A Letter To The Summerlands

It was twelve years ago today that I lost my sister. I had started to write this blog recalling every detail in the hopes that by doing so, I would maybe not grieve so much today, maybe not ache so much for my loss. However, during the course of writing I realized that, even though it may have been cathartic to me, reliving every detail of that day may hurt those I love more than they are already hurting. I know the details, as do they. There is no need to write them out. But how does one do something to help themselves, to heal themselves, without causing a renewed sense of loss to others? This question was rolling around inside my head when I had an idea. Instead of remembering the grievous details of the day 12 years ago, I am instead going to write a letter to her. I am going to lay it all on the line, the positive and negatives, and hope that this process will be the balm my soul needs to heal. I have a really hard time letting go sometimes and I feel my loss as deeply today as I did that day, maybe even more so. It is time to heal, to let go completely and between this idea of a letter and something that my husband is helping me with tomorrow evening, I can only hope that it is what I need to finally heal.

Dear Teresa,
         I miss you. There are so many times when I wish so badly that I could call you on the phone, tell you of the wonderful moments in my life, like when Nesa was born, or ask your advice when I am having a hard time coping with a situation. You were always there for me when I needed you to be, just as I hope I was there for you. I am still here for you. I have watched your girls grow and become women and mothers. I have shared in their celebrations as well as their tragedies. I have tried my best to be all that you asked me to be for them. I hope I have not failed you. Sometimes I am so angry with you for not being here and at those times I feel the loss of you so much more acutely. I could have used your strength when we lost mom. I felt so alone, so afraid. It was so hard on me to be the one to find her and then not have my sister here to hold me and anchor me. I needed you. Although I will never forget the day that your grand-daughter was born, never forget the moment when your line was reintroduced back into life and the honor I felt at being there to witness it, I would have given that moment up in a heartbeat to be the one waiting in the waiting room for you to come out, tears of joy streaming down your face as you told everyone the news. In that moment, as elated as I was, I was also angry that you were not here to hold Christina's hand as her life drastically changed. I have been so angry with you for leaving me with this task on my shoulders. It was so hard to watch them grow and know that no matter how hard I tried to be there for them, it was never going to be enough because I am not you. I am not their mom. It was incredibly painful to have to sit by and watch them act out and make bad choices knowing that the reason they did so was because of their grief for you. I see so much of you in them and although it makes me smile and most of the time I can think or comment on it and enjoy the moment, there is always a part of me that wishes that they could see how much they are like you for themselves. I can tell them, but a part of me wonders if they think I just say these things to help them feel connected to you. I hope they know that that is not the case and that they really do look and act so much like you because they are a part of you. I hope they know how special that is. Then there is Mya, your grand daughter who calls me grandma. As honored as I am by the title, by the relationship between her and I, again, I would give it up in an instant if it meant that you were here to be that for her. I show her pictures of you, tell her who you are to her. One day, when she is old enough to understand I will tell her all about you. The things Christina and Kimberly were not privy to. The things only a sister knows. You taught me so much Teresa and I miss your guidance, your sense of humor and just your very presence. I have so many memories and although they have become like treasures to me, sometimes, on days like today, they haunt me even while they make me smile and laugh through my tears. I just miss you so much. I don't think I will ever stop missing you. It is so unfair and I feel so cheated and robbed sometimes that it hurts. I love you my sister. Until we meet again in the Summerlands....good-bye, Namaste my sister.

