Favorite Things -

I am in a "pick up your heart and brain and appreciate everything about life" mode. What? Rolling your eyes, are you? I saw that. Well it works for me.
So there. And here goes.

I like...

Listening. To my kids - John and Meg and Andy and grand Rockford. To other people.
Conclusion on this thought: I like to listen, mostly.

Hearing and Moving to: MUSIC. Van Morrison, Mark Knopfler, Bonnie Raitt, Joni Mitchell, Emmy Lou Harris, Dire Straits, Lyle Lovett, Paul Simon, Carole King, James Taylor, Fleetwood Mac, Eva Cassidy.
That is just a start.
Do NOT ask me to put them in order of LIKE.

Discovering. Anything. Especially if something new.. Meaning I forget I know about some things. Meaning I am often easily delighted.
Ha. Ha. I know that is what you were doing just then. Laughing at me. That is just fine.

Because another thing on this list is...
Laughing. Hearing it. Doing it. Causing it.

Remembering. What I forgot. What it was like to be a young mom. And memories in general. They are so sweet. Especially the good ones. The others... pfft, they are OVER.

Breathing. In crisp, cold, fresh air. And I like breathing in general as well. I find it important to daily life.

Looking. At African Violets. Up into the trees. Across an expansive valley. At anything Yosemite. At Rockford. The Sky - daytime, nighttime, any weather, anytime.

Watching. Trees sway. The staid and solitary 'praying mantis'. Ladybugs. Bees. Owls. Flowers nodding. Birds as they take flight. Birds landing. Birds watching the world around them. Birds hopping. Birds in the birdbath. (Someday I will blog you my history with birds. You will be amazed. And my 'praying mantis' story is a good one too.)

Smelling. Hay. Fresh cut grass. Rain. Spices. Herbs. Roses. Lavender - Big, huge, bunches of it. Indian food. Thai food. Italian food. BBQ'd chicken, beef, lamb, fish. Strawberries. Peaches.

Good golly that must mean I like to....
Taste. Indian food. Thai food. Italian food. BBQ'd chicken, beef, lamb, fish. Strawberries. Peaches. Foods that call for lavender in the recipe.

Speculating. Which can get me into trouble. BUT LISTEN. Sometimes it is the way to think something through and assess to bring decision.

Touching. Lots of things. Soft things. Animals. A gentle touch to someone's shoulder. Rockford's cheeks. Velvet. Hay. Vegetables... as I pick them warm from the sun, from a garden.

Ignoring. Pompous people.
And Mistakes people make. Which leads to - appreciating them for who they are.

I could, if I chose to, go on.
But I won't. Cause I am betting you are getting a little bored with this post.

So stop thinking about ME and tell me about you.
Where is your heart and brain? What's your list look like. Think it out, do it, go to Comment.

The Box

Oh.
Boy.
I took a little drive yesterday. I had a bit of a mission that I wasn't so sure about. I made very sure, oh so sure, I was driving at below the speed limit to extend mission arrival. I needed to be in charge, in control and I knew it. To bolster myself I very, very, yes, very purposefully took note of things along the way. Some of those things bring me peace always... but some of the things I noticed on purpose so I wouldn't have to think about my mission.

Quite fortunately, my mission destination was in Morro Bay and so being a lovely SLO afternoon the highway was full of just plain stunning views. Interestingly, I saw no herds of animals or other living, grazing creatures - that was, well, strange. Even the birds didn't seem to be out and about though it seemed that the air currents above would have been perfect for soaring. So I looked at the rocks, trees, hills, and meadows and when my brain started to spin itself the nasty way it seems to lately; (poor me) I looked at the cars I was passing and the people in them. And again, interestingly, they all looked deep in thought and frankly, not very happy thought. Hmmmm.

Quite suddenly the sun was gone and the fog dropped down around my car and I thought, "Oh, fog. That is about right." I glanced to my left and saw the mission's destination. The building seemed to jump out at me from across the highway where it sits on the frontage road. Oh, already here. Hmmm, again.

