But today is one of those ubiquitous cultural days when fathers are the main topic of conversation. I’ve found myself thinking of my father quite often lately. Even though he and my mother had been apart for 20 years before he died in 2013, in my mind they are still inextricably linked. I think it has to be that way to some degree: after all, it was their partnership that created me and nurtured me to adulthood, that set me on my own particular course of life. They were my Parents.
Butterflies
Butterflies are everywhere at the hospice care center where my mother died. They adorn the walls in hanging sculpture, and are tucked away in planters and wind chimes throughout the gardens surrounding the building. According to hospice literature, butterflies symbolize the transformation from one life to the next.
The Upswing
Do you know the feeling you get when you’ve been sick with the flu, achy and shivering with fever, and then, miraculously, the fever “breaks,” and your chills turn to a warm, sweaty flush?
You open your eyes and see clearly for the first time in days. You can take a deep breath without collapsing into a barrage of coughing. You crave cinnamon toast or hot chicken soup. You want a hot shower and some clean clothes.
That’s how I feel today. After the past week of suffering (“I am not mourning, I am suffering,” wrote French philosopher Roland Barthe about his mother’s death), today I am peaceful, even a little bit hopeful that life may one day resume it’s luster. I’m getting familiar with the drill, this wild ride of grief. Today is a good day.
Perhaps it was the catharsis of writing yesterday’s post.
Maybe it was planting flowers last night, the physical exertion of digging holes and placing the tiny plants into the ground, settling them into the soil and cupping it firmly around them.
It could simply be the healing warmth of summer sun, or the vastness of blue sky that today looks promising instead of punishing.
Whatever the reason, I accept today's gift of equilibrium with gratitude.
Like the Sky
Sometimes I hesitate to write about Grief, about the way my life is these days. I don’t want to constantly put my sadness into a world that already has plenty of sadness. Still, Grief is the vein that runs through everything I am and do right now. There is no getting around it, there is only getting through it. This is what takes all my energy.
Two of Us
My favorite Beatles song is off the Let It Be album, but it’s not the title track, or Long and Winding Road, even though I love both of those. My favorite song is Two of Us. The first time I heard it I was in desperate puppy love with one of my distant cousins, a young man I saw only in the summers when he came “up north” to visit our family. The song spoke to me as a 13-year old getting her first glimpse of what it felt like to be that someone special in a relationship of two.