It's Lonely at the Top

   Coping with loss is never easy. Even though I know it is part of life, I accept it, it's still so gray and bleak. This month after my aunt is battled Covid, she was left with a residual lung disease. Yesterday, my cousins told me she would not leave the hospital.

    In October after an afternoon visit my mother's best friend, and mine, she passed away the very next day.  In November while visiting in North Carolina, I lost my aunt the day before a preplanned visit. Since I was visiting I was able to both attend the service, and support my cousins.

    These are all pivotal women in my life who have shaped, and supported me. I cannot even describe their varied gifts to me.  I'm trying to roll with the tide. I'm trying to be an adult. At the same time, it's strange to think of a world without these women guiding me?  For as long as I can remember they have been there, through almost every rite of passage. 

    I feel selfish even typing this, but at the same time it feels freeing. 

Pecking Order

  The funny thing about the "pecking order," is that it really does exist, and the one that exists in nature itself is a beautiful one to behold.  I sat for hours this weekend, lost in wonder watching these little birds and big ones happily co-exist.

    When the larger birds alighted on the feeder, and a smaller one was already there, the smaller ones inevitably fly off first.  It's as if their tiny little brains think, " It's ok. There is plenty. I will come back." One wonders why their human friends, with larger, and more sophisticated brains cannot embrace such a simple concept.

The Power of the Olfactory

    When I first started going to my counselor to deal with "mother loss," I stopped outside her office one day and smelled a very familiar scent. I came to find out that the hedge in front of her office was a boxwood. This plant/bush was in front of my grandparents brick porch in North Carolina that I used to play on as a child.

    That bush has a very light, kind of smoky smell. Immediately, when I smelled it, I was taken back to  plaid shorts, sticky legs and fireflies.  My grandparents sitting on the brick porch as we chased each other in that soft green grass while they drank cold Tabs and played Scrabble.

    On a trip to NC as an adult I managed to grab some boxwood when my siblings and I stopped by the house. My grandparents house was sold a long time ago, but we paused, and stood on the path in front of the house together each with our own set of memories. I couldn't help but wonder about the family inside, and their memories. 

WOKE

       When I see a mom pushing a silent stroller with the shade pulled down I SO remember that time. And sure, sure I get a little sentimental sometimes. In fact, I can be that sniffling soft hearted mom who gets a little torn when she sees the kids in their p.j.'s, clutching a stuffed animal, lined up for a movie night at the school. Yes, I do pause for a moment when I see a mom whispering to child in the toy section at Target. (Okay, that one is a stretch. I don't miss that).

     And every once in a while, deep in my sappiness, I get a signal that rattles my cage and snaps me out of it. I get a signal that says loud and clear,  you are blessed, and you know you wouldn't want life any other way.