I'll See You in My Dreams (Bruce Springsteen)

To tell you the truth, I am not a fan of the Happy Heavenly Birthday greeting.  After 12 years of parochial school and a lifetime of Catholic religious upbringing (until I went away to college), I question the whole Heaven/Hell/Purgatory/Limbo scenario.  No one really *knows*, anyway... but, if I had to choose, my sensibilities favor the kinder gentler reincarnation theory.  Keep learning and growing with each cycle, being given the opportunity to work our way (up or down) the logical consequence of Karma.  

But I digress.

Today would have been Eric's 37th birthday.  Impossible to believe he's been gone almost two years (9/26/23).  I miss him every day and yes, there are times I fully expect him to step back into my life like he's never been gone... which seems normal because we incorporate him into so many things we do and say on a daily basis (especially through Sarah's Colin, E's mini-me).

To reprise something I wrote about Eric almost 20 years ago:  "My pregnancy with him was... unexpected... and he truly is a chosen child - he's been such a blessing, responsible for my gray hair, but all my laugh lines too. He's stubborn, witty, disorganized, kind-hearted, a know-it-all, generous - I must admit, when I get the most frustrated with him, I realize I'm exactly the same way."... 🤣

His life was going in such a forward-moving direction.  He had gone back to college and gotten his Business Administration degree.  He'd been dating a wonderful young woman, and left South Florida in March 2023 to be with her in Atlanta (saving up for a ring).  Found a great job up there too, which suited and validated his skill set.  Then, in the blink of an eye... 💔

Aren't I wise to have scheduled my monthly therapy appointment today?

SONG:  I'll See You in My Dreams by Bruce Springsteen)

BOOK:  I'm Not a Mourning Person: Braving Loss, Grief, and the Big Messy Emotions That Happen When Life Falls Apart by Kris Carr

  

POEM(S):  Make a Wish by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

 for JS

No cake and no you.

Still, I light a candle

on your birthday

and notice the way

one small flame

changes the feel

of a whole room.

I think of your light

and how many

gather around it,

how quietly you invite

the shadows to dance,

how gently one person

can change the world.

Loving the Gone by Sara Rian

happy birthday

they may not be here

to age another day.

but today we celebrate

that earth once held them.

because on the day they were born

so was one of the greatest loves.

At the heart of all grief is this:

I miss you so much my bones ache.

How do I carry all this love alone.

Please stop being dead

and come back home to me.

~ Nikita Gill

Love Letter from the Afterlife by Andrea Gibson

My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living. Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?” In my back pocket is a love note with every word you wish you’d said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love you more for everything you feared might make me love you less. When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials. Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand. One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every morning. I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now making of your pain, your deep seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before.  Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise it’s the truth. I promise one day you will say it too– I can’t believe I ever thought I could lose you.

QUOTE(S):  "If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song." ~ Kahlil Gibran

"It's hard when you miss people.  But, you know, if you miss them it means you were lucky.  It means you had someone special in your life, someone worth missing." ~ Nathan Scott

"O Great Creator of Being, grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives." ~ Jim Morrison

Battle Hymn for an Army of Lovers (Crys Matthews)

Happy New Year!  

Forgive me, friends... for my lost concentration; it has been three months since my last blog post (channeling my inner rebellious Catholic schoolgirl).  No excuses, but valid reasons.  

At the one-year mark of Eric's passing, the tree dedication… part of me thought it would be tied up neatly with a bow, as we had cycled through all the Firsts (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Eric’s birthday, etc.).  Silly Me.  The holidays rolled around… again… and I realized the Seconds were just as hard.  I learned that, if decorating evokes pain, a holiday wreath and doormat will do (they did).  Maybe even a holiday mug.  Or not.  If traditions are triggering, I can make new ones.  Or not.  There is a fine line between remembering and suffering… and there is no timeline on healing.  Trying to (continue to) be gentle with myself.

I still have days when the thought of him makes my heart literally ache… when I can’t manage to get a deep breath… when I refuse to leave the comfort of my home.  I worry that I am developing a severe case of Agoraphobia, yet a few things motivate me:  Garden Day, dinner with a dear friend, a library run (ha!)... and others have me seriously weighing the options of many events which, in the past, would have me jumping at the opportunity.  sigh...

One tradition I hope to always follow through on (my first being January 2008):

Inspired by Beth Weaver-Kreider's poem below, as well as the powerful song by Crys Matthews, my Word(s) of the Year are (Love) Revolution, on a political level as well as in my personal interactions... 💥✌💜

We have less than a week until Inauguration Day (Monday January 20, 2025), and I am taking advantage of the calm before the storm, not naive enough to think there aren't many proposed changes on the horizon, most of them for the worst.  It is horrifying the nation chose Trump as our next/new leader (and when are we going to fix that broken Electoral College process?!?).