I take the exit, then the roundabout, and come to a full stop, not a California stop and look both ways. Slowly and very carefully. Pleasantly, I wave someone through the intersection. I am on the frontage road.

I have had this feeling before. I do not like it. I do not like it. I do not like it. I slow down and take a deep breath. And say to myself, "Just keep driving and look for the entrance, go in and park and oh, I know, use the restroom first... - Should I also comb my hair, put on a bit of gloss?"

I pull in. Park in a disappointingly familiar spot. Take a deep breath, lean back on the head rest, close my eyes and open the car door. Stepping out I am struck by... nothing. I cannot think of another thing to do, not one, except,..... go in the door. So I do.

I follow my plan, smile, and pleasantly ask for the restroom. She smiles, sort of, "Here for a pick-up?" I nod..... she directs me to the restroom. It smells faintly like cigarette smoke but is clean. Taking my time... ha. I wash my hands and wrinkle my nose.... I hate soap that smells like food... passion fruit... ick, more like wet fruit loops. Yes, that is what I thought at that moment, anything, think of anything except.

Exiting I walk to the office but from behind me I hear, "I'm over here." Right by the door, the exit. OK, this will be quick. I sign where indicated and she gestures to the Box on the mantel. "There 'he' is"., she says.... creepy.

Yes, it is my dad's ashes. I smile, sort of, and comment foolishly, - "Oh the Box is bigger than I thought." "Yes, she says avoiding my eyes, we usually use a MUCH smaller box but there was no way for him." I chuckle, sort of, "Yes he was a big guy."

I pick up the Box and
go. to. my. car.
I am walking in a daze. surreal.

I open the passenger door and set the Box down, now I am in a hurry, I want to leave fast. I jump into the seat, turn the key and begin to back up. And stop. All of the sudden I am overwhelmed with a strange feeling. I look to my left and see a woman, I look straight ahead and stare at the building. Then - I look to my right and look at the Box and say, right out loud....
"OK, so here WE are." I sigh, "I feel like I am supposed to DO something, but I don't know what it is! - any ideas?" (silence) I back the car out and drive away, Box there, and think...

Get a grip, think about what you know. And thankfully I can do that.

This is what I know and so this is what I think to myself.

He's not here, he is there and it is ok, (smiling) and wiping my (MY) tears away I go on because as I remind myself; when I woke up this morning I was filled with a deep sense of knowing that I had moved, beyond coping to Living again.

Living here, where I am and that is a good thing.

The Box? Yes I have it, sitting there on the shelf for another day. A day or a weekend, when we will gather and remember and scatter and cherish our memories and each other. And that will be fine, just fine.

It's a New Feeling

Ok, it's no secret, I am let's just say... older. I have two grown kids, a grandson, and past careers spanning purchasing for a department store, owning a catering business, running a home daycare, teaching and directing a preschool, founding a non-profit organization, and now working in international development. But I am just the same as everyone else. I have the same fears, worries, and now another new "feeling". This sounded crazy to me in the past when an adult said to me, my parents have passed and now I am an orphan." I would be, in my mind, really it is not the same as it is for a child. And it isn't, but there is definitely a different something there.
It is just not the same kind of thing as when my grandparents or brother passed or even when mom passed 6 years ago..
I always knew no matter his thoughts or condition, if I needed or wanted to I could call my dad and he would listen and either nod his approval or look me in the eye and show his emotion, his thought... Those looks ranged from - "what are you crazy?" to "oh no, I don't want that for you" to " I want something else for you" - he really at this age (thankfully I am sure) didn't have to say much... but those looks always gave me pause and made me think it through just a little bit more. So, ah, yes, this is different.
Don't get me wrong it wasn't like I was running to him for his thoughts and go ahead all the time. It was just that he was always interested to listen and the best thing of all was when he got that "pleased as punch" look on his face. That was really good.
So I am navigating a little differently now. I am thinking more and also of course, thinking "what look would dad give me right now"....?
Listen people, no matter your age, when it comes to your parents you will always be their little boy or girl. That is just a fact. But of course, if we choose to, and I did with my dad, we can also have an amazing friendship with our parent.
That is what I want/try/hope I accomplish everyday with my kids - it is a tension, a balance, cause they have their own lives and minds and plans. And they should, they better, that is healthy. So I balance the best I can and just love them for who they are, encouraging them and not being afraid to quietly reveal a little bit on my face... or NOT. Cause that is just as important if not more so sometimes. I mean seriously, who I am to judge? And all in all that is the one HUGE thing I learned from my dad. He just didn't judge me, he just never seemed to be jealous, or hateful, he just had this amazing thing that happened in his heart and mind in the late 60's - His capacity to love was altered for the good. And that helped him to look and shrug off what he needed to.That is what I am seeking, cause though he was often misunderstood, and made many mistakes, and was even considered by some fools foolish, he wasn't. He knew how to love unconditionally.
What do you look to do, to be to share with your family or friends? Thoughts?

