Summer of Solidarity

A week and a half ago my ward volleyball team had its first match. I was nervous stepping onto the sand volleyball court because the other team had seven players and we only had four. We won our first match and changed sides to play the second. I tend to talk a lot when I’m playing sports and for some reason I blurted out the words, “Solidarity, people. Solidarity.” We went on to win the set but something kept bugging me. I didn’t know exactly what the word solidarity meant. I know I use words incorrectly quite often so I looked up the definition of solidarity the next day. Dictionary.com’s definition reads, “Union or fellowship arising from common responsibilities and interests...” I was relieved to find I had used the word correctly even if it was just an accident. The words “Summer of Solidarity” had already been echoing in my head and I was dying to open a new Word document and start writing this blog but the week was quickly swept away in a social tidal wave. I have since gone on vacation, gotten some perspective, reunited with my friends, and caught up on the latest Facebook action. I am hereby ready to blog to my heart’s content.

366 days ago I created this blog. I began a tradition of creating themes for each season by accident. I was feeling pretty cynical last summer so I deemed it “The Summer of No Expectations.” I was reaching for a carefree attitude in which I would simply socialize and have fun without expecting anything tangible to come out of it (like a relationship). While I gave it my best effort there was still something lacking. I pretended not to care about my lack of a significant other but it was all a façade. I spent a lot of time fooling myself and skipping along the surface of relationships without allowing myself to plummet to dark, unknown depths. In short, I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. It is hard for me to maintain friendships on a surface level and I only do so in the most fleeting of circumstances. Otherwise I feel like I’m missing out on getting to know someone great.

This rule holds true for every general area of my life except for the workplace. I always feel like I have to filter how much personal information I exchange at work. I find myself thinking, “Is this appropriate to share?” I think it’s part of being a young professional and finding my footing in an always-changing landscape. When Adobe announced its intention to acquire Omniture in September 2009 I was scared out of my mind. I thought for sure I was going to lose my job. I wasn’t doing anything wrong but I was convinced I wouldn’t be found suitable for employment at Adobe. Everyone at Omniture had to hold tight for six weeks for the deal to go through before we found out if we were keeping our jobs. We were told 9-10% of our company would be laid off. Basically my chances were great but I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until October 26^th. My boss informed me I’d be staying on with the company and I was very excited. I helped the events team set up a big informative meeting a few days later. My coworker Brent, who was in charge of the events team, asked me to help him form an iTunes playlist for the meeting. We scanned his music and he spotted “Come Together” by The Beatles and he couldn’t help but add it to the list. As it boomed in the empty auditorium and hundreds of employees came flooding in for the meeting one of our colleagues came in with a cheeky grin on his face. He acknowledged the music playing and said, “Really, Brent? Really?” It was a funny moment.

I was able to work with Brent on projects here and there. I noticed he was gone a lot and early the next year I saw that he was growing a beard. Out of nowhere my boss told me that Brent was growing a beard to hide the marks he was getting from chemotherapy. When she saw the look of shock on my face she caught me up on the story. Brent had some sharp pain a few weeks before and went to the hospital to be checked out. The doctors found a mass on his kidney and he went in for emergency surgery to have the entire organ removed. He began an aggressive chemotherapy treatment plan and all this happened while he was planning our biggest company event of the year – Summit 2010. He was in the office as much as possible and cheerful as ever. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until one day I went into my boss’s office and she was very quiet. With tears in her eyes she said, “Brent’s not doing well.” He was in the ICU fighting for his life. Two weeks later he was gone. Walter Brent Pribil, a loving husband and amazing father of three was suddenly gone. I had met his wife, I had spoken Portuguese with her, I had laughed with her and in a moment I knew she would be forever changed by this loss.

Seven days later, on February 23, 2010, I attended Brent’s funeral service. I rode with some coworkers and remember laughing one minute and crying the next. The pre-funeral tension was welling up inside me. It had been a while since I’d been to a funeral and dread threatened to overwhelm me. However, the second I stepped inside the building and saw the beautiful life story display in the foyer I felt a smile light up inside of me. Brent was so special – his interests were all over the map. The chapel was full and there were chairs lined up in an overflow that covered the entire gymnasium. Brent was so loved and that feeling emanated the entire room. I found a seat at the back of the gym and noticed I was surrounded by my coworkers. I looked at all of the familiar faces and never thought I’d see all of us under once church roof at the same time. Though we came from many different backgrounds and still hold many different religious views we had all come together for Brent and his family. I kept the tears at bay during the prelude until Brent’s casket was wheeled in and I glimpsed his family following behind. The kids were so young and his dear wife was in deep grief. I had never lost either of my parents or my spouse and I wondered how a family could ever pick itself back up after something like this. Little did I know I would soon find out.

As the funeral service progressed I found out truly wonderful things about Brent. Here I had assumed he was a nice, average, middle-aged guy who had married a gorgeous Brazilian woman and probably had some nice, average kids. There is nothing average about the Pribil family. “Nice” couldn’t possibly describe the charitable nature and constant thirst for knowledge that compelled Brent to be the best person he could possibly be. He wasn’t afraid of asking the hard questions and he was always refining his wealth of knowledge. He studied the scriptures more than anyone I personally know. He was simply destined for greatness and as his son gave an extraordinary talk I knew he and Beth had firmly planted their family on the path to eternal happiness. Not a day would go by when Brent wouldn’t be missed. Not a day would go by that this family wouldn’t be truly blessed.

As I left the funeral and blindly searched for my carpool group through tear-blurred eyes I couldn’t help but shake my head and wonder how I had let myself miss out on getting to know such a great person. I resolved to be better but I admit my desire for self-improvement constantly fluctuates. Many times I’m alright with standing in stagnant waters instead of swimming upstream or braving crushing waterfalls. There are times, like in February 2010, when my path is not chosen for me. The events that unfold flood my world and force me to break through my carefully placed ceiling meant to shield me from the flowing waters above. I would not dread the journey so much if the rivers weren’t salty with tears. In the darkest times I am convinced that nothing matters besides my own comfort and the taste of my own tears. When I see others suffer and am forced to stand under the storm of others’ tears I realize there is no healing except with love and service, compassion and unity.

Brent’s brief battle with cancer was the beginning of a series of events that rapidly unfolded in the first half of 2010. It opened my heart and allowed me to be vulnerable and empathetic for the other losses that would soon follow. Brent changed my heart even though we were separated by mortality. As the next few months unraveled in a whirlpool of bottomless grief I was comforted knowing that families are forever. The shining example of the Pribil family was my light at the end of the tunnel. They would survive, and therefore so could I.

Looking back on what I’ve written tonight I seem to have taken a drastic turn from a light-hearted volleyball match to the throes of mortality cut short. While these two things can’t seem more different I must say that anyone who has lived even a little probably knows that is how life is: a roller coaster. Or, to go along with the water metaphor, perhaps it is more appropriate to say that life is a white water rapid rafting trip. One second you’re elated and the next you’re underwater, fighting to find the surface. I’ve never been white water rafting but I can only assume there is one essential key to survival: teamwork and trust borne of unity. This summer I don’t want to just get by. I don’t want to coast. I don’t want to skip along. This summer I’m going deep. I’ll break the surface and build bonds that last. I will help people come together for that is what gives me joy. I won’t do this to say, “Hey look at me, I have so many friends,” or, “Hey look at me, I’m so darn social.” Instead I’ll say, “Hey looky here, I know some amazing people. Let me tell you all about them.”