I am not one to finger-point nor name-call nor disparage, I very much subscribe to Lincoln's 1860 philosophy of “have faith that right makes might.", and I am fully prepared to do whatever it takes to fight back from a place of peaceful protest/non-violent demonstrations.  My days of standing on street corners and marching through the public streets are not over.  I even gave my daughter Sarah her own pussy hat for Christmas.  Love Revolution.  Both/And.  Just. Do. It... 💘

From Crys:

This was created from six very specific muses -- my mom, Michelle Obama, Nelson Mandela, Rita Mae Brown, Julia Ward Howe, and Eva Cassidy (via Curtis Mayfield.)

After the outcome of the 2016 election, I was floored. I am an out, black, lesbian woman living in the south (although, thankfully not in the 'deep' south). I was terrified, which made me angry. My mom reminded me that she has seen many presidents come and go in her lifetime and is still standing. Love and faith guide her and that, she reminded me, should guide me. 

"An army of lovers shall not fail" is a Rita Mae Brown quote that has come to mean a great deal to me. It's really just an amazingly beautiful sentiment that doesn't really need much context beyond that. 

"When they go low, we go high" as famously spoken by Michelle Obama has become my mantra going in to 2017 and will be something I will try every day to embody during the next four years. 

Nelson Mandela very eloquently said, “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” 

The song People Get Ready was written by Curtis Mayfield. Released in 1965, the song's meaning was amplified by the climate in America during the civil rights movement. Eva Cassidy's cover of it has always resonated with me. 

And last, but not least, which leads me to the title of the song... Julia Ward Howe is the woman who wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic (aka Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory). Later she was a suffragette. She wrote, "let us live to make men free". 

I thought, if these few principles could guide our government and our citizens we might all make it to 2020 in one piece (and maybe even in peace). And so, I give you my Battle Hymn for an Army of Lovers... 

v1. Change is coming once again,

except this time it feels like the world's about to end.

White-robed devil's in plain sight,

angry protests in the streets night after night,

and it weighs heavy on my mind.

Why are we so quick to run backwards after all this time?

But I won't let it change my heart.

I was born full of love and hope and, when I die, that's how I'll depart.

Ch. And when you find yourself 

incapable of seeing eye to eye

Remember: when they go low, 

we go high.

v2. Change is coming — that's for sure.

We gave a madman all the keys and let him walk right in the door. 

And I don't think he'll see the light,

until the whole world is on fire, but that's alright.

We will still be here when he's gone,

and if it doesn't kill us all, well it sure will make us strong.

Don't let four years change your heart!

We are not born hating each other -- now is not the time to start.

Ch. And when you find yourself 

incapable of seeing eye to eye

Remember: when they go low, 

we go high.

Bridge: There's a song penned for soldiers --

it says, "let us live to make men free."

We're all sisters.

We're all brothers.

Standing on each others' shoulders

there's no wall we cannot scale.

We are an army of lovers,

and we shall not fail.

Ch. So when you find yourself 

incapable of seeing eye to eye

Remember: when they go low, 

we go high.

SONG:  Battle Hymn for an Army of Lovers by Crys Matthews

BOOK:  See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love by Valarie Kaur

POEM(S):  Walking Through the Gateway of Another Year by Beth Weaver-Kreider

Let’s call them New Year’s Revolutions

or Re-Solutions

or Revelations

or Re-evaluations.

Change. Progress.

Uncovering. Assessing.

In the coming year, I resolve to re-solve

my problems and issues every day,

not just on this morning.

For every morning is the morning

of a whole new year,

a bright blank page

in which any thing

can be a new thing.

Let every moment be a moment like now,

when the newborn sun shines

over the ridge

onto the scarlet breast

of a cardinal,

and the eye

for a moment sees nothing

but sparkling red.

