Billy Joel, you had it right

I went to a viewing at a funeral home yesterday.  I don't like viewings.  I think they are one of the most marvelously awkward situations a person can be put in.  But I think it's necessary and right to go and talk to people when bad things happen.  So I go.

The person in question yesterday is not someone I knew well at all.  She is related (in a complicated way which is not pertinent to my story) to a man who is my uncle by marriage.  She's not much younger than me, and I remember that as a child we would play often when I was at my aunt and uncle's house.  I've seen her a handful of times in the past few years.  She met Tiny Man at a family party, and also came to the funeral home and funeral when we said goodbye to him. 

What strikes me and makes me feel this loss so deeply is how caring and how kind she was to me and to Tiny Man.  The things she said to me after the funeral, in the few seconds I said hello to her, were among the most comforting and kindest things I heard that day.  I was so very touched by her words.  I was left with the impression that I had met few people in this world as caring as her.  I was surprised not because I didn't think she had it in her, but because I hadn't seen her in so long; didn't know her very well at all, and here she was crying with me over my son.  It stuck with me. 

Her partner was diagnosed with a fatal illness earlier this year, and it is my understanding that she may not see the new year.  They have a son, six years old, who will lose both parents to illness...sudden illness....in a short amount of time. 

I am asking the obvious question: why? 

I don't know why this is hitting me so hard, but I cannot stop thinking about the unpredictability of life, the way that it doesn't work out the way it's supposed to, and the way that it can be unfair.  One of the things I hate about the holidays is that they can, and often do, bring out the worst in people.  Stress, trying to live up to expectations we set for ourselves, dealing with family who we may not like: it can make someone crazy.  You all know what I mean...you see it all the time in the woman who yells at the store clerk for no reason.  The person who snips at you in line.  Anyway....in the past few months I have seen and heard my share of drama.  Some had to do with the holidays, some is just people who are selfish, egocentric, rude and classless.  Do I think that they deserve to be the ones touched by tragedy instead of my friend?  No, I wouldn't say that.  But I do always wonder why people who seem to rise above it all...the ones who take life in stride...the ones who are kind and caring...why them instead?  Because doesn't it always seem to be them?

I know that sounds terrible.  And I know what it SOUNDS like I am saying...but really, it's hard for me to make sense of it. I'm not terribly religious, so I'm not going to get into the metaphysical side of all this, but I do think that there is an order and a reason to life.  When Tiny Man was born we had a few people shake their heads and wonder aloud why hubby and I had to deal with this.  My answer was and is always the same: because we were right for it.  We love each other, we have families who love us and support us, and we were able to take care of him.  We were right for him.  We were picked.  I'll never stop thinking that I was chosen to be his momma. 

So is this the same?  Is there a greater lesson here?  Is there a reason for this tragedy?  I don't know.  I do know that I have learned some lessons about kindness and the way it touches other people, and I intend to put that to good use. 

In the meantime, give an extra thought, whether it be a prayer or some warm energy, or just a moment of your day to these people, especially that little boy.  He has family and will be well cared for...but my hope is that he has learned kindness and knows what kind of people his parents are and were.  Let's hope that he grows up to be kind and strong. 

On the longest night

The past couple of years have made it clear to me that I am fond of "hunkering" when it gets cold.  Long about November or so, I start making like a bear...getting ready to hibernate.  I would be pretty happy, I think, if I could just order in all winter and hunker down in my house to wait out the cold and dark. 

Monday was the winter solstice.  The sun rose here (by my eye) after seven thirty in the morning, and set around four-ish.  It always amazes me that this day is the turning point, because the months of January and February always SEEM the longest, darkest days to me....they are, however, well on the road back to the light. 

I find myself more reflective in the winter time...and it seems natural.  If you thin about life in general, when things happen they force us to take a good long look at life, it seems as if we are dealing, and dealing and dealing...things get darker and darker and darker, then we hit rock bottom.  Thus begins the long road back or forward to wherever we will wind up.  It parallels the solstice pretty neatly. 

Christmas has been about many things for me in the past.  Getting presents, giving presents.  Trying to get presents on a budget so limited I wasn't sure how things would work out.  Being able to give generously.  Not being able to give at all.  Being with family when I didn't want to be...not being with them when I needed to be.  This year it's all about the hunkering.  I don't want to be out shopping, hustling, bustling; getting all riled up at the marvelously stupid and insensitive people in this world.  Complaining about everything I have to do.  I want to hunker down, with some hot beverage, my Toast and my Hubby.  Watch some movies.  Do a little baking and crafting.  Hang out with my parents and my remarkably hilarious and talented sister on the 25th.  Wrap gifts in secret and listen to carols while I do it.  Sit back and watch my amazing boy and listen to what he has to tell me. 

And after Christmas, I will take the time in the darkest part of the year to think about where I want to be in the future.  What I can do with my life.  I will take time to plan out what I want this year to be like.  I will remember my Tiny Man.  I will probably cry more than once because I miss him so damn much...I do this a lot.  In the winter, though, the time to think is more plentiful.   

Happy Solstice.  Merry Christmas.  Be thankful, be loving, be thoughtful. 

plugging along

Cannot. Kick. This. Darn. Cold.

I was in the store the other day and it was snowing outside. The woman in front of me was saying how she just wasn't ready for snow....it just snuck up on her. This is the one year that I feel totally ready for snow, and cold, and Christmas. I'm ready for the seasons to change. I don't know why...I mean, this year is going by so much faster than I am really ready for. I think I am, for a few years, going to be measuring the years by the anniversary of Tiny man's death rather than by the coming of January first. I'm not ready for that first anniversary, and it's bearing down on me at an alarming rate. But the coming of winter, somehow, is something I'm welcoming.

