I’m often kind of blue on Memorial Day, and given that I’m a war veteran who has felt the loss of many who served with me, over the years, I guess that’s not a surprise. What does surprise me is that this year, I’m not feeling that at all. I slept in and after a sound and restful sleep, woke gently to a new day filled with promise and opportunity. And here I am.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m grateful for the holiday and the long weekend.

Yesterday was odd. It began well enough, but after my walk the morning unraveled into frustrations built one upon another like a Jenga tower of aggravation waiting to tip over into rage or some ridiculously disproportionate tantrum. That didn’t happen, though, in part due to loving support from my Traveling Partner who recognized the role he inadvertently played in it, himself. His sweet concern and tender regret helped to resolve my agita before things really went sideways. He comforted me. Encouraged me to take care of myself, and was just generally the sweet caring partner I so adore. He makes minor emotional miracles (that are a major improvement) – and he makes cool fidget toys for me, too. (The newest of which I played with for hours quite happily.) 😁

After a hot shower, and a nap, I was fine. The day proceeded beautifully. My beloved picked up a project he could do in the living room and we hung out together watching a movie. My recollection of the day from the vantage point of this morning is all about the love and joy. It’s a nice change from a time when a morning like yesterday would have lead to days of struggling with my demons and trying – then failing – to manage my emotions, for many painful days (or finally choosing out of despair to drug myself into a stupor to stop the cycle of unmanageable heartbreak and fury). Years of tears are behind me. That’s okay. That too is a very human experience.

… It’s been a journey measured in years and practices…

The path behind me is what it is; in the past. The path ahead is mostly an unknown, and it will develop from the path I walk now. My choices and practices matter. (So do yours. However bad it has been, you can begin again right now and choose differently.)

I sigh quietly to myself on the edge of this literal path I’m sitting next to. Nice morning for a walk. My bones say it will rain…”soon”. The weather forecast agrees. Will it, though? Maybe. That’s the future. It changes constantly until it becomes the present, a real part of our lived experience. Until then it isn’t a given whether or not it may rain, or whether I’ll lose another friend to mortal frailty, or whether the local pharmacy will have my medication in stock, or whether a table will be available at a particular restaurant. It’s not worth getting spun up over some possible disappointment. Be present. Accept change and uncertainty, and practice non-attachment. These are extraordinarily secure stepping stones on a path through life that is fraught with obstacles and detours. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just sharing what has worked for me.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. My fingernails sparkle in the morning sun. I consider the day ahead. Vacuuming. Laundry. I think about dinner, later, and wonder whether tacos or chicken with corn on the cob sound better? My mind wanders contentedly through the ordinary. I’m okay with that. It’s Memorial Day – and I’m not crying. Instead, I feel a quiet respect and gratitude, and honor the fallen in my recollections. This year that’s enough – and I’m grateful for that, too.

I get to my feet and brush bits of grass from my jeans before I set off on the path back to the car. It’s a beautiful morning to begin again.