The Alternative New Year List by Dr. Lynne Sedgmore

Here Now

As you begin another year 

Pause

Remember 

Who it is your heart beats wildly for, and why

How lightness and joy fill every fibre of your being

How to laugh with no restraint 

How to serve those less fortunate

How to care for Mother Earth 

Here Now

As you begin another year 

Act

Tell everyone you love how beautiful they are 

Dance with bare feet and feel the wind upon your face

Find a friend and giggle together until it hurts

Give a random act of kindness to someone in struggle or loss

Find another way to combat climate change

Here Now

As you begin another year 

Self-care

See your own beauty and celebrate yourself 

Speak your gratitude for all the blessings you receive

Laugh out loud into a genuine belly laugh

Treat your body to a massage, tend to your own needs

Walk barefoot on the land feeling nature’s nourishment 

Here Now

As you begin another year 

Be 

Stop and stare, be still and listen every day

Enact an enlivening body prayer with gratitude and grace

Begin laugh yoga

Pray and light a candle for anyone in need

Live more in tune with nature’s beauty and Her beating heart

QUOTE(S):  "Most optimists are not born that way. They are created. When the world asked them to harden, they softened. When they experienced pain, they vowed not to give that pain to others. When they understood the lineage of trauma, they healed instead of continuing the pattern. Optimists are not people who have never had a hard day or a hard season or a collection of hard years. Optimists are those that have walked through the fire and decided that love, hope, resiliency, and compassion are lighter to carry. For most people, their optimism is hard-won. Fought for. An act of brave resistance in a harsh, demanding, chaotic world." ~ Jamie Varon

“Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” ~ Desmond Tutu

"Love is the most powerful force in the world. If people tell you that the opposite of love is fear, it is not so. Love just is. Love has no opposite. Remember that, dear one. Love has no opposite. Love just is. It is the answer to everything. Everything." ~ Dolores Cannon

"Truth and love have been smacked down, so many more times in history before today. Truth, because it’s often inconvenient, and love because it is vulnerable.

But truth is like gravity, and carbon, and the sun behind an eclipse: it’s still there. And love stays alive if you tend it like a flame. If you feel crushed by unkindness today, it’s a time for grieving, reaching out to loved ones, noticing one bright color somewhere in the day. Remembering what there is to love. Starting with the immediate, the place and people we can tend ourselves, and make safe. We can’t save everything all at once, but it’s still worth saving something. Because there are so many of us to do it.

And we are all still here today, exactly as we were yesterday. Like gravity, and carbon, and the sun behind an eclipse." ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Big Green Tree (Stan Ridgway)

A few months after Eric died (9/26/23), I reached out to The City of Pembroke Pines, inquiring about having a bench installed in his memory in a park in the neighborhood we lived almost 30 years;  they don't do that, they responded, but... they were on the cusp of making official a tree planting program, and would I please follow up in 2024?

I dropped the ball, for quite a while I confess... and reached back out only a few months before the one-year mark of Eric's passing, absolutely sure I had missed all the deadlines for whatever needed to be done.  Sweet Carol, who I had spoken to the first time around, took loving pity on me and expedited the sh*t out of the what-would-have-been-eight-weeks-and-actually-took-only-six-weeks process.  Tree planted, plaque installed, boom... 💥

We had six options, and the Japanese Fern Tree appealed to us immediately, the main reason being that it provided shade; it was also substantially bigger than we expected (probably also thanks to Carol).  It was just one more way to honor Eric, and we gathered together at the above-mentioned park yesterday for a tree dedication; I envisioned sweet, casual, fun, yummy food, socializing, brief speech, live music, rock painting (lather, rinse, repeat)... and great weather (which had been looking quite dour on WeatherBug the evening before).

It was a most perfect day, we had a lovely turn-out, and Eric would have been... is... proud... 💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning, everyone!  

We are obviously here because we loved Eric, and he loved us.  Or maybe some of you didn't know Eric (that's okay), and you love one of us (his family members, or his friends).  It really is all about love anyway, right?

I promised a *brief* tree dedication and, my god, I mean it.  There will be a poem, a few words, and another poem.  Voila!

After that, if anyone wants to stay in the circle and share a memory, you are welcome to do that.  If you want to step outside the circle and throw a Frisbee, that's perfectly fine too.

First Poem:  Light and Dark by James Crews

Half-awake, I lose myself in a pool

of late morning sun and leaf-shadows

flashing on the floor outside my bedroom,

what the Japanese call komorebi—light

and dark held in the same container

of a single moment, as we hold them in us,

learning to love equally a burst of joy

welling up like wind in the crowns of trees

and a sorrow that still weighs us down

like stones in the shoes, like swallowed clay.

Today, I stand here at the edge of both,

knowing that if I want to walk in the light

I’ll have to dance with the shadows too. 

It is planned, yet synchronistic, that today is a year minus one day, from Eric's Celebration of Life; yes, there was much love in that room but, since it was only two weeks after his death, we were all immersed in serious grief and its non-linear stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. 

I have found a home in Acceptance now.  I know my son is gone from this earthly plane, and he is not coming back.

