…a passing. A quiet exit: a labored curtsy, a smile. I keep seeing her in that photo from the week before, at the birthday of her two granddaughters. I think this is how I will see her from now on, old, frail, and laughing with eyes closed, hands on her lap, wedding ring on, cross sitting on her bosom, surrounded by that small part of the world that was of her own making, loved, hated, loved again, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother. This is a strange sadness, diffuse, dull, erratic, unpredictable- I miss her so. I miss knowing she was there, in her dark home, head stooped, eyes long blind, but there where I could reach out and touch her-
In the casket, a white gardenia was set at the side of her head in that bed of white chrysanthemums where she lay. I still wonder who left it there.
…a sense of growing up – agony replaced by satisfaction replaced by panic replaced by relief. You can do it; must do it or no one else will; have done it; will have to do it again; Learning you alone are there to give the pep talk and pat your own back when all is said and done. Life is finally here, and now.
…a little boy with bouts of assorted phobias. We have resolved to stay calm, let him explore the world and embrace the fear it sometimes inspires so he can walk past it, and be brave and strong. I am writing in the journal I keep so I can one day hand him a small piece of his very young life: put one hand around your fear and use the other to push your way through life.
…a night on the beach, under a full moon. How lucky we are to have access to such simple beauties – a relaxed conversation with friends, sand between your toes, our kids scampering around, small bites held tight in their tiny indifferent hands, a cool breeze like a whispering of reassuring words- It’s time to give thanks for what we have been given.