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

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

My Silver Lining (First Aid Kit)

Since 2008, it has been my custom each January 1 (a so-far-17-year tradition) to ascribe to Christine Kane's concept of choosing a Word of the Year to inspire/motivate/give me direction as to the tone/theme of my upcoming 52 weeks/365 days.  In retrospect, some of my previous words/phrases have been Release, Create, Let It Go, Health, Light, Follow-Through, Contentment, Forward, Stretch, and last year's Sage.

After much pondering (I had it narrowed down to three:  runners-up were Gratitude and Heart/Love), I decided on Now/Be Present for 2024.

If there is anything I have learned since Eric's fatal car accident on September 26, 2023... it is that *Everything* can turn upside-down in the blink of an eye.  Monumentally.  Irrevocably.  Unimaginably.  We think it's a cliche until it happens to us.  In fact, I'd venture to say we go through life thinking that it *won't* happen to us.  Strangers, yes.  Friends of friends, yes.  Sometimes even friends.  But we're still somehow One Degree of Separation from an actual tragedy.  Until it does.  No wouldas/couldas/shouldas.  No what-ifs.  No if-onlys.  Bam.  A family, a couple, a neighborhood, the world... is diminished by one.

For the past 90+ days, I have spiraled through anxious, needy, emotional, worrying, extrapolating, melancholy, self-destructive, desperate, scrambling, hyper-ventilating.  I was a big, fat, f*cking mess... and I had a good reason for being so.  My son is gone and, as many times as I write/say/scream it, that basic fact will not change.  I continue to replay in my head the phone call from his girlfriend (across state lines) that changed my life.  It was visceral.  My stomach flip-flopped.  The tears welled.  I haven't been suicidal, but I needed to figure out how to get out of the loop.

I now wake up every morning, and do my best to talk myself off the proverbial ledge.  I realize I hadn't been taking care of myself as well as I should; everyone else, yes... but not me.  Vowing (and following through) with taking my vitamins/supplements, eating more healthfully, moving my body, muting my phone and setting aside quiet time, maintaining boundaries.  The grief journey (there is no destination) continues, as does the healing.

What's done is done; I can't alter the past, nor can I control the future.  But Right Now, The Present, is within my grasp.  I will do everything in my power to honor E and make him proud of me... one thought, task, day at a time... ⏰

SONG:  My Silver Lining by First Aid Kit (and there is a f*cking owl in the video... 😲)

BOOK:  Be Where Your Feet Are: Seven Principles to Keep You Present, Grounded, and Thriving by Scott O'Neil

POEM(S):  

She walked naked

Into the New Year.

No definite plan.

No vision boards.

No intentions set.

No journals created.

No classes or workshops scheduled.

Only trust in the Great Mystery,

in Goddess,

to provide and direct

her Soul toward its destiny.

Dreaming the visions between

past and future lives,

She listened to the voice

of her Soul

as it called her forward

into love and grace and magnificence.

As it called her deeper into her purpose,

step by step by step.

With only an open heart

and the thrill of the journey,

She walked freely and open

into the coming year.

~ Arlene Bailey

Her Sacred Wild, Re-Membering the Wild Soul Woman 

The Only Prayer by James Crews

Because there was nothing else to do,

and the news frightened me as usual,

I took a walk on my favorite trail

in the woods, and because the snow

began to melt as soon as it fell,

everything was wet—the lichen a bright

lime-green on the bark of each fallen tree,

the leaves beneath my feet deliciously

soft as they squelched and sank back

into the arms of the earth that shaped them. 

I picked up one of the limp, gold-

toned beech leaves, pressed it to my chest 

then left my despair on a mossy trunk,

like placing a lit candle on an altar

and saying the only prayer that matters:

I'm here, I’m here, I’m here.

With Astonishing Tenderness by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

When, in the middle of the night,

you wake with the certainty you’ve

done it all wrong, when you wake

and see clearly all the places you’ve failed,

in that moment, when dreams will not return,

this is the chance for your softest voice—

the one you reserve for those you love most—

to say to you quietly, oh sweetheart,

this is not yet the end of the story.

Sleep will not come, but somehow,

in that wide awake moment there is peace—

the kind of peace that does not need

everything to be right before it arrives.

The peace that comes from not fighting

what is real. The peace that rises

in the dark on its sure dark wings

to meet you exactly as you are.

