The last few weeks have been hard. The next few will probably be better, but the holidays have their own sadness as well as celebrations. My daughter’s birthday was the 14th and the 15th was the anniversary of her death. These days are difficult for me and especially so for her son, daughter, brother, father and husband. We don’t talk a lot about it. Each of us trying to protect the others and really just can’t find the words or get them out past the lump in our throats. This is probably not the best way to manage this grief, but we are doing what we can for now.

My husband had surgery for a rotator cuff a little over three weeks ago and has been unable to do much of anything for himself so has to rely on me for his care. I am glad to do it, but he is an independent sort and is really tired of having to have help with his socks, his icepack, pulling up his bed covers, cutting up his dinner, and especially his shower. Thankfully he is now able to do some of those things and will begin physical therapy in a couple of days. It all balances out as life goes on. He comforts me in my sadness and I make him laugh at his limitations.

All this has me looking back on how death has been a presence in my life, almost from the beginning. I was not yet five when my maternal grandmother, Bammie, died and nine when her husband followed her. My infant sister lived only four days and I vividly recall that funeral. So much sadness and so many people trying to help with food, visits, flowers, letters and just being there. Then in high school both my paternal grandparents passed away leaving another empty place behind. My dad was only fifty-six when he died far too soon and I was in my thirties. That one was so hard, not only because of my overwhelming grief but I had to try to explain to my son and daughter when they were only nine and eleven. I cannot remember talking to them about it even though I know I did.

Since then, my mom, the in-laws, and most of my cousins are gone, some close friends and neighbors, and co-workers. I miss them all as I put ornaments on the Christmas tree and prepare for the Thanksgiving meal. No more do I hear my mom and Aunt Louise fussing over the dressing and cranberry relish. No more my cousins sparing over the wishbone. So much that enriched my life left in the past, just memories that my husband is a bit tired of me yakking about, but he is sweet about it.

These musings make me remember a line from Forrest Gump that I repeat to myself often. Dying is just a part of living, Forrest. We all die someday.

Just a part of living, but only a part. I am not sure how or why, but I always get back to living. Doing and being and thinking and planning and hoping. Living. Even on the hardest of the recent days I made the bed, drank my coffee and went to the gym. I visited with the great grandkids and we laughed and played. Lots of hugs and kisses and sneaking some candy when daddy wasn’t looking. Life is good and I am enjoying most of it. Memories are mostly happy ones, and I indulge in a bit of nostalgia as I go about my days. I am fortunate to have a son who calls me a few times a week and keeps me up to date on his family. He will be here with his boys and wife at Christmas so that what I am most looking forward to now. My first grandson is coming home for Thanksgiving so that day will be a treat.

Right this minute I have a glass of wine at my elbow as I type, and the dear old dog is snoring at my feet. The husband and I had a nice dinner and now he is settled at the television where I will soon be also. Life is good.

What a week it has been. So hopeful on Monday and then devastated Tuesday night. My fear became real. It is still with me, but not as overwhelming as it was initially. It is likely that hard times are coming for many of us, especially those who are just one pay day from homeless and hungry. Can we even hope that those in power have compassion? Now that they don’t need our vote anytime soon do they even know we exist? It would be so easy to sink into despair.

Then Wednesday came and there was a bit of time to process it all. The sun rose as it always has and slipped below the horizon at the end of the day. When the new (slightly used) president takes office we will know very quickly what to expect. That is still several weeks away so wringing our hands in fearful anticipation serves no purpose. So, I met an old friend for a beer at the end of the day and we talked about shared memories and our families and friends. We laughed and enjoyed a good meal.

Thursday I woke up determined to have a good day. So I made a plan. First coffee, hot with sugar and cream and the dog for company. Check. Make the husband a good breakfast, make the bed, finish the laundry and pay some bills. Check. Go to the gym for at least an hour. Check. Long, lazy hot bath and put on soft pajamas. Check. Simple supper and finish reading the novel that has been neglected for several days. Check. Have a glass of good wine and go to bed. Check. Most of the fear of earlier in the week is on the back burner now.

On Friday I made a list of chores that need doing around the house and then tackled about half of them. Managed to hit the gym again and have a nice dinner with the husband, and of course the dog. Still worried about times to come, but not as much.

Now on Saturday night I have knocked out most of the to do list, had phone calls with my favorite people and have settled in with more of the wine and some television — no news allowed.

I am making a conscious decision to move from fear to hope and I think I am on the way. Tomorrow is likely to be much like most of my days and that is pretty good. I hope to get hugs and laughs from my great grandkids and that is likely to happen. I hope that there are more people who want to do good things than bad. I hope for health and know that depends on what I do. I hope the rest of my family are okay and so far, they seem to be. I hope my community is made up of people who are kind to each other and I hope those things I have feared are less likely than they seem.

At the end of a busy day with good music playing I sat down with a novel that I am about half-way through with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese at my side, the dog sleeping at my feet and feeling all cozy in my soft robe and fuzzy slippers. I was still warm from my bath and enjoying the scent of lavender from a candle on the table and from the powder on my body. All my favorite relaxers at once. Oh, yeah, and just a tiny buzz from the gummy I had before the bath. Too much? Maybe, but man did I feel good. Good all over.

Then the husband came to sit beside me and I rested my head on his shoulder. It probably doesn’t get better than this. I could probably do this just about every evening, but would it become ordinary? Does one need the crazy days in order to appreciate the great ones? I think probably so. Human nature seems to require that we always desire more or better. Even my desire to repeat that perfect evening is a wish for more, even if it’s more of the same.