However, I have fully embraced Gratitude.  We have, and continue to, honor our boy in so many different ways: ashes spread everywhere from Alaska to California to Finland to Key West to Mexico to New Mexico to South Carolina... gathering monthly for E's Breakfast Club (we welcome your presence!)... Memory Bears... owls (so many owls!)... a brick at the Cooper City Optimist Clubhouse... and this beautiful tree and plaque via the City of Pembroke Pines.

If you recall, I said a year ago that "as long as we remember him, he lives".  Eric is here now, and he is in our hearts, and he is around us every minute of every day.  And I thank all of you for that.  You love him as much as we do.  And, because of that, we are endlessly woven together in a Community of Love, and we all benefit.  Keep loving him, keep loving each other, pay it forward... 💗

Second Poem.  Ray Bradbury wrote:

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said.

A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. 

Or a garden planted.

Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, 

and when people look at that tree 

or that flower you planted, you're there.

It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something 

from the way it was before you touched it 

into something that's like you 

after you take your hands away.

The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. 

The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all;

the gardener will be there a lifetime.

[Let's have our Kumbaya moment, shall we?  Please take a deep breath, hold hands and squeeze tightly...]

Thanks for being here today.  We love you all.  Any memories you wish to share?" (and there were, and we laughed as well as cried... 😂😭)

SONG:  Big Green Tree by Stan Ridgway

BOOK:  Whispers of The Healing Tree: A Journey Through Grief and Gratitude for Families by Brandi Towner

POEM(S):  see above

QUOTE:  “Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water... and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.” ~ Brian Jacques 

When We Were Younger (SOJA)

Later this morning, I will be sending out the following as an Update to the GoFundMe that was created almost a year ago. It only made sense to share it here as well... 🤷 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Family and Friends of the MossFam6 -

It is impossible to believe that today is the one-year mark of Eric's passing. It feels like yesterday, right? We remain in awe and gratitude that you all generously contributed $15,000+, which helped tremendously with all the costs incurred. My goal of sending thank-you notes made it through a double-handful, so please accept my apologies that those good intentions remain locked in my heart and mind, unexpressed yet no less sincere.

It's been an interesting year of learning and growth and change. All the Coping Mechanisms: bereavement group and therapy and meditation, oh my! Chico and I have a niche/shrine in our living room, with flowers from the garden where I volunteer... a Memory Bear a friend made from one of E's button-down shirts (you'd recognize the paisley pattern)... and of course candles and sage. And owls, which became significant a few weeks after he died.

Eric's ashes (so far) have made it to Alaska, two California locations, Key West (with Dar Williams!), Cozumel, South Carolina, northern Florida, my sister's weekly Trivia Night in Georgia, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in northern New Mexico, Norway, Sweden, and every reggae concert in South Florida in the last year (especially Stick Figure; thanks, JT!).

We started a Breakfast Club at IHOP, usually the first Sunday of each month, where we share memories and make new ones. Chico had a brick installed at the Cooper City Optimist Clubhouse. We planted a tree in E's memory at Ashley W. Hale Park (in our old Pembroke Lakes neighborhood), and will soon gather for a dedication. If you're local and interested in details of the aforementioned, e-me at ozwoman321@aol.com. We'd love to have you join us for either or both.

Hugs to all of you. To all of us. Ugh. What a year. But now we have made it through the Firsts, and the Seconds will be easier. I am beyond thankful for the wagons we circled, the Village we created, the traditions we began, as well as continued. The love keeps rippling out... 💗

It bears repeating: as long as we remember Eric, he lives. “What is grief, if not love persevering?” ~ WandaVision (thanks to Rob for the heads-up).

Susan, Chico, Rob, Sarah, and Colin

SONG:  When We Were Younger by SOJA

"What's the answer to your soul's light?

I wonder do we get to come back

I wonder if I will remember these questions I've asked

Or will I just start over again?" (thanks to Andrew for the nod to this song)

BOOK: The Bereaved Parent by Harriet Sarnoff Schiff POEM(S): Swimming Lessons by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer How scared they were that first day, the ones who had never before put their faces into the cold blue water of the pool. Goosebumps rose on their tiny limbs, mine, too, as we shivered in the shallow end. I’d take their hands and we’d move in a circle, Ring around the rosies— Their little voices rang out with lisp and shine. Pocket full of posies— scent of chlorine and sun screen and Ashes, ashes, we all fall— Years later, afraid of a much different deep end, I notice who is holding my hands. Sometimes we sing while we meet what we fear. It makes it easier as we all fall down.