QUOTE(S):  “There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.” ~ Jean-Paul Sartre 

"This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls." ~ John Muir

"We are so brief. A one-day dandelion. A seedpod skittering across the ice. We are a feather falling from the wing of a bird. I don’t know why it is given to us to be so mortal and to feel so much. It is a cruel trick, and glorious." ~ Louise Erdrich

Closer to Fine (Indigo Girls)

"There's more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line..."

Glimmers.  I've seen the word before in others' writings, and I've referred to it elsewhere in this blog.  It's so easy to get stuck, mired, enveloped in the fog of grief.  Getting out of bed each morning feels insurmountable... putting one foot in front of the other to get through the day is challenging... coming to grips that your loved one is gone forever is still impossible to fathom.  And for a while that's all you can see.  Darkness.  Yeah, I realize the irony.

Yet, every once in a while, glimmers appear.  Small, brief, barely recognizable... but they're there.  Like fireflies.  And they speak of possibilities.  

And it won't be the default anytime soon, but Fun is finding its way back into our MossFam dynamic... and Laughter... and Joy.  Rob uncharacteristically called a Family Dinner into action tonight (it's usually *me* herding the cats).  I picked up pizza on the way over to Sarah's.  The theme was "New Year, New Me, New E".  There was a heartfelt toast.  We didn't know what to expect, but it morphed into an evening with Willie Nelson, Bette Midler/Annie, Will from Stranger Things, a mermaid, Slash, Kris Jenner (and Kris Jenner as a blonde!), and a cranky Dennis the Menace who was not amused, had to be bribed with brownies, and even then snarled his way through our photo-ops.  And it was very good... 💖💖💖💖💖

"It's only life after all, yeah..."

SONG:  Closer to Fine by Indigo Girls

BOOK:  Grief Glimmers Grace by Betsy B. Murphy

POEM(S):  The Edge by Donna Ashworth

Standing at the edge of a new chapter can be scary. 

The desire to run back into the pages you know so well, 

is more than tempting. But you must keep moving. 

Chapters end, even the good ones. 

And if you linger in the past too long, 

your story cannot unfold the way it should. 

And you might just miss the most beautiful moments of your life, 

whilst grieving the ones gone by. 

It’s scary at the edge, my friend, I know. 

But just jump. You have so much ahead. 

And the good stuff behind, will always be there.

The Way It Is by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Over and over we break

open, we break and

we break and we open.

For a while, we try to fix

the vessel—as if

to be broken is bad.

As if with glue and tape

and a steady hand we

might bring things to perfect

again. As if they were ever

perfect. As if to be broken is not

also perfect. As if to be open

is not the path toward joy.

The vase that’s been shattered

and cracked will never

hold water. Eventually

it will leak. And at some

point, perhaps, we decide

that we’re done with picking

our flowers anyway, and no

longer need a place to contain them

We watch them grow just

as wildflowers do—unfenced,

unmanaged, blossoming only

when they’re ready—and my god,

how beautiful they are amidst

the mounting pile of shards.

QUOTE(S):  "Without suffering, there's no happiness. So we shouldn't discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“Don’t get me wrong: grief sucks, it really does. Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit.” ~ Anne Lamott

"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~ Rumi

Light Is Returning (Charlie Murphy & Jami Sieber)

"Traditionally, the Winter Solstice, December 21, was considered the birth day of the sun, that magnificent point in time when the sun begins its return to the Earth again. In the midst of the longest darkest night, deep in the earth, even the seeds begin to stir with hope.

In times past and present, people gathered around bonfires, lit candles, sang songs of holiness and joy, and danced together to welcome the return of the light and the promise of new life. Homes were decorated with evergreen boughs, the symbol of life everlasting, and great feasts were prepared. We can still do much of this!

Now, more than ever, when so many people are suffering, isolated and alone, and the Earth herself seems in crisis, it is important to honor and celebrate these great shiftings of Earthly cycles. 

✨ We are the light, living stars on Earth reflecting our light back into the darkness. Our task is to remember to turn that light on in our hearts and souls. Let it reflect in who we are and what we do in the world and the possibilities are infinite.✨

This Solstice, join your energies with the thousands of others around the world who are lighting their fires and singing their songs into the darkness. Dance freely, set your intentions, let go, and release all that no longer serves you or humanity. Order your seeds, plan your gardens, dream your future, and never fear, the sun is returning again and a new dawn is on its way.

