Happy morning

Some days are blessed with happy laughter, family jokes and the warmth of affection ...this morning we had all of this. And it was precious.

My mind snapshots these moments, freeze frames them in my memory... then stores them.

Later I can take them out gloat over them, and revel in the luxury of this time when we felt that mystical oneness of family.

And so I am thankful.

Shhh...

Hushed, this moment. Quiet this night.

Black falls the curtain, white shines the light. The stars, pin-pricks sparkling. The moon, a saucer bright.

Drink deeply of the softness, breathe in the liquid peace.

Hushed is this moment. Quiet is this night.

Last day

I've been thinking about Sasha our sweet dog, who we had to say goodbye to a couple of weeks ago...and I've been thinking of what is like to know it was her last day with us as a family. How we all gravitated to the living room...each of us quietly doing our own thing...then in turn we would get up and go over to her...lie down beside her...pat her...bury our faces in our fur...whisper words of love and of longing to her. Words, which I'm sure comforted us as much as they comforted her...

These moments were precious, they are memories that we hold up to our hearts like blankets to sooth our souls when we are missing her gentle presence with us.

Then I was thinking, what would it be like if I knew it was my "last day"...or the last day of someone who I loved more than words can ever adequately express.

I was drawn back in time to the week and days just prior to the day my father died. The days before my mother died. How I miss them both...so very, very much. Each experience was so very, different. Dad died from heart troubles, fully cognizant, knowing the who, the why and the what. He had humour, gentle graciousness and he fought death tooth and nail. He would not give up, he would not give in. Even though we told him it was O.K., even though we released to his Heavenly Father's care. He was focussed on the now, and his love and his yearning for his family evident in his last words..."I love you all...tell my grandchildren I love them"... Then at last, failing, he turns towards my Mom, "Con, Con," he cries out. Then he breathes his last. We are heart-stricken, gently touching him, saying our good byes to the shell left, the father we had loved so very, very much. This last touch is powerful, poignant and utterly devastating. It is the final contact with this beloved man, our dad... daddy, daddy, how I miss you...

Mom had dementia, and this was tragic, horrible and pitiful. We lost her over the years by inches...slowly, agonizingly slowly. Her last days were ignoble, she was skeletal, incontinent, barely able to communicate...How we grieved the loss of this busy, productive, loving woman...I think in many ways she left her body before she died. The shell existing long past the essence of who she was had disappeared. Sick in body, that last day, (I had a vicious migraine), and sick at heart I went home to rest for a wee bit. I left Mom with my sister and sister-in-law who oh so gently and sweetly held her: and who murmured soft, loving words to her. Then Mom took her last breaths, and body and soul at last at one, ran into the arms of Jesus. Shortly after that we all gathered around her and again the litany of touch, the deep sorrow of final good byes. So often, so very often my heart cries out for "mom", "I want my mommy," I will say...missing her, her tender touch...her practical hands on help, just missing her...

So, I guess I'm saying if you know, you'll be there...hunkering down for the long haul, being there till the last possible moment. Soaking in whatever is left of that beloved one, turning them over to Jesus, and yes, oh yes, hanging on till you absolutely have to let them go...

And if you don't know??? Then you try with all that is within you to love well, to love now, to live each day intentionally, to keep, if you can, your quarrels short, to forgive as fully and completely as possible, to, as the James Taylor song says, "shower the people you love with love." And to, so very importantly, forgive yourself, on the days when you do none of the above well...Because we just do not know do we? And human beings are supremely the best at self-recrimination (at least I know I am) and death can be so abrupt, so sudden, so cruel and quick. Death seems so very, very final when we forget eternity. Besides eternity feels so very eternal on this side of heaven when you are missing someone you have loved and lost.

So gather your life and put it on like your favourite dress or suit and reach for the people you love - and live and love until that last day comes...

Fractured

Some days are better than others.

Some days it feels like I am splitting apart. Sense and nonsense. Round and round go my thoughts, chasing one another like a dog chasing its tail.

I am trying to retrain my brain...to think, to re-frame my circumstances, my feelings, my identity. It is hard work.

It feels like I am skiing...only I am trying to ski backwards and uphill.

Some days are tortured by insecurity, of not being adequate enough. I beat myself up, either I have not accomplished enough in my practical everyday life or I have not performed the mental gymnastics necessary to change/alter the way I am thinking. This does not help.

What helps, is, actually, thinking different thoughts. It is interior re-programming. The self-talk changes. Feeds on truth. Soaks up cheer. It is faith for the moment. Replace one thought, then the next and so on. It is finding a "mantra" and pressing the play button. It is affirming and life-giving.

It is being aware that wholeness is a lifelong procedure and process. It is allowing myself to fail, and then to begin again the next day. It is knowing the truth. I am loved. I am valued. I am precious to God. I can do and be all things or do nothing at all and be/still have love and value.

It is knowing that struggle and growth, this cocooning metamorphosis is common to humankind. That there is no sense in pretending that I am always "all together." Sometimes it is better to fall apart and then get up tomorrow and start putting the pieces back together. Painstaking as it may be, this is the work.

Fractured, and then healing. Onward I go.

Goodbye is the Hardest Word

This past Wednesday we bid farewell to our sweet and gentle Sasha. She was part collie and part Siberian Husky. She was beautiful in body and in temperament.

We have spent 13 years together. She has given us moments of delight, moments of pure comfort, moments of fun and laughter.

A true companion, playmate for our kids, walking buddy for my hubby. For me, she provided a listening ear, hours of company, a gentle loving presence.

Because she was remarkably pretty, she always drew compliments from people when she would be out on a walk.

Those soulful brown eyes, so sad if we would have to go out and leave her by herself. Yet, also, upon our return, the happy greeting, wagging of tail and kisses for us.

I'll never forget our son's expression, for whom we bought Sasha, the first time he laid eyes on her. The delight, the bliss, the pure unadulterated happiness. Truly, a boy's best friend. Now, 20, the boy, now a man, still passionately connected to this sweet creature. The boy/man weeps tears of loss. Poignant, deep is his sorrow.

Our daughter, has never known life without Sasha's presence. So, she looses too, her "little sister", her furry keeper of childhood secrets. Her tears too, ocean deep.

The chapter turns. This part of the story over.

Sad and final.

New day

Quietly, I sit soaking in the moments of this new day.

The sun pours in my kitchen window, lemon warmth, and bright. The sky a soft haze of blue: wispy, the clouds streak lazily hushing the brilliance of the day.

I take this gift, a moment of peace. Breathe deeply of this solace.

This day stretches out before me, it will unfold like silken material from a bolt of fabric. Unsure, as always of what this day will hold, I am grateful for this time. I reflect with gratitude on all that is rich and good in my life...I hug these thoughts closely.

A new day.

I go forward to greet the possibilities.

Growing Soul

How do you grow a soul???

A flower opening, petal by petal....or is it an onion....layers peeling away, one by one...

What is down there? In there? How do I get to it? Explore it, learn from it, change it?

Do the tears I weep water it?

Do the hurts I feel warp it or do the hurts provide the fuel to warm myself on a cold night?

Can I escape from the violence of emotion enfolding me, chasing me?

Or do I stop, turn full on, and embrace all that haunts me, taunts me.

How do you grow a soul?

Do you examine it? Get the microscope out? Or step back and look at "the big picture."?

Do you dance in the moment and laugh with glee???

How do you put the pieces of puzzle together? Bright sky here. Dark clouds, here. Riotous color of garden, here. Rain shower, here. Piercing warmth of the sun, here.

How do you grow a soul?

Breathe deep of life, face the agony, revel in joy...refuse, however tempting it may sometimes be, to invert, close up, shut down.

How do you grow a soul?

One step. Just one step. At a time.