All In A Touch

I had one of those moments last night. The kind that threatens tears and makes your heart feel as if it may burst with the sheer amount of pure love pouring into it. I was holding my grandson who, lately, has been going without the much needed scratch mittens, and as I was feeding him and pulling down the hands that he insistently keeps bringing to his mouth, I noticed something. He has my hands.This is the first time I have ever noticed something about him that is also a part of me. It was a very moving moment. Logically, I can say he is a part of me, as he is my grandson, son to my daughter whom is also a part of me. But to see something on him that is the exact same as something on me was a moment of connection for me. The fact that it happens to be, aside from the eyes, my favorite part of the human anatomy, just made it so much better. The eyes may be the windows to the soul, but the hands - the hands are the tether to the heart. They are the key component of touch and they can convey so much. They can be loving, erotic, comforting, healing, helping, supporting, encouraging, educating, empowering and active. They can also, on the flip side, be idle, harmful, hurting, dismissive and threatening. Yes, the hands and their touch, their movements, can say so much. And he has my hands. It makes me wonder what he will do with them as he grows and learns and changes. Right now, at almost 4 months old, he wonders in his ability to move them, put them in his mouth, suck on them, grab hair and fingers and play with his tongue. He will do so much yet with those hands, just as I have done so much with mine and will continue to do so. This physical connection is such a little thing, but it makes such an enormous impact on me. I wonder if every grandparent experiences these moments or if I am but a small percentage in the world who have allowed the moment to completely envelope me. I hope not. I hope that all people with all sorts of connections can stop their busy lives and allow all these precious moments to completely engulf them. Today's blog has not turned out to be what I had originally planned to write about but it is obviously what I needed to write about. I must say, I am happy for it. I leave you with a quote, a thought and perhaps a connection of your own to bask in.

“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”   Thich Nhat Hanh

Namaste

Life is SO complex....or is it?

It has been a long while since I have written. There has been a lot going on around me lately and I just haven't felt that all consuming urge to write. I suppose the craziness that is the zoo of my household has just left me without the energy nor time to just sit and reflect on what it is I am doing, feeling, thinking or processing as of late. I am sitting here, it is early morning  and I have not yet finished my morning cup of tea but I am determined that something become of this blog posting today. What that something is, however, still eludes me. There is a lot percolating inside my head at the moment and some of it is just the mundane, such as what I should prepare for dinner, or the laundry waiting for my attention downstairs. Some of it is creative in nature; like trying to decide what I want to do to the gown I am in the process of making. Some of them are the result of the experiences I have been having and others have to do with the daily requirements and stresses of running a household.  All these random thoughts and I am not really sure which ones my mind will decide to latch on to for the day, So far they are all like little floating balloons with strings tied to their ends, each one waiting for me to pull that string and bring them closer for further inspection. As I sit here lost in these thoughts I can hear the birds singing their spring songs, I can feel the much warmer air outside and  I can see the tree in my front yard starting to bud. The ladybugs are out in full force, marching their way across my flowerbed and I wonder just what their plans are today. I am sure they are not nearly as complex as mine. Most likely they are thinking of getting from point A to point B in one piece and hoping to find some adequate food and shelter. Perhaps though, having to deal with constant survival is actually MORE taxing than having to wonder what to cook, or how to make a gown. We assume, because they don't have to maintain our human lifestyle, that things must be pretty easy for them and others like them. Perhaps though, without the civilities, life is actually more dramatic, more stressful and daunting. Maybe, just maybe, their lives are much harder than ours. Perhaps they all live in fear, terror that they might die at any given moment all because their surroundings are not the beauty we get to enjoy but are actually quite hostile towards them. They are constantly the easy targets of predators, they are continuously in danger of being stepped on and crushed, moved, played with and inspected by the fascination of the small children discovering their existence for the first time. They have to travel what would equate to thousands of miles to us humans just to get something to eat or find some place safe to rest. A life like this would make us so-called civilized human beings become insanely aggressive animals. So maybe all these animals that we assume have it easy because they don't have the thought patterns we are capable of, really are the ones who have it the most difficult. We just don't know, and we never will because they are not able to communicate these things to us in a manner we understand. There are so many people out there who are always complaining about the hand they have been dealt and how hard their lives are. I have been known to do it myself once or twice. This thought process really makes me feel bad for every time I have ever done so. I have WAY more opportunities available to me than that ladybug will ever have. My life is not the constant battle for survival that some of these "lesser" animals and bugs have to deal with. Food and shelter options are abundant and safe to me and I don't ever have to worry about being stepped on and crushed! So why should I get to complain? Perspective is everything and when things are looked at from a view point such as this, it really seems to change how we view our own environments, choices and opportunities and the things we consider to be too difficult to overcome.  The world can be a hostile, unforgiving place, there is no doubt about it. But instead of fearing it, or laying grievances about it, try being grateful that you are in the evolutionary position that you are in. You could have been born a ladybug.