2012. A phone wasn’t going to work.
In my home I have a nice bookcase full of books and family photos. If you were to visit me you wouldn’t think you were looking at my ancestor altar. But you would be. I know the names of many of my people on my father’s side going back about two hundred years. On my mother’s side I know less. I have photos of my grandparents, one set of great grandparents, and even one set of great-great grandparents. They sacrificed a lot so I could be here today. I thank them for that on a regular basis. On a recent day I asked them for help. I asked on behalf of my daughter, who is their child too. I asked them to help her by lining up the opportunities she needed. She would do all the mundane work. I had a conversation with them like I would have if I could have phoned them. They were told the finer details of the situation and how it fit into modern life and her life. I asked my dad specifically for whatever help he could give her. He understood the finer points of personnel and hiring better than any of the rest.
The next morning she called me. She had an interview. A resume she sent out nearly two months ago landed on the right desk and they were excited to talk to her. The job was perfect for her and by the end of the week they offered it to her. It was more money than she was making at the previous place and the commute was the same. She was overjoyed and so were we.
Family is family whether they are here or passed on. They are ours and we are theirs. The ancestors are the suffering, wisdom, and love of generations of our family. Thanking them for making your life possible and occasionally asking the loving members for guidance and help is a way to honor them. We are the family they built. We are blood of their blood and bone of their bone. We are the result of their love and their sacrifices, and they are our allies.