“I’m going to get off the phone now.” “Mom, tell me you love me.” “I love you honey.” “OK mom, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “OK, goodbye.”
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“I’m going to get off the phone now.” “Mom, tell me you love me.” “I love you honey.” “OK mom, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “OK, goodbye.”
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Last year, my friend Ted died from esophageal cancer. He was my seventh friend to die in seven years, and I was bereft.
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For most of my children’s lives Easter included the excitement of dying and hunting eggs and candy brought in the middle of the night by the Easter bunny.
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“Bean, I’ve made it home!” I felt my dad’s spirit speaking to me through the pitch black night. As I stood alone with this new truth and my sister’s words “dad’s dead” summersaulting in my head, I turned my gaze up toward heaven.
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It was almost April and one news station reported that our city had had a mere forty hours of sunlight since October! It had been the darkest five months of my life.
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“All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one’s heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes.” Cormac McCarthy
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I had never heard an explosion like that on an airplane!
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We met in a bar after midnight.
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I am not always great at asking for care. I think some of that lingers from childhood, growing up in a house where not making a mess or being a mess was considered a strength.
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Think of the frustration that comes from listening to a dog constantly bark in the background while you’re trying to hold a conversation.
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