In the untimely event of my death, Immediately unwrap everything you have kept for new, I will enjoy it in spirit with you. Take out all your brightest colours and clash so hard, the sun is in awe of your light. I want you alive and present and rainbow-bright. Eat cake. And slather butter on your bread, this is the prize for not being dead. Book a holiday, somewhere I said you must go walk to the forest, make it long and slow. Watch everything grow. Touch your face, touch your nose, you so often berate, marvel at how you arrived so late to see its beauty. To see it daily now, is duty. Set your watch, time is not yours but oh this life, it is and it’s down to you, how you chose to live, this is the gift, my dying, will give. ~ Donna Ashworth

Begin Again by Jeannette Encinias

Begin again.

Little moments.

Tending to the flowers.

Cutting the fruit.

Opening the curtains so that the entire sky can greet you.

It’s never easy but, no matter.

Steam from the tea so quiet.

An open book, and door, and arms.

You have time.

Time to create a life that you can stand up straight in. Even though life may beat you down. Hard. Even though things, situations, and people you love may be taken away from you so that your arms can memorize the grace of letting them go. Even then, especially then, begin again.

Remind yourself that nothing really dies, rather, it transforms. Everything and everyone you have ever loved lives in the mysterious memory of your cells. Turning. Healing. Renewing itself. Until one day, a photograph of something or someone very dear, long gone, visits your mind and you bow your head with appreciation.

Meanwhile, take your pain to the sea and your trouble to the mountain.

Leave it there and walk home clean.

When failure knocks and rattles and quakes, let it.

Watch it make a fresh canvas of you.

Failure, that great teacher, is kinder if you thank her as you are getting up off the floor. She knows something that you don’t know: that she is usually the last face you will see before breaking through. Such a little light in the crack of the door.

But today, if you are wading through the waters of loss or confusion: begin again.

Open the avocado.

Draw the bath.

Call your best friend.

Gather the books.

Play your favorite album.

Write.

Create art.

Open your arms. Move your legs. Lovely, little blessings. Whispering to life that you won’t give up. Not ever.

Mother and Son by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer Briefly, you were taller than I, tall enough that when we hugged my head rested against your chest, your body lean from growing so fast. My body remembers how new it felt when you gathered me in long, slender arms the way I had once cradled you. It is not the same to be held by your absence, no warmth, no scent. Still, I let myself be held by what is here— no heartbeat but my own, but oh, the love still growing.

QUOTE(S): “Grief is normal. It’s not like you’ll have a life someday with no grief. Life is all about loss, but grief is the medicine for that loss. Grief is not your problem. Grief is not the sorrow. Grief is the medicine. The people that have grief cultural awareness are always turning all of their losses into beauty in order to make more life instead of just trying to get through it and then forget about it.” ~ Martin Prechtel

"I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room" (I can't find an attribution for this)

“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.

For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.” ~ Frederick Buechner

You and Me on the Rock (Brandi Carlile)

Today is our 48th wedding anniversary.  WTF.  Crazy, right?!?

Oh, and if you're doing the math at home:  17,520 One Days at a Time... 🤣

A Happy Marriage, One Gesture at a Time by Susan Semenak

"Really great marriages are not the result of long hours of hard work, but of everyday behaviours and attitudes, seemingly small gestures that show your spouse that he or she is noticed, appreciated, respected, loved and desired," Orbuch writes in her just-published book 5 Simple Steps to Take Your Marriage from Good to Great (Delacorte Press), which is based on the study's findings.

MONTREAL – What makes couples happy? What makes marriages last? It's the small stuff, it turns out: Telling him he looks great in his jeans. Bringing her coffee in bed in the morning. Sneaking off without the kids from time to time. Taking turns doing the laundry.

Terri Orbuch, a Michigan-based research professor and marriage- and-family therapist, spent more than 22 years charting the love lives of 373 married couples in the U.S. government-funded Early Years of Marriage Project, the longest-running study of marriage conducted in North America.

The secrets of happy couples, Orbuch and her team of researchers found, were surprisingly simple.

"Really great marriages are not the result of long hours of hard work, but of everyday behaviours and attitudes, seemingly small gestures that show your spouse that he or she is noticed, appreciated, respected, loved and desired," Orbuch writes in her just-published book 5 Simple Steps to Take Your Marriage from Good to Great (Delacorte Press), which is based on the study's findings.

When couples in solid relationships run into trouble, or experience "the blahs," they often focus on what's wrong, as do many self-help books and marriage counsellors, Orbuch said in a telephone interview this week. But she found focusing on their strengths and taking a few minutes every day "to fix the little things" had a greater impact on happiness.