With love from Vermont,

Rosemary 🌿"

Happy Yule!  I have always appreciated and been in awe of the Winter Solstice, but, unlike many dear friends (M!), I have never actively celebrated it.  With my recent affinity for gardening leading me to Herbalism (what I like to call Kitchen Witchery), I am finding myself drawn to earth-centered beliefs and Pagan rituals.

Do you have a Solstice ritual?  I actually started one this year.  I of course had candles, sage, and the Internet to find blessings and words of wisdom, all accompanied by a mug of Cinnamon Apple Spice Tea, a recent gift from a dear friend... 🍵  As good a time as any to chase away the darkness and to conjure light in these troubled/trying/tragic times, right?

P.S.  If you're paying attention... yes, my blogging routine is Tuesdays and Fridays but, since today is the Winter Solstice, it only made sense to post on the actual day.. 🔥🕯🔥🕯🔥

SONG:  Light Is Returning by Charlie Murphy & Jami Sieber

BOOK:  Winter Solstice: An Essay by Nina MacLaughlin

POEM(S):  

I cannot tell you

how the light comes.

What I know

is that it is more ancient

than imagining.

That it travels

across an astounding expanse

to reach us.

That it loves

searching out

what is hidden

what is lost

what is forgotten

or in peril

or in pain.

That it has a fondness

for the body

for finding its way

toward flesh

for tracing the edges

of form

for shining forth

through the eye,

the hand,

the heart.

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way

into the deepest dark

that enfolds you,

though it may seem

long ages in coming

or arrive in a shape

you did not foresee.

And so

may we this day

turn ourselves toward it.

May we lift our faces

to let it find us.

May we bend our bodies

to follow the arc it makes.

May we open

and open more

and open still

to the blessed light

that comes.

   - Jan Richardson 

Spell of the Christmas Cactus by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Something magic

about knowing

it’s the darkest days

that bring on the buds,

the extravagant bloom,

because oh, friend,

how dark it is.

To Know the Dark by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Love the Dark by James Crews

Sometimes it is only the darkness

that can free us. Sunlight might be

streaming in from all sides, yet you

crave the safety of drawn shades,

locked doors, the silenced phone.

Give yourself permission to rest

like the orchid whose bud must stay

shut tight as a chrysalis for days,

curled up and waiting for that final

moment of unfurling, when it opens

pink-veined, white wings of petals

wide to the sky, embracing the light

that comes only after the longest night.

QUOTE(S):  "Darkness deserves gratitude. It is the alleluia point at which we learn to understand that all growth does not take place in the sunlight." ~ Joan Chittister and Rowan Williams

"Reclaim what has been forgotten.  Dance the fire of your longing under the waxing moon of your full presence.  Carry the seeds of your dreams awhile longer in the womb of Nature’s being.  Let the Earth incubate your wild if-onlys in its embryonic embrace as you re-member the self you were so many eons ago when you were forest and moonlight." ~ Edveeje Fairchild

"I danced with my shadows until they became part of my light." ~ Jodi Livon

It's Christmastime (Let's Just Survive) (Kathleen Edwards)

I bought a Nativity set (at Sears, of all places!) our first Christmas in Puerto Rico (1985), which means it's 38 years old now.  When they were younger, our tradition was for each child to take turns putting the characters in a place of their own choosing. The only rule was that the Baby Jesus could not be in the hayloft (since Mary and Joseph didn't fit up there as well).  Somehow it always managed to go smoothly and cooperatively.

When we sold our house and downsized to the condo five years ago, we had all the kids (now grown) over and did a schoolyard pick of the ornaments and various decorations.  Rob chose the Nativity and, since he and E lived together for four years, they continued the ritual.  This year will actually *not* be our First Christmas Without Eric; last year was, since E went with Duyen and her parents to a cabin in North Carolina for the holidays.  Before he left town, he texted the above photo to Rob... 💞

P.S.  Speaking of Rob... Happy Birthday to my Middle Child!  We gathered together for a Family Birthday Dinner this evening, and invited his friend Leslie (who is a darling).  Happy Fish Sushi:  Delicious food, beautiful ambience, stunning presentation; we'll be back.. 🍣

If you haven’t sent cards this year, or forgotten someone’s gift.

