This morning I woke up and pulled the covers over my face. A slight ache in my lower back from too much sleep, I opened my eyes and thought nothing of holidays past. I knew it was Christmas, and I knew this life was never going to be like the old life. But after a year of turbulence, the light is seeping in and calm is near.
I walked over to the retirement home and spent a few hours with my grandma. I realized one of the reasons it hurts so much for both of us is because I am her oldest grandchild, daughter of her dead son. I couldn’t talk about him without tears filling my eyes. I could barely look at her because the old stories would come up of when he was around, how much he loved me, how little time my mom allowed with him, and them.
But in the name of love, I am trying. And as I walked down the boulevard, I cried again. I try to intellectualize, remind myself of my blessings, all that is good, but it doesn’t help the small tears in the heart that occur every time I’m reminded of that loss.
So I did what I do best … I worked in the yard. Not a lot to do but mulch, but mulch I did. Insulating my Oregon grapes, my blueberries, my roses, my herbs – and sharing conversation with my neighbor Phu, discussing our thoughts on the coming spring and sharing garden war stories. Stopping in to see Beverly, my next door neighbor, was the best comfort – after a big embrace, she said ‘I know you have a good heart, because you give good hugs’.
Escaping into a movie is all I want tonight – to slip into a story and forget about what is not yet complete, and let everything fall by the wayside. The wind blows cold all around me but I am warm. The winter has filled the evening but I breathe in thoughts of the coming seasons, and I am okay. Just as I am.
“May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night and a smooth road all the way to your door.” ~ Irish blessing