"It's not those big challenges that couples experience that eat away at happiness so much as the seemingly minor issues that accumulate over the years," Orbuch said. "We're so busy with work and family and exercise and shovelling snow and doing the groceries that people too often put their relationships on the backburner." Here are a few of the secrets Orbuch gleaned from happy couples for making a good marriage great:

Read the rest of the article here... 

SONG:  You and Me on the Rock by Brandi Carlile

BOOK:  What Makes a Marriage Last: 40 Celebrated Couples Share with Us the Secrets to a Happy Life by Marlo Thomas, Phil Donahue

POEM(S):  New Vows by Sierra DeMulder

When my best friend got married,

he walked down the aisle to a song

about death. Isn’t that what marriage is

all about? he laughed. A promise

to be together until one of you dies?

I regret my wedding vows, too focused

on the benign—our boundless laughter,

how I cherish just waking up together.

I should have said, I take thee and all

the treachery that aliveness guarantees.

I should have said, I will help bury

your elders. I take your hand and your heart 

murmur; the cancerous growth above

your father’s ear. I take your family

history of alcoholism and give you back

a possible covenant of dementia, miscarriage, 

high blood pressure. In sickness and in

car accidents. In sickness and in the mundane. 

Shared calendars and anniversaries spent 

arguing about our budget. You told me once 

Great Danes have a short life expectancy, 

only 6-10 years if you’re lucky, and I cried: 

who would sign up to love something

so impermanent? O, beloved, we have

been so happy lately, it’s making us nervous. 

And isn’t that what marriage is all about:

a love so darling, so hallowed and exposed,

we both volunteer to be its keeper—when

the joy runs dry, when the body fails—

not because but in glorious spite of

the unpalatable, impossible fact that

someday one of us will wake up first

only to find ourselves alone.

Me First by Billy Collins

We often fly in the sky together,

and we’re always okay—there’s our luggage now

waiting for us on the carousel.

And we drive lots of places

in all manner of hectic traffic,

yet here we are pulling in the driveway again.

So many opportunities to die together,

but no meteor has hit our house,

no tornado has lifted us into its funnel.

The odds say then that one of us will go

before the other, like heading off

into a heavy snow storm, leaving

the other one behind to stand in the kitchen

or lie on the bed under the fan.

So why not let me, the older one, go first?

I don’t want to see you everywhere

as I wait for the snow to stop,

before setting out with a crooked stick, calling your name.

Habitation by Margaret Atwood

Marriage is not

a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder:

the edge of the forest, the edge

of the desert

                the unpainted stairs

at the back where we squat

outside, eating popcorn

the edge of the receding glacier

where painfully and with wonder

at having survived even

this far

we are learning to make fire

Marriage by Ellen Bass

When you finally, after deep illness, lay

the length of your body on mine, isn’t it

like the strata of the earth, the pressure

of time on sand, mud, bits of shell, all

the years, uncountable wakings, sleepings,

sleepless nights, fights, ordinary mornings

talking about nothing, and the brief

fiery plummets, and the unselfconscious

silences of animals grazing, the moving

water, wind, ice that carries the minutes, leaves

behind minerals that bind the sediment into rock.

How to bear the weight, with every

flake of bone pressed in. Then, how to bear when

the weight is gone, the way a woman

whose neck has been coiled with brass

can no longer hold it up alone. Oh love,

it is balm, but also a seal. It binds us tight

as the fur of a rabbit to the rabbit.

When you strip it, grasping the edge

of the sliced skin, pulling the glossy membranes

apart, the body is warm and limp. If you could,

you’d climb inside that wet, slick skin

and carry it on your back. This is not

neat and white and lacy like a wedding,

not the bright effervescence of champagne

spilling over the throat of the bottle. This visceral

bloody union that is love, but

beyond love. Beyond charm and delight

the way you to yourself are past charm and delight.

This is the shucked meat of love, the alleys and broken

glass of love, the petals torn off the branches of love,

the dizzy hoarse cry, the stubborn hunger.

QUOTE(S):  “Marriage is not a noun; it’s a verb. It isn’t something you get. It’s something you do. It’s the way you love your partner every day.” ~ Barbara De Angelis

"Basically the secret to a long-lasting marriage is memory loss and well-meaning lies and beach margaritas." ~ Jenny Lawson

Dark Skies (Danny Schmidt)

"when the stars did guide us" by Ezra Berger, original oil on canvas*

Yesterday (August 26) was eleven months since Eric's death.  Crazy.  September will find me one big fat f*cking mess; it will almost be a relief to hit the one-year mark, the countdown to which has been excruciatingly painful, yet educational (if that makes a bit of sense).

