Life, Death and Mourning

There are two certainties in life:  new life and death.  Babies are born and we rejoice in them.  Loved ones die and we mourn them.  Many people I know, yearly mourn the deaths of loved ones on the dates of their death.  I, on the other hand, mourn those losses at odd times.  Today I mourn the loss of my grandmother.  I do not remember the exact date of her death.  I remember always that it was the weekend of Thanksgiving.  For the first time in my life, it was not grandma that made Thanksgiving dinner but my aunt who'd always lived with her.  My aunt made all the dishes that grandma was "famous" for.  The turkey (overcooked), the jello salads, the stuffing, potatoes and cabbage salad.  It was at grandma's house and the menu was the same, but she was not there.  I'd gone to see her before dinner at the hospital where she was a patient.  It had been a bad day for her.  She was weak and not feeling well.  I remember crying when I left.  Afraid that she would leave us.  She did leave us a couple of days later.  On a day when she was doing well.  It was the one day I hadn't gone to see her.  There was no warning - no call from the hospital that the time was near.  My father and aunt had been to see her and she was chipper and talkative.  We received a call in the evening that she'd passed.  I was devastated.  I hadn't been there.  It took a while for me to understand, but she went that day because I hadn't gone to see her.  Each time she'd talked about being "ready to go", it had been me to tell her that I wasn't ready for that.  That she couldn't leave me.  I held her back.  I wouldn't let her say good-bye or tell her that it was okay to go.

Today I miss her.  I miss her laugh.  I miss her tapping fingers.  I miss her love, her soft skin and the wrinkles on her face.  Every year I remember her birthday, but not the date of her death.  I remember the birthday celebrations - the picnic at the park that she requested for her birthday celebration.  I remember her lawn chair and her request for simplicity in the birthday dinner menu.  I remember her request that I make her the Almond Joy Cheesecake that she loved for her birthday cake.  I remember how for years she would drive to my house to watch my children while I was at work so my husband could continue to golf on his league.  I remember her love for her family.  I remember her old gold car the size of a tank.  I remember the blond brownies she would make for each of us for our birthdays.  I remember her wanting of nothing - her simple requests for little things.  She was never one who wanted for more.  A better, more loving soul has never walked this earth.

I am happy that I am not a person who mourns those lost on the day of their death. I am glad that I remember their birthdays and celebrate them.  I wish that same ability for everyone.  And I hope that someday, when my time here is done, that people  remember me the way that I remember grandma.  With love and joy and memories of all that was good about me.

I miss you GG.  I always will.

Feeding the Soul

I love camping.  It feeds my soul.  It grounds me and brings me peace. 

I have a tent.  I have a camp stove.  I have a portable grill.  I have sleeping bags, and of course, at my age, I have an air mattress.  Last weekend, Ken and I went to Letchworth State Park for a quick camping trip.  We left late Friday afternoon and returned Sunday afternoon.  48 hours of bliss.  48 hours of no TV, very little social media (we still had our Iphones) and time spent only with each other.  48 hours of campfires, hiking, breathing the fresh air and marveling at the beauty around us.  I don't know if there is anything better. 






I love the simplicity of life in the woods.  I love the smell of bacon and coffee cooking on the camp stove. 



I love the sounds of the camp ground, the rustle of the wind in the trees and the sounds of the birds and critters.  I even loved it when one of the trees dropped a leaf in my cup of coffee and later, an acorn on my head.  It was "nature" comedy of the simplest form. 

I love the smell and crackle of the campfires and the murmur of the voices of other campers in the still night air. 



And I love the s'mores.  The ooey, gooey, chocolatey, marshmallow-y goodness. 



I've decided that I have to purchase a copy of Walden by Henry David Thoreau and re-read it.  On those days when life is busy, when I'm feeling the stress of whatever the topic of the day may be, I'll open the pages and remember how life is in the woods.  Where things are simple and uncomplicated.  And then I'll close my eyes and remember my time in the woods.  And I'll relive the peace and joy that comes with the simplicity of just enjoying the surroundings, living only in that moment, with no distractions.  And it will remind me, once again, of how easy it is to find joy in the simple knowledge that I need nothing more.  That my plate is full.  That my life is beautiful.