If you don’t have matching pyjamas or a festive family photograph.

It’s okay.

If you can’t find the energy to be merry and bright,

or your tree isn’t even decorated yet.

That’s really just fine.

If you don’t feel like watching your favourite Christmas movies, or honouring the traditions that you normally always do.

Don’t sweat it, my friend.

This year has been hard, for many.

Really hard.

If you can’t see a way to celebrating like you have in the past, don’t worry.

Just hang on in there, finding any joy you can in any little way.

Just make it through till next year.

One day at a time.

We need you.

Hang on in there.

You are loved.

~ Donna Ashworth

Referencing the poem below... in our case, today is 12 weeks (and a week from today makes *three* months) since Eric died:

SONG:  It's Christmastime (Let's Just Survive) by Kathleen Edwards

BOOK:  Michael Rosen's Sad Book by Michael Rosen

POEM(S):  Two Months after My Son Died by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

for MS

She gave me an hour.

Since then, every minute

has grown from the soil

of that time.

She gave me silence.

It was the wisest teaching.

She did not know me.

She deeply understood my heart.

There was a time

when she, too,

was met with unthinkable loss.

Now she knows

to say the name

of the one who is gone.

She knows not to fix.

She knows the gift

of being seen.

She asked for nothing

in return.

Over a year later,

I remember how she listened

with her eyes.

I remember the generosity

of her gaze.

She lit a candle for my child,

a golden light

on a bed of amethyst.

With that flame,

she has lit hundreds more

through my hand.

Sometimes I wonder

where her flame began,

I think of all the hands

lighting all the candles.

How beautiful that light.

How far we have come

from the dark we have known.

by john roedel

the wounds in our hearts

seem to ache a little deeper

during the holidays

don't feel like you

need to cover your wounded

heart in wrapping paper

this Christmas

you don't have to

tie the corners

of your lips with

garland to force

a smile

you don't have to

keep whistling

"silent night" to keep

people from noticing

your bottom lip is trembling

you don't have to blame

an allergy to nutmeg

for why you are walking

around with tears in your

eyes

for this Christmas

give yourself

permission

to feel whatever you

need to

last night

I was visited

by the ghost

of yuletide Heartbreak

she told me this:

it's okay to not be okay

on Christmas

it's okay to be melancholy

under the mistletoe

it's okay to come apart

while they are caroling

it's okay to trace your scars with your fingers

while others are humming ‘Holy Night’

it's okay to miss the presence of your beloved

amid the sound of opening presents

it's okay, my love,

to hurt during the holidays

don't stuff your stockings

with your suffering

don't hide your healing

during the holidays

give yourself the gift

of being authentic to yourself

it's okay to not be okay

during Christmas

it's okay to let the broken

pieces inside of you 

be the only jingle bells you

hear

because, my love, because,

it means you are still fighting

to stay alive

and I can't think of anything 

more to celebrate than that 

Talking to Grief by Denise Levertov

Ah, grief, I should not treat you

like a homeless dog

who comes to the back door

for a crust, for a meatless bone.

I should trust you.

I should coax you

into the house and give you

your own corner,

a worn mat to lie on,

your own water dish.

You think I don't know you've been living

under my porch.

You long for your real place to be readied

before winter comes. You need

your name,

your collar and tag. You need

the right to warn off intruders,

to consider my house your own

and me your person

and yourself

my own dog.

Christmas To Do List by Brian Bilston

• delay • defer • equivocate

• make some tea • procrastinate

• look at phone • stroke the cat

• readjust the thermostat

• dawdle • dither • hem and haw

• eat mince pie • chew my jaw

• write a card • spin on chair

• play six games of solitaire

• take a break • make a brew

• review my list of things to do

• eat mince pie • paper scrunch

• stroke the cat • have some lunch

• prioritise new tasks to shirk

(more cups of tea + less housework)

• look at phone • spin on chair

• eat mince pie • loiter • stare

• consider shopping • have quick doze

• rest mince pie on bridge of nose

• stroke the cat • take a break

• write a card • eat some cake

• spin phone • mince cat • stroke tea • wallow

• write To Do list for tomorrow

QUOTE(S):  “Grief, as I read somewhere once, is a lazy Susan. One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day at numbness, silence.” ~ Anne Lamott

