Archives for category: grief
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Another Day, Another Chance

February 26, 2024 //
2

I’m waiting for in-room hotel coffee to finish burbling its way to being an actual cup of hopefully drinkable coffee. Oh, I know; it’ll likely be pretty crappy, but the hope exists as its own thing, and it’s worth cherishing for its own value. Hope is a good feeling. I like feeling it. Anyway, if you ask someone who doesn’t like coffee in the first place, they’ll tell you how bad it reliably is – all of it. lol. Perspective, too, is a thing that exists.

Yesterday was interesting – and precious. My dear friend woke from her unhealthy repose in the hospital, and we shared some laughs and some lucid conversation. It awoke hope in me, and put my drenching sorrow to rest, and it feels good to connect with a dear friend, even under such trying circumstances. I was also fortunate to get to visit with others dear to her, in one case gently renewing an old relationship that had fallen to circumstances, which was both unexpected and delightful. The friends who had gathered last summer, when I made my trip down the coastal highway in July, gathered again, too, and although the confines of a hotel room were not so merry as relaxing in my dear friend’s home, it almost felt like that party, once again. It was fun. It was also purposeful, as these gathered loved ones were gathering to care for my dear friend together and in turns. I am, in a sense, simply passing through their experience of saying goodbye, to have my own. All for her, this quite wonderful and very dear friend.

I upended my plans, after talking to my Traveling Partner; one more day, another chance to visit, and also a means of taking some pressure off myself to hit the road again almost immediately. It was frankly surprisingly hard on this fragile vessel to make the drive down so directly, all in one shot, in ways it definitely would not have been 3 decades ago. I sit with that thought awhile, and sip my coffee. (Is my coffee as terrible as it seemed likely to be? You don’t know that unless I tell you. Something like the pain of strangers; it probably exists, but you aren’t likely to know unless the information is explicitly shared with you. I don’t know why that feels share worthy – it’s a dark bit of perspective.)(Yes, it’s awful. lol)(The coffee. The coffee is awful.)

I woke at my usual time, this morning, after a pretty good night’s sleep. That bodes well for the trip back tomorrow. I woke missing my Traveling Partner. Missing home. Missing a reliably good cup of coffee on a lazy weekend morning, and I am rather awkwardly aware that I’ve “missed the weekend” entirely. lol I breathe, exhale, and relax – it’s an unimportant detail of the sort that can spin up a heartbreaking amount of pointless stress, so I let that go. Ridiculous bullshit is not welcome this morning. It has proven to be helpful to be open to “success” even in times of sorrow, and I’m welcoming this dawn as I welcome any other; a new day, a new beginning, a new bunch of opportunities and chances. Place your bets, roll the dice – but don’t get attached to the outcome, and don’t bet what you can’t afford to lose. Put that way, this “game” that is life looks so damned easy!! I know, it isn’t – it’s more complicated than a game, and the last hand is always a reminder that we are mortal creatures.

…Maybe this cup of coffee isn’t so bad after all? Perspective…

I’ve learned some other things visiting with my dear friend. Things about mortality. Things about nearing the end of a life. Things about dignity and comfort. Things about health and wellness. Things about… risk management. I’m glad I came down to visit my dear friend. Fucking hell I’m going to miss her, and this visit gives me much to reflect on, myself, for my own purposes, too. I chuckle to myself to realize that even now, under these circumstances, she continues to teach me things I need to know in that gentle and unassuming way she always has. I sip my coffee contentedly. It’s still quite early. I’ve got time to get a walk in, and maybe do some yoga before breakfast. Certainly, it’s time to begin again.

… The clock is ticking. What will you do with the time that is left to you?

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, women

Living the Experience

February 25, 2024 //
0

I’m sipping my first cup of (terrible) morning coffee, courtesy of this somewhat rundown hotel, part of a massive chain with a good reputation… and often less-than-impressive results. I won’t name names, it could be any chain. lol It could be any bad cup of in-room hotel coffee. I’d meant to write a few words last night, after reaching my destination, a small town on the northern California coast… I was too tired to do more than get checked-in, haul my minimal baggage (a weekend bag, and my “office on wheels” that I use for hauling my laptop and peripherals around) into my room and settle in. That hints at my age more than a little, doesn’t it? I use peripherals (a mouse, a separate keyboard…). I chuckle quietly to myself. I don’t care if my age is out there in the world, and I for sure do not prefer to sit with a laptop perched somewhere trying to type at some odd angle! lol

…I’m 60 as I sit here, and 61 in June this year. Fucking hell, the time races by…

I woke up to the buzz of a message from my Traveling Partner, awake ahead of me, with the recollection of last nights spectacular sunset in my thoughts and regretting that it was not convenient to try to get a picture of it (I was driving down highway 101 at the time, eager to finish the drive and not wanting to stop, even for a picture of a sunset). It was one of the most wonderful, most colorful sunsets I’ve ever seen. It turned the evening sky the boldest shade of deep orange, and the steely blue-turning-to-gray of the ocean peaking through the trees as I passed, and watching the sunset fade into the twilight was amazing. I wish, now, in the faint light of dawn, that I had stopped and taken a picture, to remember it for always. Here’s the thing, though; the picture is not the experience. The memory, too, is not the experience, itself. It was more important that I was watching, aware, and present in the moment that beautiful sunset occurred. Seeing a picture of it, without having seen it would be lovely, sure, but… it’s not the same as living it… and lived experiences are fleeting.

I’m just saying… don’t give up living to get a picture of the moment. “Be here, now” is not a passive endeavor. There are verbs involved. Do the verbs. Live the experience. Your experience. Time is short and it is fleeting – and we are mortal creatures. Maybe the whole fucking point is to live while we live? Eyes wide open and grabbing life with both hands and childlike wonder seems more worthwhile than getting just the right staged photo to share…somewhere, particularly on some digital platform that may not even survive the decade. My opinion. Do you.

…Well… here I am, eh? One woman, living this mortal life…

Today I’ll visit a dear friend, and say goodbye. I won’t rush it. Even this sort of moment is meant to be lived, and being present is the most precious thing I can offer my friend, now. I have no miracles on hand, but I’ll be there, 100% this woman I am; I know I am as dear to her, as she is to me. It’s enough. I take a moment for gratitude; I’m fortunate to be able to “drop everything” and be here. I’m grateful for that, and for my Traveling Partner, who is injured and still recovering, and lonely while I am away, but nonetheless encouraged me without hesitation to make this trip knowing how important this friendship has been to me, and how hard it is to say last goodbyes. I admit… I keep hoping it will somehow prove to have been “a waste of time” and that my friend will fully recover and be completely okay. I don’t even try to brush away that unlikely hope; we need to hope. It keeps us going in tough times. Our emotions are not our enemies. (Took me awhile to learn that lesson!)

…So… I sip my terrible first coffee, alert for messages from my Traveling Partner, or from a friend here locally (we’d talked about maybe getting a coffee this morning; this whole thing is hard on both of us, but she’s been here dealing with it since things went downhill for my dear friend, and it was her message that brought me here). I’m thinking my thoughts, and preparing to visit a dear friend (probably for the last time). Poignant and sorrow-filled, but it’s a friendship worth honoring, and I really don’t think I could live with the regret if I didn’t at least try to show up and say goodbye.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, women

Pause

February 24, 2024 //
0

I’m waiting for the sun. Waiting for the gate to the park to open. Waiting to get a walk in, before the many hours of driving ahead of me today. I have a headache, but I wouldn’t have missed the moment by choice; the luminous full moon hung over the marsh, lighting the mists that clung to the ground and the lakes. I sat on the hood of my car in the morning chill, listening to the peeping frogs somewhere in the grass, and smelling the scents of Spring approaching.

One beautiful quiet moment.

The gate opened, and I moved the car and got my boots on and got going. Walking with my thoughts is a practice I know soothes my heart and calms me. Yesterday’s tears become today’s resolve.

Later, I’ll head to the store and do things to ensure my Traveling Partner is comfortable while I am away and mostly able to see to his own needs for a couple days, then I’ll hit the road. It’s not a ridiculously long drive; a few hours, about the length of a work day. I’ll take breaks and put no pressure on myself to manage any particular timing. I’ll just drive, get there, and deal with the circumstances with as much grace and love as I am able to bring to it.

… Saying goodbye can be so painful…

I plan to return as I departed, patiently, with care, and cutting myself some slack on time and timing. I’ll get home and resume living life, and doing all the little things that are part of that experience. I’ll hold my partner tightly and make a point to show him how much I love him. Time is short and we are mortal creatures.

I am so grateful that I have my Traveling Partner to come home to. The thought anchors me and gives me a feeling of safety and wholeness.

Knowing that each ending is also a new beginning doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. But… I’ll go. I’ll say goodbye. I’ll return home… Then I’ll begin again.

Each dawn a new day, each day a new beginning.

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Categories breathe, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, women

Is This Good-Bye? So Soon?

February 23, 2024 //
0

Is this good-bye, old friend? So soon? I’m not ready.

I’m sitting at my desk crying for no reason; it’s not time to mourn. Not yet. It just feels potentially imminent, and I’m not ready for you to go. How selfish of me, I know. I sit here in this sort of quiet space, listening to the city noises beyond these windows and I wonder what you see, and what you’re aware of, right now. I wonder if you are in pain, and if you’re “okay”… for some values of okay… and I wonder what fills your dreams as twilight comes.

…We are mortal creatures…

You’ve been one of my truest and dearest friends for so long… missing you will be hard. I know you are surrounded by family and people who love you. I know you are not alone. I sit here with my face wet with tears and wonder if there’s time enough yet to see you again, and say good-bye properly, and if I were to do so, whether you would know.

We’ve shared many things. Experiences. Words. Laughter. Moments. You’ve “been there” for me through so many experiences. You’ve been honest, and you’ve been kind. You’ve been a mother, a sister, a best friend, an ally, a teacher… quite a package. You’ve been angry with me. You’ve loved me. You’ve offered me all the wisdom you’ve had to share, and a few jokes, too.

Letting go will be hard. I’ve got decades worth of emails and letters exchanged over time, and I cherish your words… but my life will be diminished in some detectable way, when you have gone. I can’t help but feel it, already. I find myself wondering what was the last post, here, that you read… I don’t know that it matters, at all. I wonder which one meant the most to you, and perhaps that matters a little bit… but… what matters most is simply that you’ve been such a dear friend, for so long, through so much, and I will miss you terribly.

I still catch myself hoping you’ll feel better, make a good recovery, and we’ll perhaps laugh about it later…

…It just feels too soon to say good-bye.

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Categories breathe, grief, Love, Moments, pain, Relationships, women

Be Present, Time Is Short

February 20, 2024 //
0

I’m sipping the last of my iced coffee and finishing a bowl of oatmeal. Healthier choices are on my mind a lot lately. I look out the window at the stormy looking gray sky and wonder whether the sun will come out, or the day will be rainy. It makes no particular difference, I just wonder.

The hint of blue in the morning sky reflects my mood back at me.

I’m not weeping, nor feeling bereft or despairing. I’m just a tiny bit blue, and contemplating the potential that I may be saying a final good-bye to someone dear to me, if not “soon” for sure sooner than I want to have to face it (which would frankly be not at all). We are mortal creatures. Fucking hell, doesn’t that suck all the damned ballz?? I sigh out loud and think about dear friends, far away family, and peculiarly close others that I feel, sometimes, in my day-to-day experience as “ghosts” of times past. Yes, even in spite of my fondness for solitude, I too am a social creature, and I miss those dear to me whose geographical distance keeps them from being with me “in real life” (isn’t it all “real life” though? email, text messages, phone calls… all real). I make a note to myself to reach out to more of them, more often; time is short and the clock never ever stops ticking.

…Let’s not make that a grim thought, it’s just one of many truths upon which to build our perspective…

I woke once during the night from unpleasant dreams of loss and loneliness and disconnection and mourning. I didn’t stay sad, once I woke. I had reminders of love right there, welcoming me back to the safety and comfort of home. I said a silent thank you to my Traveling Partner for the glow objects he’s added to my space alongside the art I’ve wrought over the years that also helps ground me in my “now” when I wake from a bad dream.

A lotus votive holder and a reminder that I am loved, greet my wakefulness in the night.

I take a breath, exhale, and relax, letting the lingering recollection of my dreams fall away as I watch the sky turn from moody shades of morning blue to shades of gray that threaten more rain. It’s a new day, a new week, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, winter, women
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