Letting go - it's hard.

I have been letting go of a lot of emotion these last few days. I am not known as one to cry. So when I woke up yesterday and truly, before my eyes were really open burst into loud wracking sobs - I can only say... I was shocked.

But I have also had some soft and silent, peaceful and dripping with joy, moments. I know that sounds pretty dramatic, but that is the only way I can describe them. I mean I still cry more then I have those moments I just described - but that is because I am icky, fleshly and human and self-centered. (And doggone it I miss my Dad. - woman stomps foot)

As I think about grief I think that is a lot of what grief is... I think it is icky, fleshly and human and self-centered, and for heaven's sake so out of control.. I mean it just takes over when it feels like it and then suddenly it is gone... for a while.

I know, I know, it is that we miss our loved ones. Are you thinking right now, "Really woman, you should stop beating yourself up and just roll with it." Wait though... you have to admit that it is kind of all about ME missing someone - and I hate the part of me that thinks about myself more than others - it so prevalent. ICK.

Think about this...

In eternity; there are no tears shed (except maybe tears of joy), there is no pain, there is no emptiness, no thought of one's need, no wondering, no anguish, no worrying, no anything I don't like.

I believe that when someone is "there" they can still see me - so I am sure they aren't missing me the same way I am missing them... at least I don't think they are. I believe yes, that they are waiting for us, but they just know it all so they can wait in joy - I even wonder if they know when we will be there. - Or are they just hanging out watching and waiting and looking at the calendar wondering? Ha! That's a funny picture in my brain now.

Today we had a little tribute to dad and just as we finished saying goodbye to a few people and clearing everything to inside, there was a huge clap of thunder and it began to pour. BUT the sun was so brightly setting, the clouds white with just a hint of grey - it was lovely, I mean seriously it was.

We stood under the eaves and someone said, "Look, look straight up, the drops are huge and they are sparkling!" And you know what? They were. Sparkling and glittery and falling straight down, very straight - We were all exclaiming that we had never, ever seen that before.

Suddenly, and it was suddenly, I took a deep breath and I realized... the air was completely fresh and clean - like even more than usual.

I remembered having a thought drift across my consciousness yesterday, "It's going to rain tomorrow and it will be significant." And it did and it was.

My sister said, "What do you think this means?"

This is what I told her; "I think it is just dad saying he is washed clean of everything, including his ties to this earth, he is free and just full of joy and so happy."

When I said that out loud, right then is when I had this incredible burst of dripping joy and I could see, in my mind's eye, my dad, smiling at me with those blue eyes twinkling.

It was very cool.

I remember as a kid, living up on the top of a hill in Ohio - My dad taught me how to look out the picture window and way across the vast valley and watch the rain come across to the hilltop. "Watch, watch," he'd say, "Do you see it moving our way?" Then almost every time it rained it seemed like he would say, "The air is fresh and clean after the rain."

And one day, I could see it the rain was coming - I remember looking up at him and thinking, "Wow, I see it." Then I remember him opening the door to the back yard and breathing deeply... "Can you smell it, can you Lisa? It is so lovely after the rain." Just one statement. One true statement.

What do you believe? What do you think about grief? Please leave your comments ~ I would love to hear from you.