"And in the quiet, I hear the echo of your absence.  In the stillness, in the silence, my heart aches with emptiness.  Loss is so loud.  Oh, loss is so loud." ~ Liz Newman

“When you meet someone in deep grief, slip off your shoes and set them by the door.  Enter barefoot, this darkened chapel hollowed by loss, hallowed by sorrow, its grey stone walls and floor.  You, congregation of one, are here to listen, not to sing.  Kneel in the back pew, make no sound, let the candles speak.” ~ Patricia McKernon Runkle

"What greater grief can there be for mortals than to see their children dead." ~ Euripedes 

Fix You (Coldplay)

Family vacation, July 2017, Cudjoe Key, photo credit: https://www.emileemcgovern.com/

It was a quiet, low-key week... Day-Quil-ing and Night-Quil-ing and Hall's lozenging, oh my!  I should have given you all a heads-up to buy stock in Kleenex... 🤣

It was also a strong emphasis on Radical Self-Care:  lots of hot baths, early bedtimes, catching up on TV shows (I finished Six Feet Under, at least as fabulous as I remembered it, if not more so):

"You think you finally get to the bottom of the feelings... and then there are more."

***

"I know.  I still can't believe it.  It's like... now we just go on with everything?  It's what people do."

***

"This is a hard day, and we're all very upset.  The loss of a young person is always a terrible blow.  But, in this case, it's even more cruel because [no spoiler!] was an idealist, and he struggled, all through his life, to be a good man.  He wasn't perfect; but then who among us is?  And he never gave up on himself, the people he loved, or even love itself, in all its vexing, beautiful forms."

***

"I forget how anyone ever gets over anything."

"...with time."

"...by remembering love."

"what the h*ll does that mean?"

"Slowly you fall back in love with whatever really mattered to you."

I started a WhatsApp Winter Wellness Challenge (in a no-pressure, no-guilt, no-stress definition of the word) for the month of December, inviting immediate as well as extended family members to join me in sharing (publicly or silently) their accomplishments... their stumbles... their affirmations... their words of wisdom... their get-up-and-do-it-again-amens... their memes... their goals, etc.  Motivate.  Inspire.  Encourage.  Today is Day 3 and it's already unbelievable lovely... 💖

I was delighted to test COVID-negative on Friday, meaning I could gather with Sarah, Colin, and Rob to decorate her Christmas tree that evening... as well as get back to the Hope garden yesterday.  "Oh patience" indeed... ॐ

SONG:  Fix You by Coldplay

BOOK:  Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations For Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman

POEM(S):  Allium by Rosemerry Wahola Trommer

 

While I did not fix

the thing I most

wish to fix, and I

did not do

the most important

thing on my list,

and I did not save

anyone, and I did

not solve the world’s

problems, I did

plant the onion sets

in the garden,

pressed my fingers

into the dry earth,

knew myself as

a thin dry start.

Oh patience, good

self. This slow

and quiet growing,

this, too, is

what you are

here to do.

Shoulders by Naomi Shihab Nye

A man crosses the street in rain,

stepping gently, looking two times north and south,

because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.

No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo

but he's not marked.

Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,

HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.

He hears the hum of a boy's dream

deep inside him.

We're not going to be able

to live in this world

if we're not willing to do what he's doing

with one another.

The road will only be wide.

The rain will never stop falling.

QUOTE(S):  “You begin to cry and writhe and yell and then to keep on crying; and finally, grief ends up giving you the two best gifts: softness and illumination.” ~ Anne Lamott

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” ~ Pema Chödrön 

"Our death is our wedding with eternity." ~ Rumi

"I held on to a thought about my boy that helped me face a future without him:  He had loved me his whole life.  That love is precious; and it's for keeps.  I will not waste it." ~ Hilda Bastain

Wonder of Birds (The Innocence Mission)

Whew, what a week (in a good way), busy but rewarding!  

I wrote on Tuesday about attending our second bereavement support group; I am keeping them (mostly widows) in my heart, especially with the holidays right around the corner, a definite trigger. 

