Life is Your Story

There’s that special friend and that sacred place -   a park, a cottage, a lake, a summer camp – where you grew up, experimented, built your foundation. You spoke of the life that you would make for yourself – the partner – the co-pilot – the kids – the career – the house – the travels – the stuff that makes you feel alive. When things weren’t going well behind closed doors – the family – the parents – the sibling – the knocking around – you met in this place and that friend took you home until things were better. And as the years went on and you met the partner, built the career, had the kids, the step kids, the dog, the cat, the house, the debt, the change in the partner that wasn’t really change at all – the one kid out of the 2 or 3 that struggled, that searched without finding, the hugs, the sighs, the “everything will be okay” even when you didn’t think everything would be okay. The mid-life crisis – the change in career – the affair or thought of t

There’s a common ground between all of us and it starts with worrying. Everyone everywhere worries about something. We are born to worry. Some of us turn it off better than others but for the most part it’s always there in the back of your mind pulling at you. Health or lack thereof can especially bring on worry. It’s one of the most important things you can worry about. It’s something that you often have little control over but it can take control of you and your entire life in a fraction of a second. We worry about love. Love isn’t free and it isn’t all that you need but whatever you do have of it and no matter how much you have of it; you worry you will lose it. We all lose love and find love throughout our lifetimes. We give our love away and we take love often without really comprehending its value. We worry about our children from the time they are born until the time we leave this world and chances are that even when we are no longer here

If you sit down on the grass in the sun with the wind quietly purposefully listening for spirits of souls you have loved you will hear them if you let your mind at ease and stop thinking they will come to you and speak with a whisper you will feel them in the tall grass with your fingertips their voices will tell you they miss you as much as you miss them they'll surround you before they leave you they won't tell you where they are going just that you can't follow you'll stand up and walk away and just when you think they will never return the wind will blow the sun will shine and somewhere in the distance you will hear a hum

If there is one day we all hope will never come, it's the one where our life partner has to be taken from us whether in life or in death. However it is all so common with the increase in Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, Cancers of every sort, that one of the two has to be hospitalized and evaluated and most always, inevitably the call is made by medical professionals who are doing their best but have far too many aging patients to monitor and evaluate and far too few specialists available to support them and so the call is that the said parent will never return to their home again. This crossroad means so many different and sad things to various family members. So I will use the Dad as an example. Your Dad has been told that he will never regain his independence - perhaps he can no longer walk or go without diapers or oxygen. Maybe he has a progressive disease that is moving at rampant rates. He is already frail, depressed and practically throwing in the towel after months t

When someone we love dies, we want them back. Plain and simple. It's like a crime has been committed. They've been taken - sometimes with warning and sometimes without warning - sometimes expected yet always unexpected. There are those we accompany as far as we can toward whatever comes next. We sit by their bed and we wish we could take the suffering and pain away. We are ready to give ourselves in their place. We are aching and frightened. We know what is coming as the butterflies move at warp speed in our stomachs and photos clips turn into horrid collages of the darkest scenes from the obituary in which we can't say what we really want to say and to the funeral that too many strangers attend and the eulogy that will never do them justice and the burial - the shovel to the dirt, the dirt to the coffin, a final curtain call without ample applause to a life well lived and the love they gave. Then there are the ones that just happen the way things just sort of

Towels of my life. 3 yrs old, cold, shivering, running out of the gated kids area at Blossom Pool, my mother, kneeling, open towel, wrap around me, warm, fabric softener scent, hug, love, safe. Guest - friends country house - age 11 - weekend in winter - new discovery - some families have two houses - one for the week - one for the weekend - we don't - here is the guestroom, here is the washroom and here is your towel - large, plush - it may even be new - yes I think they gave me a new towel - welcome. Boyfriend - Me - first shower with someone other than myself - towel on, towel off - all weekend long - fun, exciting, daring - and lots of towels. Grandmother - MS - confined to bed for 30 years - paralyzed from neck down - forehead as in head as in only part of body she can feel - heating up - fever - me 16,towel - cold water - hold gently on her against her forehead - brush of fingers to her cheek - does she know I love her? - does she know I wish I could fix her? - get a

I recently watched the movie "Beginners" written as a semi auto bio piece by Mike Mills. Ewan McGregor plays the role of a deeply effected son who witnessed the absence of affection and connection between his parents during his upbringing. Christopher Plummer steals the show playing the part of the father who after 45 years of marriage and his wife's passing, informs his son that he is Gay. He then goes on to celebrate life, love and sensual pleasures with a younger man. A permanent smile is affixed to his face and his happiness is infectious. In a sense, he becomes a "Beginner" living his life as a fresh start at the tender age of 75. One of the many questions the movie asks is... "How do you measure someone else's sorrow?" My response (cause it's my Blog): "You don't" But with empathy, an open non judgmental attitude and a good hard look into someones eyes, you can at least try. It's also a movie

I was recently approached by a friend of a friend who had been diagnosed with terminal Cancer. She asked if I would collaborate with her on a Life Journal. It would be for her children to read when they were older and she was gone. She also asked that I share some of her story through posts on my Blog. Her feeling was that others in her situation may find comfort in knowing they were not alone. At the same time, Iris (from my post - A Face a Mother Never Forgets)also battling Cancer, made a similar request so she could share stories with her Grandchildren. It seems I have suddenly become the Blogger for people who have been diagnosed with this dreadful disease. So they will provide me with the details and images and I will carry the weight of their words while they carry the weight of their battle between life and death. Shades of dark and light dancing like shadows on a blank wall. May their shadows continue in motion and their stories fill the surface of the wall. All names h

So it's the end of a long day and you are finally getting cozy in bed. By the dim light of a lamp, you read a few pages of a book you never seem to finish and the need for sleep overwhelms you. The light goes off and there you are staring at the ceiling. Darkness. It conjures up thoughts and images we manage to avoid or ignore in the light. I find that right there in that very moment, I think of those who have passed on from this life and left me with my heart in my hand missing them always. I wonder where they've gone in the afterlife. I close my eyes and I see their faces. Memories rush through my brain turning the cog wheel at such a constant, powerful pace that my heart starts to beat faster. I force myself to remember the good times when they were healthy,vibrant, laughing the way they laughed and very much a part of life in its entirety and a part of me. I think of my Grandfather who fought in two world wars, traveled the world, a painter, a sculptor and a pharmaci

"Two Zen monks in robes and shaved heads, one young, one old, sitting side by side cross-legged on the floor. The younger one is looking somewhat quizzically at the older one, who is turned toward him and saying "Nothing happens next. This is it." (from The New Yorker) I'm always waiting for what is next instead of focusing on what is now. There are people at this very moment (and you may be one of them) concerned, worried, scared in terms of Hurricane Irene and the damage, destruction and death she will bring. I would worry for my family and for all of those I love. I would also have compassion and concern for elderly people living alone in their homes without anyone to come and help them. Can you imagine being 80+yrs old and you really never leave your house/apartment unless it is for a medical appointment and you are suddenly alone in the dark unable to manage a safer situation - knowing that no one even realizes you are there? What about those su