papa's valentine

comes to me this day

of missing mama

beneath a winter gray sky

and cool swirls of snow

It is a constant ache-this quiet grief that gets carried along from day to day inside my heart, sometimes big and sometimes small, but always in the foreground, never letting me forget that life is forever different, forever changed without my mother.  Just a continuous feeling of grief and loss that can't be shared. 

So when my father (who turns 87 this Friday), who relies so much on me, who I am constantly caring for and giving to, said he had something for me yesterday when I was visiting, I all at once became a little girl again. In the midst of his bingo game he had me open this hand-made valentine with pink and red hearts glued all over the front, and written inside was "To my daughter, with all my love, Papa." I kissed him and thanked him, trying not to cry and he says "A little keepsake for you to remember me by."

For me, the valentine was all the love my parents wrapped me in from the day I was born-and finally I felt it again-what I had been missing since my mother's death- that wonderful love that can fill up my heart like nothing else.

It's almost as if my mother was sending her love through my father-at least that's how it felt to me.

a new year
a fresh snow
birds
beneath the feeder
counting their blessings

What a year it has been! Probably one of the busiest years of my life-filled with both great sadness and also great joy. The year began with the loss of David's good friend, Don, succumbed to cancer. February and March were consumed with my father and his two falls, in and out of hospitals and rehabs, all the while my mom's health failing, and then her unexpected death in April. Next came great transition-moving my father into an assisted living facility and going through my parents belongings. So busy caring for my father, visiting him every day, doing his laundry and meds, and still planning a bridal shower and an August wedding for my daughter. This was followed by the birth of my first grandson in October and then the wedding of my other daughter!

What I have learned is that these great joys after my mom's death were my greatest blessing--they helped me to grieve and to heal in ways I never expected or thought possible, but I also learned to wholly cherish these experiences of joy. I always thought of grief as tears and aching. But grief is wrapped within beautiful moments as well-through smiles, and wedding kisses and the sparkling sea and my father's tears as my daughter says her vows or he holds his great grandson. Moments of great joy shared by grief. Beautiful. Remarkable.

And so I begin 2010 afraid of nothing-knowing that whatever the year brings, there lives most wonderfully joy and grief, one inside the other.

Peace and Goodness.