It does get better.
Grief is slow in its passage. There are days when you don’t notice it, days when you can feel its sluggish movement. There are even days when you’ve thought it gone altogether only to get slammed by a remembrance of what you have lost. However it does get better.
Right now I’m going through compounded grief. I see that as the loss of too many things in too short a time. For me it began in the fall of 2019 with a diagnosis of cancer to present day (September 2021). During these two years, there has…
Would we all be a bit happier?
Supper the other evening was quite simple and easy. The ingredient list went like this:
I didn’t toast the bagels as they were fresh from the store bakery and nice and soft. Just a bit of mayo on both sides. For the eggs, for the two of us — my mister and me — I used three large eggs. I’m very fortunate as I get to have fresh eggs from our daughter’s little home farm. It’s sometimes amusing when I open the carton and see the various…
A two-part thought.
I’ve been thinking about grief a lot lately. This is Part One of a thought.
My first thought is that grief drowns creativity. It claims a priority hold on the mind and the heart, most especially when it is fresh and new. It makes thinking difficult and nearly brings the decision-making process to a halt.
Grief can drain color from the sky and the trees and make food tasteless. It also drains energy, making every footfall an effort of sheer will.
I wonder why this is so?
I would think that writing in a journal, when the…
Ten happiness ideas.
What would make me happy:
And what a poetic thought it was.
My mister and I watched a movie the other evening about the Apollo 11 moon landing. We hadn’t watched it in some years and he was nostalgic. Besides, it was his turn to pick what we watched.
We have this thing, my mister and I, that we watch something on tv while having supper and for about an hour after. About two hours in the evening. Sometimes George, our parrot, joins us (silly bird loves the tv) and sometimes not. He has his “daytime” cage in our bedroom where he hides from predators…
We were riding along in the automobile with no particular place to go. I was in the back seat, Harry in the front passenger seat and Ronald was driving. It was Ron’s car and it was Harry who had suggested we drive up the coast. I said what a fabulous idea, and let’s have lunch at some beach place. And off we went.
It was a nice day. Not hot, even though it was mid-summer, because we were traveling on the coast road. A nice ocean breeze kept the temperatures down which made it so pleasant we had all the…
It is many things, but it is not a disease.
See that photo? Notice the graceful lines and polished edges. When I picked it up the wood was soft; softened by the many washings of tide and time. It was obviously old, but it was very beautiful.
I read something the other day that really got my dander up. Some person was writing about something and used the phrase “…the disease of old age...” I went on to read more and sure enough, this writer was equating the process of aging itself to being a disease. …
It would be funny if it wasn’t nearly true.
Bagels know their place in the scheme of things. Especially the plain ones. The Blueberry and Cinnamon Raisin bagels get made such a fuss over as the la-de-dahs of breakfast cuisine. And don’t even get a conversation started about Everything Bagel…bagels. Pahleaze. So overrated.
No, the plain bagel knows it has an honored place in the pantheon of baked goods. What is that, you wonder? Sandwiches. They are perfect for sandwiches.
But let us not get ahead of our story.
There is a bakery in the town where The Mister goes…
At least that is what it felt like.
A kind of death. A murder of self. How does one navigate this type of trauma?
I was standing in the doorway of my husband’s den; didn’t even remember getting up from the sofa and walking there. At that point of the journey that spot of the sofa, my spot, was the one place in the whole house where I could be comfortable, except at night in bed.
We’d had to turn my den into a sick room for the duration of my treatment. It was the only way for my husband…