I've always enjoyed living in Michigan because of the seasons. I cannot picture living anywhere where there were not four distinct seasons...even though we have the horrible humid summers, the icy and treacherous winters, the long slog through February and March; when the world is one big bucket of cold miserable slush. I love the icy beauty of a January day after it snows six inches and the temperature drops so even the sunlight looks like icicles. I love the fall colors. I adore spring mornings when it's warm and the world is full of smells again. I can't imagine not having all that, even though I'm sure that the passage of a year in other places is amazing in it's own right.

This year I've come to mark the time passage in other ways. I've realized that instead of marking off the months in terms of school...the beginning, parent conferences, Christmas break, winter break, spring break, finals...I'm measuring time by watching Toast grow and change. The first year of life is an amazing thing. He's gone from a lump of poop and cry to a happy little person who changes every day. Some weeks he changes so much it's impossible to list all the new things that have happened. Watching a child develop is so crazy amazing and interesting....it's very difficult to put into words.

Tiny man's development was amazing for what he accomplished, through struggle and hard work. Through determination (ours) and stubbornness (his), he really did meet milestones and grow up. It was fascinating in that we saw all the stages, every little thing that had to come before every other little thing. Toast's development is equally amazing for it's speed, the things that just seem to happen overnight. So different, all so amazing.

I'm also measuring time now by greif and recovery. By measuring how many days I go between the sad days, by how many months I have until I mark a year my Tiny man has been gone. Saying goodbye is not a quick thing at all, it happens for a long time after someone you love is gone. You learn to say goodbye in a million small ways and hope that wherever they are in the universe, they hear you. I hope that the next year I can think of the passage of time in terms of healing, instead of lessoning of greif.

Fall

I have always loved autumn. It's one of the reasons I like living in Michigan, because the colors here are spectacular. Sure, it's no eastern Seaboard, no tiny town in Vermont surrounded by mountains, but it's what I love. I love the light that comes with autumn...the sky looks different, it's bluer somehow. The sunlight is different than in the middle of summer. I know the scientific reasons for this, but still it never ceases to amaze me to look outside my window and see that perfect golden day that happens every October or so...the one that makes you think "I'd like to wear corduroys and go to the cider mill today".

The house we live in now has an added advantage. This tree, above, is just magnificent in the fall. Seriously, on a cloudy, rainy day the thing practically creates it's own light. It's a Japanese Maple that was here when we moved in...and given the landscaping disasters the previous homeowners left us with, I seriously doubt it was their doing.

Living in our neighborhood presents a sort of game with Mother Nature every fall. We are surrounded by trees here. Lots of them. Our yard consists mainly of Oaks, which are beautiful and provide a lot of shade. They also hang on to their leaves like noting I've ever seen. So every year about this time we start to wonder...should we rake? If we rake too early, more leaves fall and the leaves in the yard to the north of us always blow onto our lawn...meaning more work. If we wait too long everything gets wet then snowed on and the job in the spring is tantrum-worthy. After four years, I'm starting to learn how things go. Trees start to turn. Then the Japanese maple turns and is a brilliant red-orange for about three days, then some big windstorm comes along and it loses all it's leaves. Then this will happen:
These are our burning bushes. They are just starting to "burn" right now. I've learned that if we wait until they are totally red before starting to rake, we're pretty safe. If they've dropped their leaves, even better.
That is, of course, if it doesn't rain....which is another problem entirely.

Done at Last

In my knitting world (and on a much lighter note than last post), I have finally finished this blanket I started last november. It is lovely, and I really love it. It was endless stockinette, however...it's a log cabin pattern from "Mason Dixon Knitting". I have learned several things from this experience, not the least of which is I am NOT an endurance knitter....I really prefer small, portable projects. I like socks, I have discovered, hats are nice, mittens are okay. Alas, I have another blanket of the same type on the needles, but it is a baby blanket and much smaller in size. Should be okay, I think.

This is the first year in a long long time that I have been excited about spring coming. I always used to love spring...in College it meant not freezing my ass off while biking to class. Then I started teaching and it just meant teenagers crankily awaiting spring break...then returning surly and unwilling to do anything for anyone, awaiting graduation. Now I remember what a joy it is to watch the snow melt, smell the ground, and watch flowers poke out. It's nice to be aware of these things again. Seeds are ordered, and I"m looking foward to the garden this summer. I'm looking forward to planting, watching things grow, and taking the Tiny Man outside for a poke around the plants in the afternoon. Looking forward most to being able to go outside again and take a walk. I need it...I need some fresh air, and Tiny Man could use it too. Hubby wanted to go for a walk tonight, but since I have band, not so much. Maybe tomorrow, when it is supposed to be in the mid sixties (!).

Tomorrow is a big day, again....I am going to drop off notice that I am taking another year of leave from work. I have never been so content as to be at home. I enjoy the days with tiny man, I enjoy being able to take life at a slower pace and answer to no one but myself. And Tiny man really is showing the benefits of the arrangement, too. He's doing well. It does feel odd not to work, though. I mean not to go to some destination to work each day. I'm still working: at home, tutoring, one day a week out of the house while mom watches Tiny Man. But it's different....and there isn't the infernal and unending pile of papers to be graded, phone calls to be made, things to be set up, prepared, torn down, put away...for a host of kids who may or may not care, on this day, what is going on.