Even When the Light is Low (Tom Prasada-Rao)

When last we left our SheRa, she (and her husband) had tested positive for COVID (double ugh).  Our first time and, in the grand scheme of things, it seemed to be a fairly mild case (other than that hacking cough and phlegmy build-up).  It almost seemed a relief to have an excuse to lay low and cancel commitments (not that my calendar is that full these days anyway).  The weakness/fatigue continues though.

I was negative by Friday, meaning I could go to Sarah's that evening for her Christmas tree decorating; Rob joined us too, the background music was of course The Roches' We Three Kings (a family tradition), and we could almost pretend it was just like it used to be.  Silly Me!

Being well again, it was lovely to get back to our bereavement group (3rd attendance); I love those women (and a few men), who are so kind and loving and suffering too.  My 2nd therapy appointment was also amazing; she's a wonderful listener, asks just the right questions, and provides A-ha! moments that comfort as well as enlighten me.

Duyen (E's girlfriend) sent us back to Florida with a box of Eric's belongings, and we finally tackled those; I kept a hooded rainjacket/windbreaker that I know will come in handy, a denim jacket with a cloth hoodie, and a sweater... and Chico a few tank tops (he's especially delighted with the Pink Floyd design).  We gave Sarah a few shirts, Colin a hiking/gardening hat, and Rob a nice jacket and lots of ties (two of which were actually his to begin with - ha!).  Everything else we will donate.

Oh, and we chose button-down shirts for the teddy bears that my friend Suzanne offered to make for each of us.  No deadline, sweet memories... 💗

Speaking of Memories... I'm also trying to move forward with two separate plans for remembrance:  a tree in a City of Pembroke Pines park... and a bench in the Hope Garden, both with plaques.  I will keep you all posted.

I'm sure it's the residual tiredness from COVID, and grief brain fog, but I feel very "out of it" these days... as if I'm detached from participation in life and only looking down from above, in observation mode.  I've pretty much decided not to decorate for Christmas this year; the thought of hauling boxes from our storage locker down the hall is daunting and exhausting.  The box with the front door wreath is on the top shelf, so I'll get that down and installed.  I also just bought myself a Christmas (well, a gnome) mug, which I will use every day during the season.  No Santa collection, no Buddha with the Santa hat, regular (instead of holiday) candles; I. Just. Can't. Do. It. This. Year... and that's okay... 🎅🎄🎁

P.S.  Today marks ten weeks since Eric died... 💔

SONG:  Even When the Light is Low by Tom Prasada-Rao (written 11.7.23)

BOOK:  It's OK That You're Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand by Megan Devine, Mark Nepo (Foreword)

POEM(S):  I Want My Grief by Peg Runnels

to be brilliant, fast and gone.

Like Mozart. Or Stevie Ray.

Like fireworks. Boom! Flash!

Ooh, ahh. OK, done. Let’s go.

I want my grief to be brave.

Hurts more now, heals faster,

Grandma said, pouring salt

On a skinned knee.

I want to stand up to grief,

Stand it down, like the

Tiny man, big tank

In Tiananmen Square.

Because. Because if I am brave,

Bold, salty, open enough

The tank, the bleeding, the tears

Will stop sooner. I tell myself.

But grief laughs. Humbles me.

I lose keys, break cups, get lost.

Asked at CarMax Why are you

Selling this car? I burst

Into an embarrassment of tears.

A friend says, One doesn’t have grief,

Grief has you.

We wrestle, to the mat. I’m pinned.

But sometimes I break free.

Break patterns instead of dishes.

Start to write myself a new story,

To fling myself toward yes,

Begin to say, Oh. Now this. . . . Observe

What life brings. Reframe. Say,

I’m not wrestling grief,

We’re dancing.

So, I put my right foot in . . .

And turn myself about.

Yes by William Stafford

It could happen any time, tornado,

earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could, you know. That’s why we wake

and look out – no guarantees

in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,

like right now, like noon,

like evening.

What the Day Gives by Jeanne Lohmann

Suddenly, sun. Over my shoulder

in the middle of gray November

what I hoped to do comes back,

asking.

