Shaking Off a Little Dust

Today I found out someone I care a great deal about is losing her great grandmother.  I have watched all of my grandmothers leave this world, unable to cling onto the ones they love most... their granddaughters and grandsons, their own children.... their "familiar loves".  It breaks my heart, knowing now that I'm on the flip side, never going backwards to the place where unconditional, loving embraces wrap around, hold and protect and where life holds a certain untouchabe innocence.

I also know that I have several friends whose lives are at a crossroads.  And as much as I would LOVE to try diving in and rescuing them... I know they have to go through the fire, to a certain extent, alone.  Unable to hang on to any one else's securities.  Unable to hold onto hands to pull them out of the quagmire.  They have to somehow figure out where to go from "here".  Like we all do when life throws its curve balls and road blocks our way.

We can support and love and encourage each other, but basically, we each have our own paths to walk.

I remember once, I was so worried about one of my sons.  So I called my mom, asking for advice.  I'll never forget her saying that we are all on our own path, all of us walking our own journeys, even though we share the same space.  No matter how hard I try, I can't shelter my own flesh and blood from the frailties and the pitfalls of "life".  I can't keep them from experiencing pain or failure, trauma, disappointment.  I can try to soften the blows, lessen the punches.  But basically, there comes a point where I have to surrender and trust that they are strong enough, capable and very much able to  rise above.  We all come out on the other side.  Somehow.  Even when it feels like we'll never be able to inhale again without help of some kind.

I'm inspired daily.  By those who could easily stop trying.  By those who could choose to give up on life, on themselves, on love..... but they somehow manage to find a way to pull up their bootstraps and show the rest of us how to be brave.

I'm feeling blessed by life's tragedies and how they are sometimes the most powerful ways to find connection and common threads running through our lives.  Threads that tie us together, weave us into something better, more beautiful.

"Cheers" to a brighter day.  And may we all be lucky enough to recognize the pearls that can be dusted off through hardship and trial.

Complexities

I can’t imagine it.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass and think… “Who is this?  Who is SHE?” I don’t recognize her anymore. Tired eyes. Sagging skin. Eyes more dead than alive. Crow's feet. Thinning hair.

Age seems to be taking away rather than lending to. And I’m lost within myself, unable to find a way back out or at least “through”.

I can’t imagine it.

What my mother must feel. Waking up each morning and looking inside the mirror. Does she ask… “Where did she go? Where’s the young girl I used to be?” Does she recognize who she is or does she see beyond the image staring back?

I can’t imagine it. 

Twenty three years from where I am. Did she struggle as I continue to struggle? Did she walk precariously close to the ledge while contemplating what things time dragged her through? Did she wrestle with the demons who whispered in her ear, “Your good days are gone. So are the qualities once deemed pretty.” Youth… a shadow on the ground stretching out further and further, getting lost in murky shadows.

I can’t imagine it.

Knowing my own transition through the middle years. Is she fighting it all again, for the second time around? Or has she surrendered to grace? Has she accepted the beauty she emits in the here and now? 

Maybe it’s time to stop looking beyond what I see. Go deeper. Dig through the skin, the muscles and bones and to the very center…. Into the place that is real. That has always been real. The part that continues to stir my soul into action, into love. The part that keeps me placing one foot in front of the other. Maybe that holy of holies inside my mother’s soul is where she manages to remain intact, unchanged by changes. Far removed from the desire to be young and attractive again. 

I can’t imagine it.  But I try.

Falling From the Sky

I hate to admit, but in a way, I proudly admit it.  I sometimes want to jump off this carousel ride.  The logical me tries to remind myself of all the good.  The great friends.  My children.  My family.  Those who are constant reminders that life is so much more harsh to them than it is to me.  Who am I to whine?
Yet there I sit.  Alone in the dark, crying.  Wishing I could dive off a cliff or bridge and be done with a world that hardly ever makes sense to me.
I won't.  I know I won't.  But I admit I'm human and I have the thoughts.  But I also know I have the kind of love that somehow, mysteriously fell from the sky when it was least expected. 

In particular, I'm thinking about Little Miss Em, my very own Strawberry Shortcake.  Life was just going along being life when all of a sudden a new little person entered my world and made me aware that there are these incredible moments that happen throughout all the dips and curves and bumps we endure.  Within one day, life becomes something completely different than what you've known, what you could possibly imagine.
I was reminded, gently "nudged" today that quite often, people come into your life completely unexpectedly and feel like they've always been part of your make-up, like they just appear - falling seemingly from the sky.  Part of your bigger whole.  But nothing inside your brain cells ever gave warning that they were on their way in through your door and into your heart.
What a difference a day makes.
I've been so wrapped up in feeling alone over the holidays, without my kids, without my granddaughter, without my friends from back home...  I hope I learn someday how to master my darker thoughts.  How to ride them like waves of the ocean and then arrive safe and sound on dry land, seeing life with a bit more freedom, perspective and a lot more optimism.