Hello readers,
Happy May! Gosh, our fifth month into the new year.
I sometimes try to recall when my grandparents started to talk more about time. In the way that life seems to be designed, they probably did so when I was filled with innocence and the certainty that time went on “forever” in my excitement or boredom while they focused on being as present as possible because they couldn’t quite fathom how they now had grandchildren when “only yesterday” they were just beginning as parents.
While they said things like “how did we get to May already?” I was probably thinking “will summer ever get here?”
I can remember watching my grandpa build and repair in his garage and my grandma make and bake in the kitchen, unaware that they were busy doing as they strived to get their to-dos completed. I can recall camping trips curled up in the cozy nook of a loft bed just inches below the ceiling of the camper, having not paid attention to all the to-doing that went into setting up our camp.
I only remember the feelings of presence.
Through my childhood lenses, my grandparents were be-ing. I read the following words recently by an unknown author. Nostalgia isn’t about wanting to relive the past; it’s about appreciating the pieces of it that shaped you into who you are today.
Through my adult eyes, I am grateful for the pieces that shaped Be-ing present with the now of life.
Namaste’
-Christine
The Creases now Speak
Laura
Abby sat quietly as Laura began to read excerpts from her mom’s diaries.
My dear Laura. Do you feel a hole in your heart having your older sister Stephanie die so young? I can’t walk in your shoes, but I understand the emptiness. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my sister Mary. F’in cancer anyway, right?!
My dear Edward. Thank YOU for all you are doing while I love my sister as she dies. Each Friday, when I come home exhausted, you usher me to our bedroom, draw a warm bath for me, and then bring me dinner in bed before tenderly kissing me goodnight and telling me to get some rest. I don’t know how you do it, keeping the girls and yourself so quiet on Saturday mornings while I sleep in.
My dear Edward. We have done that which we were not “supposed” to have to do. We buried one of our daughters today. Your heart is shattered, as is mine, and yet, just as you did when Mary died, you are listening, squeezing me tighter at all the right times, and whispering “I love you” when I most need to hear your voice. You are my rock while at the same time you are next to me in the trenches of grief crying with me, for your pain and for mine. How is it that in the deepest grief I can also feel the deepest love?
My dear Laura, Josh, and Kaylen. I wish you had not already experienced loss that is part of life. Since I can’t shelter you from more of it, may you turn to these next words to find comfort and peace in the moments you may find it hard to navigate sorrow. May you also find my love.
All of us take journeys through the emotional currents of life. If we choose, we will see that our journeys have been everything beautiful and miraculous. For, my dear loved ones, life is these things!
I have felt Love that takes one’s breath away, either because of deep unconditional adoration or out of fear of losing the one who causes the arrested breaths. I am intimate with Sorrow that fills one with certainty the pain of Grief will never ease and then carries one from the internal throbbing ache of Disbelief over waterfalls of Anger and Denial before resting in Resolve and Allowance so that Peace can visit on occasion. I have listened to the taunting chats of Regret, and have put my whole body against the entry door where Faith has stood on the other side knocking to come in. I have prayed for the strength to stop Rage from entering the home of my heart. I have danced with Humility and flirted with Greed. I have longed for Loneliness to stop following me and relish my now established routine to drink tea with Gratitude and Joy.
If I can give you one thing, please accept the life I lived as proof that it truly is breathtaking beautiful, worth every painful moment, and that I have left this Earth the luckiest and wealthiest person, for I have left this earth loving and being loved.
My dear Laura, Josh, Kaylen, and Edward. And dear Laura, if you have a love of your life, dear one that brings what my daughter most deserves, this is for you, too.
It was only a couple of weeks ago that I found your letter, Edward, that you had written to me before we were married. I cannot imagine the pain you have carried for so long. It is ok for you to let it go now.
Our children and grandchildren, if only we could live a lifetime before we become parents. Just as it is your first time experiencing life, so it is ours. We are growing and growing up even when we reach our elder years, and sometimes we aren’t able to stop the generations of pain until after we have perpetuated some of that pain onto our children. Your father has been hurting since his childhood and some of that has been hurled at you. Please let go of the judgment as I have also asked your father to let go of the pain.
It is ok to let the walls crumble now and let love pour in.
With all my heart,
Mom
When Abby asked Laura how she was feeling, unable to speak Laura just shook her head.