GRIEVING - ONGOING

Recently I was driving down Route 1 in Yarmouth and passed one of our favorite coffee shops - windows covered and dark. Not one car in the parking lot. A wave of sadness at our loss washed over me. It was such a delightful hide-a-way filled with a collection of funky furnishings and good strong dark coffee accompanied by a peaceful quietness - along with the occasional sweet, of course.

It was a favorite - easy to find by simple directions for friends passing through so we could meet and share a cup or two. We can not afford to loose these wonderful institutions - victims of COVID 19, beyond the magic of vaccines.

Too many papered over windows and empty parking lots. It's fair to wonder if we are approaching a tipping point for or against recovery of culture and ordinary human activities - at least those we are used to.

So much has been lost, perhaps never to be the same. In the midst of the pandemic, we sold our home that we hardly ever planned to leave until we grew too old to handle the work. Now it's gone and I wonder if the sadness over that loss will ever go away. I never wanted to have to deal with these emotions so far down the line. Grief is common to us all but it can erode sanity and balance if not acknowledged and processed.

Can you keep a secret? I'm already eroded. The flakes of rust have eaten to my core and it's using up more than its fair share of my emotional resources and I'm fucking tired of it. Perhaps that's a good thing. Maybe something good can come out of this wave of twisted energy after all. Maybe it's never too late for another damned growth experience. You know about growth, don't you? Letting go of the old and reaching for the new. My mistake was in thinking that I had already been there - done that . . . enough already!

What I have learned, and I'm sure you have as well, is that it's never too late for learning a little bit about life and loss. Several years ago we had Carol Ann's mother with us. She suffered from a type of blood cancer and needed regular transfusions which at the beginning was once, then a couple of times a month, then weekly then twice a week. The transfusion itself virtually wiped her out for the entire day. Then there was increased energy for a few days then the need for a fresh transfusion arose. Until one day she announced her intention to stop the transfusions, knowing full well it meant she would soon die. She said goodby to the nurses and staff at the infusion center. There were long hugs and tears. I had to remember to breathe.

I was privileged to hold her hand when she let go and took her last breath. I miss her. We watched a lot of baseball together. My Red Sox - her Yankees. Every moment in her presence was a growth experience.

Never fear grief. Use it. Let it deepen your appreciation for everything. For the record, I'm not there yet. I'm not all that sure there is a "there". I'm still working on it. I think it's the effort that counts.

THE TOUCH OF YOUR THOUGHTS

Who among us does not know the joy 
that spark of surprise when someone
says, I was thinking of you 
I think of you all the time
how bereft I would be without you.
Anticipating the sound of your voice 
the warmth of your embrace
who knows but that thoughts have substance
and wishes can come true
and we are rich beyond our fondest dreams.