Archives for posts with tag: saying goodbye
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Finding Peace

March 1, 2025 //
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Grief has its own time, its way of guiding us down a path. It’s not always obvious that the way out is through. Yesterday I took time to really grieve the loss of my Dear Friend, with my whole heart and nothing else on my mind. I needed that. Somewhere along the way I found my peace with it. I still miss her, sure, I always will. That’s appropriate. She was a good friend and our friendship endured almost thirty years of growth and change and even the break-up of my relationship with her first born.

The crocuses have begun to bloom.

I got home at a decent hour. Made my Traveling Partner a late lunch. Got a little gardening done. Evening came and dinner was a pleasant family affair, just the three of us, nothing fancy. My beloved had been busy with something in the shop that clearly had his attention. It’s easy to respect that; I’m delighted to see him on his feet and productive again.

As evening closed in on bedtime, my beloved came to me with a gift. A beautiful lithophane of a wild rose, framed in a light-box, originally (long ago) planned to be a gift for my Dear Friend. It was one of the first CNC projects started in my Traveling Partner’s shop, but had proved to be more complicated than originally expected as designed, and then circumstances pushed it to the side, unfinished. Time passed. Too much time passed, the opportunity to give the gift was lost.

I loved the lithophane more as a thing he was making than the potential gift it represented. I had taken the photo, a favorite picture of a rose. The interest in lithophanes as an art form was mine, too. The potential to be a gift was a way to see the thing done; it felt too complicated and frivolous to just ask for such a thing. So much work involved. Here it was, in his hands, finished, his gift to me to help heal my heart, a fitting moment of closure to a year of grief, this gift that began as an idea of a gift for a dear friend, becoming a gift for me. A demonstration of my Partner’s enduring love. I hadn’t expected it. I wept tears of joy and love and the day felt complete in a way I hadn’t expected it could.

I know my partner felt his own grief and regret that he’d never finished the lithophane, most particularly that he hadn’t finished it in time to give it to my Dear Friend. She’d have loved it, I’m sure; she loved every gift I gave her, and especially those that he had made for her. It would have joined the happy clutter of the many little things she didn’t have room for, along with paintings I’d given her over the years (which have now come back to me). I hope my beloved found his own peace in finishing the lithophane. I know I’ll cherish it always.

I know just where I’ll put it.

Grief has its own way, and follows its own path. Mine led me to peace. Now it’s time to begin again. I wonder where this path leads?

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Categories breathe, Free Will, grief, Love, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being

A 20-Year Conversation

March 1, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about the 20 year conversation documented in my archived emails that is the friendship I shared with my recently departed dear friend. It’s finally over, and that feels… strange. Over that 20 years, (which wasn’t the entirety of our friendship, just the portion documented in email exchanges) I sent 982 emails, and she sent 712, and then there were all the replies, and many of these include additional bits of back-and-forth within their threads. We spoke of art, love, life, work, and we shared music videos, cat pictures, and snapshots from assorted vacations and trips here and there. As my dear friend aged, some technological advancements became more challenging to adopt, and sometimes her health, or mine, was an impediment to replying (or replying at length) – sometimes it was just too hard to be on the computer, or to type on our cell phone. We never failed to stay connected, to keep in touch, and to start the conversation anew in a few days, or weeks.

We often shared moments of humor, some of them quite poignant “fun/not funny” sorts of moments. Sometimes we shared our challenges, seeking each others comfort, wisdom, or perspective. Sometimes we vented, seeking nothing but understanding, a chance to be heard. Life wasn’t always easy for either one of us.

We first met back in 1995, briefly. I was introduced to her by her son, rather casually, shortly after I began hooking up with him, in the midst of my divorce from my violent first husband. I was 100% pure chaos and damage, trying to rebuild something of myself out of the emotional wreckage that remained after I left my ex-husband. I wasn’t actually in a good place for a relationship, and a 32-year-old woman dallying with a much younger man when she so obviously needed to work on her own shit wasn’t a good look – and my (not yet) dear friend called me out on it, with frankness and clarity, and without being hurtful. She wasn’t wrong. She set explicit boundaries that she wasn’t in a place to make room for me as “family” on the basis of a couple of fun weekends. My motives were not clear (not even to me, and that was part of the problem).

My relationship with her son lingered, deepened, and became something lasting. My friendship with my dear friend did, too. Life throws us some curve balls, though, and later on my romantic relationship with her first-born failed, rather abruptly and painfully. My friendship with my dear friend showed considerably more staying power (obviously, or I wouldn’t be writing these words, now). We grew to rely upon each other, to stay in touch through all our changes and ups and downs and challenges and triumphs. It’s been a blast – hilarious and joyful and fond and intellectual and fun and… g’damn it I miss her already. Shit. She was that friend who got the first look at any new art (after my Traveling Partner), the first to read my poetry manuscript (still unpublished), and often the only one to be my confidante when I struggled with my emotional wellness or mental health, or a romantic relationship, outside of therapy. Losing her feels… so lonely.

…This morning I sip my coffee and I miss my dear friend. I had sat down at my desk first thing with an amusing thought stuck in my head, after my commute to the office. I opened my email and started to share it with her… then remembered. A few stray tears spilled over, and I feel them wet on my cheeks, even now. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Fucking hell. So human. Death leaves us behind, standing on the precipice of a new beginning…

I don’t know what comes next, or what may someday “fill this space” in my heart where my dear friend’s laughter lived. I just know I’ve got to begin again…

…Some moments later, I sit back astonished to realize my dear friend and I had known each other for 29 years. Wow. More than 48% of my entire life was experienced in the context of this long association and continued dialogue. It’s no wonder I’m missing her, eh? This bit of perspective provides me an unexpected measure of comfort; it only makes sense that this hurts so much – we shared so much. I finish my coffee, and look out into the gray morning sky, thinking my thoughts…

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Categories art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, women

And Back Again

February 27, 2024 //
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I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.

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Categories breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, women

Another Day, Another Chance

February 26, 2024 //
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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 //
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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
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