Never Far Away

I was okay yesterday, up until my sister said "Here," and pressed this into my hand. We were outside and I turned around to go put it in the truck so I wouldn't forget it and I realized this little gift would not have been so meaningful if I still had my son with me and then I had a few moments of silent sniffling before I went back into the house.

I have appropriated a dressy blue jean jacket of his and I wore it yesterday. The sleeves are too long, and it is a bit big and I look a bit "gangster" in it, and possibly, silly, being an older woman wearing a young man's jacket, but when I put it on, I imagine I am getting a hug from him. It's true, there is still a deep and rich connection that endures, even after death. I'm grateful.

Thanks-giving and Joy

(I've heard the two really go hand in hand.)

This past weekend, I grabbed hold of the slippery crook in the "J" of joy and rode while I could. The effects have been lasting. The grief and sadness is still there, but it is tempered by joy.
I'm off today and working around the house a bit, trying to get a bit of Christmas around here. The Peaceful Holidays Radio channel is playing on Pandora, candles are lit and I'm taking a small break to enjoy a cup of coffee.

Tomorrow we will head to my sister's house in Houston for the day and then we will retreat to our little house in the country for some relatively quiet time away.

Happy Thanksgiving to you. May your joy not be fleeting (nor slippery!) in this season of Thanksgiving.

Loss

This is one I put together on my phone. It's a very good premise. I'm feeling my losses lately and I'm working (sort of!) hard on embracing whatever of life that remains after my loss. It's not been easy.

This is not an easy time of year. It never really was, I don't guess. We're all missing my son deeply and we're each coping with our loss in the best way we know how. Sometimes that coping is not so very pretty.

"You Are Already Naked"

Sometimes, when I make a picture and can't think of what I want to say, I look for quotes that might fit. And occasionally I decide I want to let the image stand on its own. At this moment, I am at a loss for any other words.

But I can't resist sharing three of the quotes I found and considered for this photo. Make of them what you will.

"Almost everything--all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure--these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." Steve Jobs

"A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover through the detours of art, those one or two images in the presence of which his heart first opened." Albert Camus

"Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken." Albert Camus

November, Day 10

I'm grateful for a cool 3.something mile walk.

I'm also thankful for my parents.

My father is going in tomorrow to have a procedure done. They think he might have more blockage. If so, they will put a stint in. They will be going in through his arm which is supposed to be better for the patient. I would appreciate your good thoughts and prayers.

November, Day Eight

Two years ago today, I had surgery for colon cancer. I had a rough time orienting myself to my room in the dark, not to mention the fact that the drugs made me a little bit crazy.

Tonight I am grateful to be alive.

November, Day Six

There is something wrong with a woman who comes in from work and exercise and eating out for dinner, runs to the dollar store to buy light bulbs because there are none in the house and the bulb is burnt out in the lamp beside her laptop, and then proceeds to play solitaire and watch FB and her email the rest of the evening.

 

Oh, yeah, the dress she wore to her son's funeral? Her youngest daughter borrowed it and tonight she took if back and tried it on and it is looser on her than it was nearly two years ago when she wore it for the first and only time and she really doesn't know how she feels about wearing it again anyway, but she still could for a little while, if she wanted to.

 

She bought the dress before she had the surgery, before her son died, because she liked a dress her youngest daughter bought and they went to the store to find it in the woman's size but that dress didn't do anything for the woman's figure. Her youngest daughter was tall and the woman is short so they looked at other dresses and the younger daughter assured her the other dress, which happened to be black, looked better on her than the dress she came looking for in the first place. So she bought it and the dress hung in her closet for a couple of months because the woman really didn't quite feel comfortable wearing the dress, or didn't have the right shoes, or something. And when her son died, and the funeral came, the woman was spared the agony of going shopping at the last minute for a suitable funeral dress. All she needed was a pair of stockings.

 

But that wasn't all she needed at all and my God, it's been nearly two years now since he's been gone and the dress is now loose on her shrinking body.

 

And now I take a breath and tell you this could be a piece of flash fiction, I wish it was a piece of flash fiction, but it's not. I have so much to be thankful for but tonight I feel my losses even though I have worked so hard to numb myself against the pain. 

Here are the things I am thankful for in the timing of all of this:

• I already had the dress.
• I was out of the hospital and recovered enough to go to the funeral. It would have been horrible had I been still in the hospital when he died.
• I had time off from work with my sick leave and the Christmas holiday to mourn and just sit with the loss. I could not have returned to work any sooner than I did.

In two days, on the 8th, it will be two years since I had my surgery. This is the beginning of my season of mourning. I don't know why this year seems to be so much harder than last year. I told a friend that there is a part of me that says, "Okay, haven't I been good enough? Can I have him back now?" It doesn't matter how good I am, it doesn't matter how bad I am. I'm not getting him back. Oh, I know, I carry his memory in my heart. But that is not near as satisfying as having him here in the flesh.

And yet, really, I do have things to be thankful for, I know I do.