As a Catholic, I have spent a decent amount of time kneeling and saying The Rosary. We most often say The Rosary during times of mourning and hold a ceremony prior to the Funeral Mass actually called a Rosary. One day my uncle and I were talking about this whole thing and I sort of wondered aloud why we say The Rosary at someone’s funeral, although I assumed it was to bless their soul. On the contrary, however… my uncle explained that the recitation is for those in mourning, because there is great comfort to be found in the repetition of something familiar, and that totally made sense to me.
A couple of months ago, my sweetie, my caddy, found himself in a set of circumstances which eventually lead to him moving a few states away from me… yes, really. As the situation unfolded it was like the plot of a movie that you totally loved until the writers decided the movie needed some conflict. Well maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty happy without conflict. So, after many sleepless nights and water hazards full of tears, my caddy was on his long drive, and this was one hell of a par 5.
Initially I couldn’t even look at my clubs without bawling my mascara off, nor could I drive past a golf course without feeling acid reflux. What is a girl to do without someone to double check her read before she putts? Sigh… you just have to replace the flag, grab your clubs and walk to the next tee box.
It took some time, but finally I just had to get back up on that tee. I went to the range, and as I walked that familiar walk, without my hand warmly enveloped by his, my heart ached and I felt like my bag had bricks in the bottom of it. I went upstairs so I could be as alone as possible, got my bucket and got ready to swing. The lump in my throat was the size of Gertie and with every swing I could hear my caddy’s voice in my head “you pulled it inside”, “better”, “swing easy”. Yep, it was KILLING me, and even recounting it now is bringing tightness to my chest. But I persevered: cleared my mind, and not worrying about where I hit, I just started swinging. Nice, easy strokes with a nice easy tempo… and in that space of repetition, fluidity of motion, without thinking about what I was doing or anything else… I found comfort (if only for that moment).
Amidst this discourse, I also began a new professional journey which I’m loving. This new situation has given me something to focus upon and a definite distraction from the feeling that I am a yin, sans yang. I couldn’t help but notice (ok and yes, feel that it is more than a tad unfair) that when one area of my life is going really well, another seems to tank. It’s like, why is it that when your drives are long and straight and your chips hit the middle of the green; you can’t sink a 6” putt? A winning streak doesn't last forever... but then neither does a losing.
Playing golf is much better with a caddy… it’s nice to have someone to have your back, to help make sure you don’t choose the wrong club or putt the wrong line, someone to carry your bag. Although it is reassuring to know that someone is watching where your ball landed, it isn’t impossible to do it alone. I am however, reassured by the fact that this situation will not last forever... does anything? So for now, I’m taking some lessons, learning some lessons and setting up my swing one shot at a time.
Golfer: "This golf is a funny game."
Caddy: "It's not supposed to be."