Ach.
I know I've been bad about keeping up with this blog. I've actually written a couple of posts that I've ended up not posting after all this last week, despite the fact that they were destined to win multiple literary awards and would make the world fall in love with me. They were well-meaning posts, but quite honestly were written mostly under the influence of either too much wine or too much emotion so my newfound maturity (stop laughing - there is always some form of newfound maturity in my life) would not let me post them. For my wine-stupored or emotion-stupored self they were absolutely amazing though, and covered topics such as the politics of help (spurred on by Liz from As the Tumor Turns) and altruism and whether there really is such a thing (the latter even included Nietszche and all kinds of deep thinking pretensions).
Ultimately, although they were amazing in my little mind, they weren't going to change the world, so rest assured that all is as it would have been anyway. In case you were worried.
My mom's sister Sandra Holloway, died from esophageal cancer a week ago Friday. I've been remembering the times I spent at her house with my dear cousin Kim when I was growing up. I remember our attempts at creating new recipes in her kitchen - she pretty much gave us free reign. And lordy did we get creative. As a homemaker now, and now better understanding her need to hold onto control of her home and to be an exquisite hostess, the fact that she let her daughter and me run free in her kitchen for a weekend means very, very much to me. I remember her beautiful home and the nights with Kim reading "The Wizard of Oz" and learning that you can fill the bathtub to near overflowing (I'd not been brave enough to do that myself until my cousin showed me you could do it and still survive) and the trampoline in the backyard, and something about neighbors that would sunbathe nude outside (this is all hazy memory to me and I don't know what is real and what is the wishful thinking of two little girls). I remember her taking us to see "The Sound of Music" in the theater and I was bowled over that they actually had an intermission in the theater (THE MOVIE THEATER) with red curtains. I remember when I was older, thinking how much she reminded me of my mom and of her other sisters, and I thought the bond the four sisters shared was so very special. Aunt Sandra, you were elegant until the last breath you took.
I spent today thinking about friend K as they put a new contract on a house up in Wisconsin (WINCONSIN! - That is such a long way from here). I have tried to hide my tears from my other friends but finally decided that was impossible (dear friend M saw me in the front yard with K's dog Hobie and with red eyes from a few hours of tears). All this is because of love. Love of children, love of community, love of each other.
I've been snowed under by the intermingling of love and loss this week.
And then I was driving to pick up my son from a birthday party with his very good friends today and listenening to my favorite song from Five for Fighting, and looking at the clouds and the wildflowers on the side of the road made me cry just because they were. We're all connected whether we believe that a god connects us or that a universe connects us. Doesn't matter.
So that's where I am. Cherishing every friendship that is out there - every connection from human to human or lifeform to lifeform (I'm dogsitting multiple dogs this weekend so feel the need to include those sweet lifeforms in my blubberings.) The touch of another human, or the laugh or the encouraging smile - that is what keeps me going.
I know I've been bad about keeping up with this blog. I've actually written a couple of posts that I've ended up not posting after all this last week, despite the fact that they were destined to win multiple literary awards and would make the world fall in love with me. They were well-meaning posts, but quite honestly were written mostly under the influence of either too much wine or too much emotion so my newfound maturity (stop laughing - there is always some form of newfound maturity in my life) would not let me post them. For my wine-stupored or emotion-stupored self they were absolutely amazing though, and covered topics such as the politics of help (spurred on by Liz from As the Tumor Turns) and altruism and whether there really is such a thing (the latter even included Nietszche and all kinds of deep thinking pretensions).
Ultimately, although they were amazing in my little mind, they weren't going to change the world, so rest assured that all is as it would have been anyway. In case you were worried.
My mom's sister Sandra Holloway, died from esophageal cancer a week ago Friday. I've been remembering the times I spent at her house with my dear cousin Kim when I was growing up. I remember our attempts at creating new recipes in her kitchen - she pretty much gave us free reign. And lordy did we get creative. As a homemaker now, and now better understanding her need to hold onto control of her home and to be an exquisite hostess, the fact that she let her daughter and me run free in her kitchen for a weekend means very, very much to me. I remember her beautiful home and the nights with Kim reading "The Wizard of Oz" and learning that you can fill the bathtub to near overflowing (I'd not been brave enough to do that myself until my cousin showed me you could do it and still survive) and the trampoline in the backyard, and something about neighbors that would sunbathe nude outside (this is all hazy memory to me and I don't know what is real and what is the wishful thinking of two little girls). I remember her taking us to see "The Sound of Music" in the theater and I was bowled over that they actually had an intermission in the theater (THE MOVIE THEATER) with red curtains. I remember when I was older, thinking how much she reminded me of my mom and of her other sisters, and I thought the bond the four sisters shared was so very special. Aunt Sandra, you were elegant until the last breath you took.
I spent today thinking about friend K as they put a new contract on a house up in Wisconsin (WINCONSIN! - That is such a long way from here). I have tried to hide my tears from my other friends but finally decided that was impossible (dear friend M saw me in the front yard with K's dog Hobie and with red eyes from a few hours of tears). All this is because of love. Love of children, love of community, love of each other.
I've been snowed under by the intermingling of love and loss this week.
And then I was driving to pick up my son from a birthday party with his very good friends today and listenening to my favorite song from Five for Fighting, and looking at the clouds and the wildflowers on the side of the road made me cry just because they were. We're all connected whether we believe that a god connects us or that a universe connects us. Doesn't matter.
So that's where I am. Cherishing every friendship that is out there - every connection from human to human or lifeform to lifeform (I'm dogsitting multiple dogs this weekend so feel the need to include those sweet lifeforms in my blubberings.) The touch of another human, or the laugh or the encouraging smile - that is what keeps me going.
4 comments:
Yes, when those moments come, it's so emotional. I suppose we couldn't live with it 24-7. Then it would all become taken for granted. I love life.
You hit it--I trust that connection among us. Who cares what it "really" is? What's "really" anyway? I've said before that Love and Loss is about it. That's what it is about. And you got big doses of it lately. HUGS. I bet those other posts were damn good, too, girl.:-)--LT
Glad to have you back :) I'm burning you a Goodtime-feeling music CD, so look for it in a few days. Maybe it will make you smile.
It sounds like you're having an emotional week... Im sorry for the loss of your aunt, but I'm glad you're taking joy in friendships and relationships :)
"They were well-meaning posts, but quite honestly were written mostly under the influence of either too much wine or too much emotion so my newfound maturity (stop laughing - there is always some form of newfound maturity in my life) would not let me post them"
Hee. A woman after my own heart.
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