Across the street the fiery trees

hold onto their leaves,

red and gold in the final months

of this unfinished year,

they offer blazing riddles.

In the frozen fields of my life

there are no shortcuts to spring,

but stories of great birds in migration

carrying small ones on their backs,

predators flying next to warblers

they would, in a different season, eat.

Stunned by the astonishing mix in this uneasy world

that plunges in a single day from despair

to hope and back again, I commend my life

to Ruskin’s difficult duty of delight,

and to that most beautiful form of courage,

to be happy.

QUOTE:  “Life is a hard battle anyway. If we laugh and sing a little as we fight the good fight of freedom, it makes it all go easier. I will not allow my life’s light to be determined by the darkness around me.” ~ Sojourner Truth

Box of Visions (Tom Russell)

At Star Maker Machine this week, the theme is babies and childbirth (ah, the Circle of Life after last week's In Memoriam topic), which has me thinking of my own amazing family - the photo above (click on it to see larger and sharper) was taken the week before we left on our trip, blown up to 5 x 7 size (cropped and with red-eye removed) and framed as gifts for those we were visiting...

I adore my spouse and kids and attempt never to take them for granted - after experiencing a week in the car together, not to mention cramped accommodations (motel rooms as well as lodging at various relatives homes), we lived to tell about it. Sure, there were flare-ups... but there was closeness too - I believe we all gained a renewed appreciation and respect for each other. It's been good to get home, stretch out and retain the sense of wonder that permeated the holidays - my three babies have turned into young adults right before my eyes... and I am so proud...

~ Daughter S, 27, has a great job at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel, planning events and taking on major responsibility with grace, style and enthusiasm - she's an asset to anything she's involved in...

~ Son R, 24, has taken on more cooking duties in the household - he definitely has a flair for creativity as well as good taste, and we're always delightfully surprised by each new concoction...

~ Son E, 20, whose 6' 2" frame encloses a heart of gold - prime example: I asked him to go to the grocery store for me the other evening (I wanted grapefruit)... and it took him longer than it should. He finally walked through the front door, telling about an older man who had tripped on the curb and fallen - as people walked all around, ignoring the situation, E stopped to help, gather his groceries and walk him to his car. I told him later I thought my late-night craving was a manifestation from the Universe - E was meant to be there at that time and place to care for the elderly gentleman...

~ Husband R, 56, who loves me when I'm completely unlovable, is the primary breadwinner of the family and rarely has an unkind word to say about anyone - this past September we celebrated 32 years together, and I can't imagine going through life with anyone else...

~ Dog Rocky, almost 14, whose hearing and sight are almost gone... but who reverts to puppy status as soon as he sees me don my New Balances, confident that I will walk him as soon as I have taken my own 3-mile trek around the neighborhood - it's a good cooldown for me, as his insistence on peeing on every tree gives me the opportunity to take long, rehydrating sips from my water bottle...

P.S. My SMM contributions so far are here and here...

P.P.S. Just got word that Vic Heyman passed, after being in hospice the last two weeks - my heart goes out to his beloved wife Reba, their four children and the extensive folk family they've nurtured and supported for so many years...

SONG: Box of Visions by Tom Russell

BOOK: The Family Virtues Guide: Simple Ways to Bring Out the Best in Our Children and Ourselves by Linda Kavelin Popov, Dan Popov, John Kavelin

POEM: Praise What Comes by Jeanne Lohmann

surprising as unplanned kisses, all you haven't deserved

of days and solitude, your body's immoderate good health

that lets you work in many kinds of weather. Praise

talk with just about anyone. And quiet intervals, books

that are your food and your hunger; nightfall and walks

before sleep. Praising these for practice, perhaps

you will come at last to praise grief and the wrongs

you never intended. At the end there may be no answers

and only a few very simple questions: did I love,

finish my task in the world? Learn at least one

of the many names of God? At the intersections,

the boundaries where one life began and another

ended, the jumping-off places between fear and

possibility, at the ragged edges of pain,

did I catch the smallest glimpse of the holy?

QUOTE: “Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family: Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.” ~ Jane Howard