The Way I Remember You

 Dear Wayne,

Yesterday I unexpectedly found this photo of you I did not even remember existed.

 It’s from June 1994.

You are holding Danny’s daughter Heather.

I showed your dad. He looked at you a long time, but had no words.

I am aware I have not written about you, memories and all.

Still so difficult knowing you’re gone. 

So this is a step.

For you, my son.

Just Allow

I had so many plans on what I would write today.

Then I took Jim for some bloodwork, and in the car he expressed a 

great deal of anger about having to get tests and keep appointments, 

when it is so difficult for him to just get out of the house.

After having my anger moment last week,

I knew I had to just allow him this rage.

When back home, we talked about it.

We thought about what things can be canceled.

I told him he is the one who needs to decide when enough is enough.

When his quality of life is suffering too much.

His anger is good because it will help point the way.

His face relaxed.

I learned last week about joy, grief, and anger.

I told him that he has a right to be angry.

That what has happened sucks.

That he is trying to protect himself and me because of LOVE.

I have already run a million scenarios through my head.

And I know that I really don’t know what actually will happen.

But I know enough to allow what is.

To listen with empathy and understanding,

and respond with an open heart to his life path,

not for what I think is best for me.

I know there is no cure to any of this.

But I know healing is always possible.

 

First Day of Summer

 

No, I wasn’t at the beach sipping drinks and watching dolphins. But yesterday did feel like the first day of summer to me.

Usually when school gets out, I crash for several days just doing a lot of nothing. This year I didn’t have that luxury. There had been so many things waiting to be done once school was out, I got right to it.

Yesterday, even with one short appointment to get Jim to, I decided was my day. I went to the library, got two short novels I’ve been wanting to read, and started one of them. We made our dinner for lunch and watched Remembering Gene Wilder on Netflix. (If you are a fan, I highly recommend.) I took a nap. I did a few other things which were not pre-planned…just things I felt like doing. Made wings for dinner, watched MASH, and read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Today Jim has a breathing test, and there are some things I want to purge. So, back to business as usual, I guess. 😆

But it was sure nice to have that day. I promise myself another one…and soon! 

Another Reminder

Reading Parker Palmer’s essay “A Wilderness Pilgrimage,” I came across this thought:

Watching wilderness overcome devastation has helped me see how suffering can serve as a seedbed for renewal. Even more, it has offered reassurance that in the great cycle of life and death, new life always gets the last word.

This serves to remind me of the power of nature, and the spirit that animates it all. Nothing is without purpose. I know I ebb and flow on this idea here in my writings…but I always know it is the highest truth, even when I seem to forget.

Right now, I’m better at letting things be and taking care of myself. It is easier because Jim is feeling good. I will take him for his labs and then take the rest of the day for myself. It seems like the best use of a summer Tuesday. 💚

Monday Morning Gratitudes

 First…the sunrise today.

I am grateful for all the friends who reached out this weekend. Thank you X a million.

I am grateful we are starting to get a handle on what we will do in case of a hurricane. That has been a relief.

I am grateful Jim woke up feeling better. The last few days were rough from the chemo, but he seems to have recovered. 😊

I am grateful my energy has returned and I’m getting things done around here. I’m taking it easy on myself, and am committed to doing things at a pace that works for me.

Along with that thought, I have decided to abandon reading One Hundred Years of Solitude. There are just too many other books I think I will enjoy more. Going to get on with that! Grateful for so many books! 

Seven years ago today is when I had one of my favorite concert experiences in a Tennessee cave called The Bluegrass Underground. I am grateful for the times Jim and I had traveling to places that matter to us. Nothing will ever take away those memories.

Wholeness (acrostic)

 

Wholeness is already

Here, waiting to be recognized. I

Only have to turn away from thoughts that

Limit this truth.

Everything has a season and it

Not only serves me, it enhances my life in

Ever changing and surprising ways.

So today I invite in what is already there.

So today I recognize wholeness as the essence of the art of being.

***

(Inspired by reading “A Season of Paradox” by Parker J. Palmer)

Another Day, Another Retelling

 I have two long time favorite columnists from Cleveland. They are Connie Schultz and Regina Brett. They are both inspiring to me as women, as writers, and as people who deeply plumb their experiences and put them in words.

A bit over a week ago, Connie quoted musician Nick Cave in something she put on Facebook. She now writes for Substack and teaches writing at a university in Ohio.When she quoted Cave, she mentioned that she had been told about his book Faith, Hope and Carnage from sister writer Regina Brett.

So, of course, I had to check out the book for myself. 

To be clear, I've never listened to Nick Cave's music. I guess he's from Australia and was kind of post-punk? I don't know. All I know is that what Connie posted got my curiosity up.

The local library had the book, and I've been working my way through it. It is a conversation, not a memoir. And it is full of beauty and awareness and the power of writing music and being a human being who grieves. (Cave's 15-year-old son died falling off a cliff.)

There are many things I want to share about what I've been reading, because some stuff is really sticking with me. I plan to just take one at a time. Today, it is this quote that begins on page 68. 

We should never underestimate that sense of being in the groove of life, of moving from one situation to another with the wind at your back, of being purposeful and valuable, of life having some semblance of order. It's really something, that feeling, made all the more profound because you know how transitory and easily broken it is. It seems to me, life is mostly spent putting ourselves back together. But hopefully in new and interesting ways. For me that is what the creative process is, for sure. It is the act of retelling the story of our lives so that it makes sense.

This week has been one of trying to get my bearings in what feels like a different life in many aspects. What “I am” has appeared to change. But yesterday, after a text conversation with my friend Kate, I realized who I am is not different. It’s the things I’m feeling that are different—feeling I haven’t had before that grow, change, and take me by surprise.

As a caretaker now, I realize that naming my feelings is essential to staying in a loving mode. I did that yesterday, and hope to do so going forward. Doing that helped me make a few decisions yesterday that needed to be made, and set me on a path forward to accomplish some things around here. I had been blocked. There is some relief now.

I kept thinking to be creative I needed to find a way to do something different. But right now, I’m creating a new life seemingly every day depending on the needs around here. As usual, it comes back to the present moment and knowing that in that place, all is well.

I was trying to figure out how to wrap this all up, and came upon this. I will let George have the last word.

It’s being here now that is most important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.