Details soon of a potluck Breakfast Club get-together on a Sunday morning in early- to mid-October, in Ashley W. Hale Park, Pembroke Pines (our former neighborhood).  We are having a tree planted (and a plaque made) in E's memory, and would love to gather whatever friends and family are able to attend... 🌳

*As soon as I saw Ezra's painting posted online, I could envision it in my house.  I am a Leo (in my mind the one Dar Williams met in Mercy of the Fallen - ha!)  Crazy synchronicity... or meant-to-be?:

first verse: 

"I had asked you to steer me

To one cloud scattered night

I got lost and in my travels

I met Leo the Lion

last verse:

"There's the weak and the strong

And the many stars that guide us

We have some of them inside us"

Yes, I bought this stunning work of art... 🌃🦁

SONG:  Dark Skies by Danny Schmidt

BOOK:  Joy Rides through the Tunnel of Grief: A Memoir by Jessica Hendry Nelson (a birthday present from my friend Judi... 💖)

POEM:  changed by Ullie Kaye

yes I have changed. you may not recognize me anymore. the new me does not pretend to be anything other than who I really am. you may not recognize the kind of strength that courses through my veins. it is rich with suffering. and believing. and overcoming. I no longer crave the things that I thought made me beautiful. but rather, i am delicious now in spirit. in choosing tenderness. and deliberate breaths. and a longing to be to others what I always wished them to be to me. I no longer have eyes that search for approval. but my vision is on whatever brings grace and healing and growth. I am full of love. and empty of being consumed by things that really do not matter. don't get me wrong. I am still filled with a thousand, broken pieces - I've just rearranged them all.

QUOTE:  "We are travelers on a cosmic journey; stardust swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to Love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity." ~ Paulo Coelho

Shine (Stick Figure)

[photo credit:  Sarah]

So... I turned 70 years old this past Monday (August 5) and, through a bizarre yet synchronistic series of events, we celebrated in Ormond Beach.  Too complicated to retrace the details of our on-again/off-again MossFam cat-herding expedition, but it also included a visit on Saturday to Jupiter (Florida, not the planet) with extended family (Uncle Andy, Aunt Jeannie, Andy's sons Drew and John, and Drew's son Brian; it had been over five years since we'd all seen each other!).  At this point, we didn't know if we were driving away from Hurricane Debby or directly into it.  Yikes... 😲

Halfway to our destination, we continued on another two hours and checked in to the hotel about 9 p.m., delightfully surprised by our room's spaciousness, elegant simplicity, and oceanfront view.  The next four days alternated between drizzly, windy, sunny, and everything in between, which of course didn't stop us from beaching, pooling, jacuzzi-ing (or, as Colin says, shacuzzi... 😂), putt-putting, basketballing, ping-ponging, Ouisi-ing, bedtime-storying, etc.  Family-friendly as well as relaxing... 💥😎

Michele and her crew met up with us Tuesday afternoon and, as she said, it was so beautiful to watch our now grown-up children with their own kiddos, who got along swimmingly (pun definitely intended!).

And Rob found the perfect casual beachfront restaurant to celebrate me, and after dinner we went practically across the street to a cheeZy souvenir shop (in fact, this entire getaway was so reminiscent of our longstanding and long-ago Ft. Myers Beach family vacations), where I promised everyone $10 (Sarah added the extra challenge of "in 10 minutes") to locate a cool find for themselves, and darned if Colin didn't choose a sharktooth necklace, just like Eric used to get... every. damn. summer... 🦈

No surprise there were multiple Eric visitations: Three Little Birds art in our room... an owl whistle in NovelTea Bookstore/Coffeehouse (where Michele and I snuck away to Facetime with our dear friend Rox, and to open presents)... a rainbow... perfect playlist at the restaurant, including Slightly Stoopid, Rebelution, and Stick Figure (Shine is my new favorite song of his; conjuring it for Saturday's concert... ✨)

Returned home about 4 Wednesday afternoon, but I pretended I was still on vacation the rest of the day, and only today allowed Real Life to intervene (unpacking and reorganizing and laptopping, oh my!).

I sat on my balcony this a.m. feeling waves of abundant Gratitude and Peace (the latter in short supply these last ten months) and, most surprisingly, Clarity.  It was as if all of my foggy brain cells since Eric's death conspired to unite in solidarity (like Swimmy)...