When I am content with the current situation it seems that after a bit of time I wish I could share my happiness with someone who can’t be here or wish to be in a place I visited that I want to return to. A memory of a past time sneaks into my mind and I wish I could do that again. I think maybe this perfect time might be just a bit better with a fireplace or a hot tub to finish it off. Perhaps being content is not my natural state. However, I am looking forward to having another perfect evening soon and I will try to just love it and leave wishing for more alone.

Usually when I sit down to write here I choose to explore the mundane and ordinary; you know, my life. A good day, like this one, would include some exercise, something good to eat, quiet time with the husband and not so quiet time with the great grandkids and a glass of good wine before bed. Today I also had a phone visit with my brother in Tampa talking about the coming hurricane.

My brother has been in Tampa since he graduated from college about fifty years ago so he has hunkered down to ride out a storm or two and has it down pat. In his younger days he would have a hurricane party with friends but we are more mature now and don’t party as much or as hard. Still, from up here in Kentucky I get a bit concerned.

My neighborhood is just as ordinary as I am. When my children were young and in school the houses on our block mostly had families with children who ventured from one house to another to play and rode their bikes all over our little town. This was in the 70’s when kids knew to get home before the streetlights came on and every parent was a host to all the kids their children knew. Now all those kids are approaching middle age and the houses in my neighborhood are mostly the dwelling place of folks who live alone. Across the street is a single father with teenagers, three widows and one elderly couple, no kids. On my side of the street we have a couple next door on one side and an elderly single man on the other. Behind us there is a single man and an empty house where the widower died a few months ago. It’s mostly quiet here. It’s an easy place to be.

I wouldn’t want to appear terribly dull. We do go places and do things. There are festivals of many kinds here at our park and in nearby towns that we like to attend. I particularly like finding good music and maybe a drink or two to wile away an evening. We have a boat moored at a marina on Kentucky lake and spend summer days soaking up sun and making boat trips to lakeside villages for a meal or event. When we travel it usually includes visiting family or friends. With my brother in Tampa and our son in New Hampshire we have toured some great places with each of them. It’s nice to be retired and able to just go if so inclined. Some days we get in the car, pick a direction, and drive. Maybe see a road that we haven’t been down, so we go to see where it winds up. Once found a farm down a country lane that makes cheeses and ships them all over the country. The smoked gouda is my favorite. Only once that I can recall we actually got lost and saw a whole lot more of Southern Illinois than planned.

I am becoming concerned about my brain. There’s too much going on in there. While exercising at the gym I have my ear buds in listening to music, but sometimes I do not actually hear it because I got distracted by something on the tv screen that has no sound. Then someone comes in the door and I get to thinking about what kind of person they might be but I look down at the timer and I still have a few minutes to reach my goal. The song in my ear changes and I get lost in the lyrics and then lost in the memories the song triggers and then I am back to wondering how my mind became like a rabid squirrel. AND, I remind myself that we are out of milk at home and I forgot to thaw out something for dinner and an appointment needs to be made to get the dogs’ nails trimmed and that reminds me that I need to schedule a booster shot. Good grief! I will not accept that this happens when a person is on the downhill side of 77. Wait a minute. That could be an issue. At my age there are so many memories, so many things still to do, and way too many lessons learned and a whole lot of trivial information that serves no practical purpose and all that takes up brain space. Just like a computer with a full memory gets slow and maybe even crashes, my brain is overloaded. So, maybe I am okay after all. Not really sure about that explanation, but I like it so I am deciding to believe it.

I used to do the same thing with religion — choose to believe it for about half my life until it just didn’t make sense to me anymore. Gave it up and became a happy heathen instead. Now that can be a mind clearing experience. I like making decisions and choices based on what is real and evidence based. I like that there is no reason for me to fear hell. Hell isn’t real to me. I really like giving up the guilt that goes along with religious thinking. I just do my best. The freedom to choose what to believe and what to discard is something I am way grateful for. It can be a challenge for those who knew the old me and expect her to still be here — but that is for them to deal with. I’m just going to stay happy with myself.

Spent some time catching up on the news today and as so often happens there is very little that is new and very little to be glad to know. There is still war in the middle east, in Africa, between Ukraine and Russia and probably several other places that are not covered by our news media. The world is still a mess, as it has been as long as I can remember, which is a fairly long time. Politics here in the USA is destressing and local news is all about crime and sports. I kinda like the sports part. Even so I am grateful to be where I am and living the life I have.

For the time being our country is not actively engaged in a war. For now, we have freedoms here that are not common in most of the world. There things that I am so very pleased with about the United States. I love that there are people here from all over world and I get to meet some of them.

The last time I was in an airport waiting to board I heard several different languages and saw faces the many shades of humankind. There were young families, business people, couples and single senior citizens. I met a young girl in a wheel chair who was going away to college and all excited about it. She wants to be an engineer. On the plane my seat was behind a young couple with a toddler who was curious about everything, as toddlers usually are. The little girl kept peeking at me over the seat and her father apologized for her bothering me. I was not al all bothered, rather entertained. We played peek-a-boo and, after getting permission, I shared my graham cookies with her. For sure I had a new friend for the flight.

Here in the small town where I live most folks look pretty much the same. That’s not awful, but it is limiting. I grew up in a small town and it was much the same as this one. Being a small-town-girl only keeps aspirations and vision small if one stays there. I have found that travel, reaching out to groups of people different from me, reading about everything I possibly can all make me a bit less small-town. I will probably never be a sophisticated urban woman, but I hope to be more informed, more open to change and more accepting of that change as long as I this life lasts.