I had high hopes for my first therapy appointment, and she met all my expectations, and beyond.  I wept through most of the session, as I was able to speak so freely about Eric... the details of his passing, a multitude of memories, and what coping mechanisms (so many coping mechanisms!) I'm using to move forward.  We have set up an every-other-week schedule, with the next one being Monday November 27 (after we return from our trip to the Atlanta area for Thanksgiving).  I realize it's Pandora's Box, unleashing all the pain and suffering in the (my) world, but I have to believe that, like the myth, Hope remains an achievable possibility... 💖

Sarah and I did indeed follow through on our scheduled psychic reading; I've had so many visitations (stronger at first, less so now), so the timing felt right.  All I told Celeste (our reader) in advance is that I lost a loved one, and asked if we should bring something of theirs; she replied no, that she didn't like to know anything beforehand.  The session resonated on so many levels; I wish I'd recorded it but Sarah and I went back to her house for lunch afterward, and I took notes from what was fresh in our collective minds.  

Celeste used the Light Seer's Tarot deck, and I've been able to do some research since then.  I was pretty much a puddle from the beginning, but Sarah kept her wits about her to ask intuitive questions; The Queen of Swords was what came up when Sarah asked if E had a message for me (notice the bird, one of many in our session; also, many of the cards showcased a grouping of three).  Goosebump-inducing.  So much more, but I'm holding it close for now.  Maybe at some point I will share on Facebook the "map" of our read and ask for opinions/thoughts from those who have tarot backgrounds... 🤷

Lastly, I went over to Sarah's last night so we could watch Funny Girl together (she'd never seen it!); we had previously entertained the thought of attending the touring production, currently at our local Broward Center for the Performing Arts, but the timing didn't work out.  I picked up dinner from our fave sushi place, and warned her that I knew all the words to every song, but would try not to sing along, saving that for Thanksgiving clean-up with my sister Mari (I will share that story next week).  "I got 36 expressions, sweet as pie and tough as leathah" - ha!).

Dinner tonight with friends Buck and Kathy, and tomorrow will find me at the Miami Book Fair (zippity!).  Although grief is always in evidence (as it should be), Life feels calmer, more peaceful, manageable.  E assured us:  "I am standing right next to you".  I feel him... 💗

SONG:  Wonder of Birds by The Innocence Mission

BOOK:  And Still the Bird Sings: A Memoir of Finding Light After Loss by Linda Broder

POEM(S):  One Boy by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Today the heart is full of ghosts—

one doing backflips and one

eating ice cream and one throwing

rocks in the river. One drops

a camera into a lily pond while trying

to take a picture. One peels apples

and one rides on my hip and one

sings country songs. One lights a candle

and one blows it out and one spends hours

arguing about which of the ghosts is most right.

And one is never satisfied. And one

has a thousand dull gray eyes. And one,

one whispers, I’ve got this, Mom.

And I turn to them all, one at a time,

and say welcome, you’re all welcome here.

Even the ghost who slams the door.

Even the ghost who bristles, who swears.

Ghost playing drums. Ghost aiming

nerf guns. Ghost wearing button down shirts.

Ghost with a brain made for zeros and ones.

Ghost with hands in the dirt.

And the heart expands to hold them all—

or were its corridors already stretched?

Straight A ghost. Red canoe ghost. Ghost

of the man I’ll never know. Ghost

who sits beside me at the table,

who says nothing, sipping sweet tea.

Ghost who tucks me into bed, then

slips into my dreams.

While in the Middle of Many Errands by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

At the edge of the Big Five parking lot,

in a tree still fully leafed out in November,

there must have been hundreds of invisible birds

all singing as if singing is what a day is for,

and the riotous song traveled

over the vast black asphalt sea

crossing all the organizing straight white lines—

so much song for such a small tree—

and stunned, my daughter and I stood and listened,

our rush stopped by the glorious commotion,

as if awe is what a day is for,

as if we exist to be stretched ever wider by disbelief,

as if we are here to know ourselves

as part of something greater,

the world calling us again and again

deeper into the mystery.

QUOTE:  "It is the paradoxical nature of grief to lead us to love. There is a seed planted in loss, an evolution made in breaking, a genius found in separation that is rarely apparent in the heart of crisis. But often what looks like deviation is really proliferation, like satellite initiatives born from a group’s dissolution. Intimacy is forged in the hearts of those who know exclusion. To them is given the gift of tenderness which can mentor another through their own isolation." ―Dreamwork with Toko-pa

“Our work is to show we have been breathed upon—to show it, give it out, sing it out, to live it out in the topside world what we have received through our sudden knowledge, from body, from dreams, and journeys of all sorts.” ~ Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes