The Great Purge of 2019

Everyone at some point in their lives, if not several times in their lives, will feel the need to purge our lives. The desire to simplify, to lighten, to de-clutter can be overwhelming. What what precipitates such a desire?  It can be any number of things; such as a tumultuous time in life, or a session with a life coach, or maybe an impending move, it could be anything really.  For me it is a combination of several things.  After a difficult time, where I had to keep many things for many people, and keep records for just in case, I am now ready to purge what is not needed.

It is also letting go of my old life. It is letting go of everything that came before. And you can let go while still honoring the past. But you cannot build a future of you are still holding onto that “has happened.” And sometime you need to clean out the old to make room for the new.

I am ready for the new, ready to shed ALL OF IT. And so starts the Great Purge of 2019. I started with the clothes, and have bagged over 15 bags to be taken to the trash or Goodwill.  And the result is surprisingly cathartic.  I already feel so much lighter and more is coming. I contacted a charity to get the furniture that needs to go away.  And I am going through paperwork and old records that no longer need to be kept.  And last will be all the extra “stuff.”

It is time to clean out all the debris, all the old, all of the baggage, all of the irrelevant minutia that can bog down the mind and spirit. It is more than cleaning out, more that getting rid of clutter, it is the purging of all that I will not be taking with me in this move. It is exciting and wonderful, preparing for this new time.

Life is short. Clean it out sometimes. Take the old, dust it off, enjoy them memories and let go of the bad. Because in letting go we make room for all of the wonderful that is to come. And the wonderful is coming…a lot of it is already here.

When you have been shattered, the new you can emerge.

Hi Guys

Hi Guys,

Mom and Dad, I love and miss you so much, more than words can say.

I have been doing everything to take care of the estate.  We had buyers for the compound then two weeks before closing hurricane Michael cam e through.  It didn’t destroy the place (thanks to your incredible design and insistence that it be build beyond code Dad), but it did sustain damage.  Contractors are working on it. I have no idea what I am doing, but think I have navigated it pretty well.  I hope you are proud, and I hope I have done things up to your incredible standards. Thank you for teaching me such integrity.

When I go there now, I see glimpses of you and Dad, but I don’t feel you there anymore. I think you guys are off dancing somewhere else in the universe, happy to be together. And I think you come back to visit when I am there, but you do not stay. After all, there must be so much to do in the afterlife. And I am sure that you are the social butterfly you always were, Mom, Making friends and laughing where ever you go  And Dad, I know you are just happy to be with her, warmed by the light of her. So many people have and are helping me because of how much they loved you guys.

In a way I wonder if the hurricane was when you guys decided to leave the compound, use it as your exit. Mom, the gardens you made were destroyed, but most of the fruit trees made it. I guess in a way this makes it (emotionally) easier to sell, which is a blessing in it’s own way.

The family is a mess, if you can say it even exists at all.  I have tried to put the siblings back together, but some things cannot be unbroken. And so I accept that I am alone.  The cousins have been wonderful though, even though I have not had time to talk to them much.  But they are very loving and kind.  They are my last connection to you Dad and I want to keep those relationships going.  I plan to see them all this coming year.

Mom, I cannot believe it has been almost 2.5 years since you passed away. I don;t know how I have done all of this without you.  Accept I know you and God have been guiding me. I feel you so close sometimes, that I almost feel like I could reach out and touch you.  But I can’t. I wish you would visit me more in my dreams. And I love when you and Dad give me signs, like the rainbow yesterday.

As hard as it will be to finally sell the compound, I am looking forward to the closure.  You guys know how hard this has all been and how long it has taken to handle everything.  It is time for that closure and for me to live my life, finally free. I am planning where to go and what to do after it all settles down.  I am thinking of what I want life to be for me. I am not sure what it all looks like yet, but there is time.

The holidays (I think) will be easier this year than last.  Last year was rough. But that first year always is. I am ready for it now. And I am taking a friends advice…I am not making it about family, but about love and friendships and laughter and making good memories. I will be with friends who, I am learning, are our family of choice. I wonder if you ever spent a Christmas alone like I did last year, Mom. And I wonder was it hard for your too?  But this year is different.

I used to hate the idea of time passing without you guys. I still hate it, but I cannot change it, so instead I am learning to embrace it more.  I look forward to not being able to say “My Dad died last year.” Because it means that I am moving forward like I know you would want me to. Like I know that I have to. I know that the best way to honor you, and to honor God, is to find all the Joy that life can hold.  And I will.  I will make this life spectacular. All the while, never forgetting that it is your blood that flows through my veins, my beautiful, beautiful parents.

I am going to decorate for Christmas like crazy this year. Two Christmas trees and ALL of the decorations. I will sit and be warm in the glow of everything Christmas and feel close to you both. I will not only embrace the holidays, I will choose to flourish and be  love. And if I don’t have family around, then I will make my own world with all of my friends I love and who love me the most. Life can never be the same, but I can choose to make a life where I am happy and loved.  If we write our own lives, then I can do that. If I don’t feel like I fit in or belong, then I will create my own world where I do.

I still listen to your voicemails, and they make me smile. I never want to forget the sound of your voices. Please keep watching over me and guiding me. And I hope that I make you proud. I have tried very hard to have Grace, but still be tough when needed. It can be a hard balance sometimes. Somehow both of you mastered it, and I hope to one day as well.

I hope you guys are happy where ever you are. And I often wonder, when I look at the moon, if you see it too from your view? Or are you magnificent stars, seeing the moon for yourself? Do you get to see the world, like you always wanted, traveling a new wavelength we cannot yet understand here on Earth? If so, I bet it is spectacular. Or, are you angels, helping just like you did here, just in a different way?

Know that I love you so very much, more than words can say. I honestly don;t know if I love you or miss you more? I carry you with me always. ee cummings said it best. Love you guys, always.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 

 

 

Season of Thoughts

To Wear it well

We must let go of the life that we planned so as to accept the life that is waiting for us. – Joseph Campbell

This is the time of year of festivities. Parties, gifts and resolutions.  And it is usually about this time of year that in addition to enjoying all that this happy season will bring, I start thinking about what I want to accomplish next year.

Most of the time, the things on my list are the usual:  Travel more, spend less, smile more, loose that 10 lbs that has been on my hips for the last 5 years. For this next year though it is quite different.  My goal for next year is quite simple: To wear it well.

I want simple things to not take so much energy.  Things like putting on my pants, going through daily routines…breathing.  To put it quite simply – grief is bitch.  Grief is like that bad roommate you can’t get rid of.

But the fact is that Grief will be with me for quite a while. So I must learn to wear it well.

What exactly does that mean?  It means that You hold your head high, smile anyway and get on with it.  It doesn’t mean you still don’t feel it in every part of every bone, you just don’t let it wear you, you wear it. Right now, I feel like Grief is cutting off circulation, because it is a very ill-fitting outfit that is tight in all the wrong places and loose in all the wrong spots.

From all the research I have done, grief never really leaves you. So I have to learn to wear it well. And defiantly better than I have.

Ultimately, I would like to make this grief a place from where love can grow and prosper.  I would like to make it a beautiful garden of compassion and goodness. I want to do more than wear it well; if it has to be with me for my life, then I want it to make me a better person. I just don’t know how to get there yet.

Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom. – Rumi

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The Smell of It

As a parent, it’s my responsibility to equip my child to do this – to grieve when grief is necessary and to realize that life is still profoundly beautiful and worth living despite the fact that we inevitably lose one another and that life ends, and we don’t know what happens after death. –  Sam Harris

It is funny the things that you miss.  And as cliché as it sounds, the laundry smelled so good when Mom did it. I never thought I would miss that smell so much. I cherish anything I find of her original laundry.   And I finally found out her secret.  I found her stash of fabric softener and smell good stuff.  The one problem?

I cannot find it in any stores here in the Atlanta area.  Seriously…in a city of millions…I can’t locate any of it.  Dad and I are both searching for it.  Where did she get this stuff?  Did she ship it in from another country?  Or planet?  Because this stuff smells like Love.

It is somewhere, and somehow I will find it and get as many bottles of it as possible.  Love in a bottle cannot be overrated, neither can the magical smell of laundry.

Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other. – Abraham Lincoln

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Hard Candy Christmas

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life. – Anne Roiphe

Tis the season for all the holiday festivities. It is also a very bad time for those who are grieving the loss of a loved one.  And while the grief cannot be fixed or erased, we can, if we choose, still find the beauty in every day.  We can, if we choose, appreciate the happiness and joy around us, and maybe even have some of it seep in.

And so it goes this holiday season.  The Christmas tree is going up this weekend.  A big real tree.  I’ve never had a real Christmas tree but have been told that they smell wonderful.  And there will be Christmas music and carols.  And lots of Christmas lights.  We are going to see a large light display, complete with hot chocolate and roasting marshmallows by a fire afterward. The house will have a lot of Christmas decorations, some old that have been passed down to me, and some new.

This Christmas will be hard, and that cannot be changed.  It cannot be fixed.  But. But, we do not have to drown in it either.  We can still smile through tears, celebrate through grief and see joy in the world. A broken heart still beats. The world still turns and life goes on.

So, bring on the eggnog, Christmas carols and fires.  Let’s light the house up with Christmas displays.  Let the stockings be hung, the dancing Santa’s dance and the angels sing.  No doubt my mother is one of those angels now.  May we hear her voice this Christmas, and all others to come.

I think faith is incredibly important because you will become overwhelmed with what’s happening and you will have waves of grief, but when you turn to your faith, I believe God will give you waves of grace to get through it. – Joel Osteen

 

This Thanksgiving

Change. It is a fact of life. Everyone, at some point, must accept it, learn to deal with it, adapt to it.  But that can very so very hard.

Usually I write about everything I am thankful for in the Month of November – a new list every day.  This Thanksgiving that seems too strange. I do look around and acknowledge the many blessings.  But I am not sure how to act really.  I am very thankful Dad is still here, thankful for my wonderful boyfriend, the fact that we have been blessed to have such a wonderful home and are building a life of love. That I have such wonderful friends who are there for me and love me, that I have a job I love at a great company.

And that I had 42 wonderful Thanksgivings with my mother.  That I was there in her last moments. And for all the wonderful talks and whispers and moments we shared, mother and daughter.  When she looked at me in the hospital and said “I know you truly love me.”  When she smiled and said “I know what that means.”  When I read the letter and notes she wrote labeled “Don’t open unless I am dead”…and how truly funny they were.  Thankful for the way she always knew just what to say, and when to say it, to make me smile and feel better.  Thankful for the taco soup and fresh cut corn that she froze, just for us, knowing she was going to pass. Still taking care of us, even now.

This Thanksgiving will be very different from the ones in the past.  Every Thanksgiving has been at my parent’s place.  Even when I lived far away, the trip would be made to make sure I was there with the rest of the family.  There was always so much food because Mom loved cooking for all of us.  The exception was last year when I begged to have the holiday feast at my place.  Mom and Dad reluctantly agreed and made the trip up to the big city.  It would turn out to be the last with my Mom.  My sister and her three boys were there too.  I treasure those memories.

This is the first year in my life that Mom will not be here for Thanksgiving, or Christmas.  This change is not welcome, but it is as it is and so I must adapt.  Thanksgiving is coming whether Mom is here or not.  And so this year we will spend Thanksgiving around M’s mother’s table. I am thankful for their generosity of taking us in. And no doubt there will be lots of love around that table. Truth be told Dad and I are at a bit of a loss this Thanksgiving…and holiday season in general.

But that is the thing about change – it opens up new opportunities. New ways of thinking about and doing things, and new possibilities.  This Thanksgiving may have a melancholy feel, but it can still be special.  This Thanksgiving is about love. And love is always a good thing.  Because love feeds the Human Spirit, fills in all of our cracks and makes us stronger.

14,000 Miles

Regular car maintenance, we all do it.  Unless we want to be stranded on the side of the road because the engine exploded, we get the oil changes, tires rotated, fluids topped off.  Just like the DMV, it is a necessary evil that must be endured.  I am lucky that the place I take my car is pretty honest and they know I know a bit about cars (thanks Dad).  But even I was surprised when the technician asked “14,000 miles since your last oil change in June?!?  Where have you been driving?”

You can travel a lifetime in fourteen thousand miles. In those miles I have traveled several.  What started out as simply assisting Mom during recovery from a minor procedure ended up as so much more.  And that seems several lifetimes ago already.

In 14,000 miles I have traveled to heartaches door and back.  I have carried more love and compassion than all the luggage in the world could hold.  Each mile, each inch, each centimeter, has paralleled each beat of my heart.

I have traveled to confusion, and denial and desperation and fear and loss.  I have visited darkness and knelt humbly at faith’s doorstep.  I have sat, hunch over, crying, sobbing, begging, pleading, admitting that I don’t know how to do this, how to watch my mother pass, how to be strong enough to be the leader, how to be what is needed for this task. I have prayed for wisdom, and grace, and compassion and understanding, and patience; sometimes failing, sometimes not.

In those miles I have bargained, promised, negotiated, fought, and bled my soul.  I researched the best course, sacrificed sleep because it was not important, and seen acceptance in the nurses expression when they looked into my eyes and knew the term “visiting hours” did not apply to me. I have prayed that as much as I love her, please, please let her not suffer.  I have broken my own heart into minuscule shards, trembling, as I prayed for it to be peaceful.

I have seen compassion and true heartbreak watching my father.  And I have witnessed the truest love, watching them the last time they interacted.

In 14,000 miles, I have seen the most beautiful and striking rainbows, as rays of hope break through the clouds. I have seen eyes look into mine with love and compassion, shoulders that truly are strong enough for me to cry on, arms that are strong enough to protect me, and gentle enough to be shelter. In those miles, I have seen how blessed I am to have a wonderful man and partner who is willing to be there, even when I am so terrified that I cannot stand to be in my own company. And then seen him stay and stroke my hair so I sleep in peace.  I have carried whispers and secrets and writings, and journals, and anger, and fear, and love and joy and everything that is life in those miles.

There have been miles of boxes packed. moved and unpacked.  There have been countless sleepless nights, up planning and figuring, writing and praying.  There have been men payed, volunteers asked, friends talked to and letters written.  Interviews and jobs declined and accepted, tasked completed and left undone. There have been pictures taken and voice mails saved, phones traded and flowers smelled.  There have been countless meals cooked and eaten, many bottles of wine and water and coffee.  There have been long goodbyes and short visits, lengthy conversations and easy decisions and heavy burdens. There have been cards and songs, and work and play. And love, most of all.

Fourteen thousand miles is a short distance for where I have traveled and returned. And when you think about all of that in 14,000 miles, it is humbling to think of how many miles are traveled in our time on Earth, and by how many travelers.

And in the miles ahead, I see that the road is rich with hope and dreams, and love, and kindness and all the good that can be held around the next bend. And it makes me wonder what the next miles have in store.  Just like looking at the blank pages of a new journal, I am inquisitive about the future. Even when the road is long and hard, we must never lose our hope, our wanderlust, our curiosity, our sense of wander or our optimism. We must always strive to learn and grow and be better.

Yes, I saw all of this flash before me, in an instant when the technician asked that simple question.  I just said “I had a family illness that required a lot of driving.” He smiled kindly and said he was sorry to hear. Then he rang me up and went on his way down his road, continuing his journey.  And so it goes.