...the next level up from glimmers, to crystallize my inner vision and mend my broken heart.  The sun is shining through... 🌞

P.S.  All this to say:  I  need more Beach Time in my life... ⛱

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one.

Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

SONG:  Shine by Stick Figure

BOOK(S):  Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing As We Age by Mary Pipher

How to Age Disgracefully by Clare Pooley

POEM(S):  

No one told me 

it would be like this— 

how growing older

is another passage

of discovery

and that aging is one

grand transformation,

and if some things become torn apart

lost along the way,

many other means show up 

to bring me closer 

to the center of my heart.

No one ever told me

if whatever wonder 

waits ahead

is in another realm

and outside of time.

But the amazement, I found,

is that the disconcerting things 

within the here and now 

that I stumble 

and trip my way 

through, also

lead me 

gracefully

home.

And no one told me 

that I would ever see

an earth so strong 

and fragile, or

a world so sad 

and beautiful.

And I surely

didn't know 

I'd have

all this life 

yet in me

or such fire

inside my 

bones.

~Susan Frybort

This Body by Joyce Sutphen

When I stepped ashore in this body

I was recognized at once

and given a name.

My bones were smaller, but the shape

of the cheek and the chin

are the same.

This is the only body I know: this color

my eyes, this color my skin.

Every scar is mine.

I have become as tall, as slim, as old

as I am. My voice has carried the weight

of what I had to say.

Words were scattered along the way: words

on gravel roads, in hallways and staircases.

Words on a wire.

Somewhere in a field, my hair. Somewhere in a lake,

my skin, some rooftop where my gaze rested,

some star, a wish.

This is my address on earth: temporary, fragile,

a name in the phonebook,

at the moment, alive.

Idea by Kate Baer

I will enjoy this life. I will open it 

like a peach in season, suck the juice 

from every finger, run my tongue over 

my chin. I will not worry about clichés 

or uninvited guests peering in my windows. 

I will love and be loved. Save and be saved 

a thousand times. I will let the want into 

my body, bless the heat under my skin. 

My life, I will not waste it. I will enjoy this life.

The Birth of Phoenix by Beth Weaver-Kreider

This is the story of the woman

who believed that happiness

lay in the sound of Anything-At-All

slipping through her open doorway,

who grew beyond bounds,

whose walls dissolved in a grey mist

to let in a garden,

a star,

and a small silvery snake,

who discovered the spiraling staircase

which led to the Aunt in the attic,

who plied that old woman with indecent questions

and robed herself warmly

in old woman’s laughter,

who carried the rage of the crone in her pocket

like a sculpted soapstone jackal,

who suckled that fury—that ravenous infant,

who knew a canary from plaster pretenders,

who built her own cottage of clay, thatch, and brambles,

who walked through the market,

unveiled by the eyebrows

of merchants and gabblers,

who swam to deep waters

alone like a manta,

who left the green waves for a road full of daughters,

who shaved off her hair,

to step naked and newborn

among glowing embers.

There Is a Girl Inside by Lucille Clifton

There is a girl inside.

She is randy as a wolf.

She will not walk away and leave these bones

to an old woman.

She is a green tree in a forest of kindling.

She is a green girl in a used poet.

She has waited patient as a nun

for the second coming,

when she can break through gray hairs

into blossom

and her lovers will harvest

honey and thyme

and the woods will be wild

with the damn wonder of it.

QUOTE(S):  "Do not grow old, no matter how long you live. Never cease to stand like curious children before the Great Mystery into which we were born." ~ Albert Einstein

“Just because you’re not doing what other people are doing, that doesn’t mean you’re failing or falling behind. You’re charting your own course and staying true to yourself, even though it would be easier to join the crowd. You’re creating a life you can fall in love with instead of falling in line. You’re finding the courage to do what’s right for you, even though it’s uncertain and scary and hard. Give yourself some credit, because these are all reasons to be proud.” ~ Lori Deschene

"When we are young, it’s the illusion of perfection that we fall in love with. As we age, it’s the humanness that we fall in love with- the poignant stories of overcoming, the depthful vulnerability of aging, the

struggles that grew us in karmic stature, the way a soul shaped itself to accommodate its circumstances.  With less energy to hold up our armor, we are revealed and, in the revealing, we call out to each other’s hearts... Where we once saw imperfect scars, we now see evidence of a life fully lived." ~ Jeff Brown 

“I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.” ~ Charlotte Bronte

“And then there are the cravings... Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows. She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés

"Drench yourself in hope

It is always on the horizon

The sun will arrive

Gravitating to you

Seeking you

Warming you

With the golden light

Of something new glistening"

~ Victoria Erickson