Cosmic Egg (Carrie Elkin)

When last we left our SheRa, we were going to Sunday brunch at Nancy's, which of course was absolutely lovely.  By that time, we were a Party o' 15 or so, much more intimate such that we could all engage in one conversation, vs. many little side-talks.  Nice.  One topic of the day was reconciliations, and we heard about one in progress, and another that had happened years ago, at Eric's urging, actually.  The ripple effect continues.

When we left, some people headed to the airport, and others on the road home, and Chico and I headed back to the condo and, as promised, Linda with us.  She and I went out to dinner at E's favorite restaurant (which I discovered after I read Crying in H Mart), and we both had veggie bibimbap, which Linda very much enjoyed, and then we went to bed early.

Monday was very low-key, and we spent many hours on the balcony, talking and crying, and enjoying the cooler-than-usual temps.  We had the great pleasure of picking Colin up from Kindergarten about 2:45, whereupon he ran around and played soccer with his usual group of friends, shaking their sillies out for another hour, then segueing to Sarah's.

The plan that evening was to recreate our Joni Jam experience at The Gorge in Washington State, and the first order of business was making Wachos (which we had the night of the concert) for dinner.  They were even better the second time around!  I had thought we'd have to piece together individual YouTube videos, figuring out the chronology but darned if we didn't find the full concert, start-to-finish and, because Sarah was tired, we watched about 1/3 of it there and the remainder when we got back to my place.  So very amazing to see it again.  Yep, we were "a fallen constellation" indeed... 🌠

Tuesday found us with a To Do List, the main one being to head to the Hope Garden, whereupon we would plant some Blood Lily bulbs that Linda had brought from her yard, in Eric's memory.  We found the perfect spot in the Perennial Garden, and I will provide an unassuming plaque or marker to designate the spot as sacred ground.

Then on to Parlour Vegan (I remembered I still had a giftcard from Nancy for my August birthday!), and we purchased a variety of empanadas, a "pepperoni" pesto pasta salad for dinner, and a few cupcakes (yum to them all... 😋)

Before indulging, though, Linda helped me transplant all the greenery in what I *thought* was an artificial arrangement basket into window boxes and pots for my catwalk and balcony.  We also planted the remaining blood lily bulbs into pots for me and Chico... Sarah... and Rob. 

Linda left for airport at 5 this morning, and Chico and I walked her downstairs to her car.  We all cried.  Today has been Stay-In-My-Nightgown-All-Day Day.  Well-deserved.  Sad.  Tired.  

P.S.  As I stated above, I was on the balcony for hours Monday morning, I went inside for a few minutes and, when I came back outside, what song do you think was playing on the soundsystem down by the pool?  Three Little Birds... 🐦🐦🐦 I hollered for Linda to come out and listen, to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.  Yet another visitation.  Hi, E... 💖

SONG:  Cosmic Egg by Carrie Elkin

BOOK:  One Thousand Days and One Cup of Tea: A Clinical Psychologist's Experience of Grief by Vanessa Moore

POEM:  A Bowl of Hydrangeas by James Crews

I stand at the sun-struck window

for several minutes longer than I wish,

until I see how the hydrangeas seem

to absorb the light and give it back,

even when cut from the living plant

on which they first came into bloom.

We are like this too in our grief—

separated from loved ones, stunned

and confused, yet glowing with some

new kinship to all things, including

this cluster of pink and white flowers

I reach out and touch, rubbing petals

between my fingers to remember

I have a body, I am still so alive.

QUOTE(S):  ““If happiness is a skill, then sadness is, too. Perhaps through all those years at school, or perhaps through other terrors, we are taught to ignore sadness, to stuff it down into our satchels and pretend it isn’t there. As adults, we often have to learn to hear the clarity of its call. That is wintering. It is the active acceptance of sadness. It is the practice of allowing ourselves to feel it as a need. It is the courage to stare down the worst parts of our experience and to commit to healing them the best we can. Wintering is a moment of intuition, our true needs felt keenly as a knife.” ~ Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

“We have a tendency to think in terms of doing and not in terms of being. We think that when we are not doing anything, we are wasting our time. But that is not true. Our time is first of all for us to be. To be what? To be alive, to be peaceful, to be joyful, to be loving. And that is what the world needs most.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh