You may be glad to know that I have sought out support for my grieving and the big losses of this past year. Thing is…in short, I’ve been given permission to write it out, paint it out, cry it out, sand it out…do it out…whatever it takes. I guess it’s not for others to judge the form that grief takes in others, so don’t worry on the mornings when you see twenty blog entries…it’s my manic grief finding expression…and if I can find a way to breath, then my readers can as well. I guess I’m asking you not to suggest when to empty my closets. Thing is, you folk need to know that I’m not sharing my dark nights with you here…in fact, the only clue you really should have that something is going on, is the extent of my writing. I’m keeping a private journal for the dark moments. I’m painting a mandala for my mother in the deadly quiet moments. I’m painting again. (Thanks, Mom.)
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
Action is key in my life…taking action of any sort that is not harmful to others is typically alright with me. I’m not one to have in my language, words like boredom, fear or helplessness. I’m all about ‘doing something’ about everything. It will be helpful though, if I have the support of my family and friends as you observe this very phenomena…it is likely not that unfamiliar to you, in regards to ‘moi’…please don’t judge me because if I feel I need to do something differently ‘for your comfort’, then I will struggle needlessly. I’m tending, lately, to be alone…at home, but also in crowds.
I am the one who is NOT contributing to a conversation, and when I am, I am not doing it very well.
I am the one who is arguing with confrontational atheists, likely because they are rattling the cage of the very thing that is getting me through this, my faith.
I am the one who is booking into countless programs in the city…more so than ever before, if that is possible, as a way of not staying home where I hear every now and then, “Oh, it’s time to skype with Mom.”
I am the one who is blogging about ridiculous things and taking photographs of step-by-step recipes.
I am the one who is enforcing by-laws about back yard fire pits and front yard cats.
I am the one who becomes confused over more than two instructions/directions and I am the one who will stare blankly at you, rather than ask for clarity.
I am the one who loses track of the number of cups of coffee I have sipped while watching birds at my bird feeder, wrapped in Mom’s flannel nightie…and in her flannel house coat…ten sizes too large, but, as close as I can physically get to her.
I am the one who could not host a Thanksgiving feast at my feast table this year because Elma would not be there…for the first time in a zillion years…because this year, as my own mother was battling pneumonia, dearest Elma was quietly slipping into the arms of heaven also.
The news of the world continues to roll…a giant super storm on the other side of the world, gives me pause and I bow my head for strength for India. So many mothers. So much loss. But still…in all of this…there is BOUNTY. Here, I am warm…I am sheltered…I am well-fed…I am blessed with my three beautiful children. There is bounty everywhere I look. This year in Alberta, a bumper crop for the farmers. The fields look glorious this harvest. The trees are golden and the sky, blue. I am safe and blessed.
I received a phone call from Bobby…spoke with Bee…messaged Adrienne…left a voice mail for Mary-Lou…spoke to Yvonne on telephone…made a cell phone call to daughter, Cayley, on the coast…chatted with Glo and Bill Webb…skyped with Dad and Val, JP and Eliane and Louis…texted Margy. Wendy asked, “How was today?” and…invited me to Beanos. The circle of friendship continues to close around me. It seems that a feast table is a metaphor for something much larger.
With gratitude, I went to my daughter and son-in-law’s for dinner…we prepared a whole wad of recipes we have never enjoyed as a tradition at the feast table. I have collected some images here. It was a wonder-time with Erin, Doug and thankfully, James. I feel blessed.
Highly recommend this one!
For me, too sweet…less honey than called for!