My Ode To Hope

Taken by LKW

Ode to Hope

Oceanic dawn
at the center
of my life,
waves like grapes,
the sky’s solitude,
you fill me
and flood
the complete sea,
the undiminished sky,
tempo
and space,
sea foam’s white
battalions
the orange earth,
the sun’s
fiery waist
in agony,
so many
gifts and talents,
birds soaring into their dreams,
and the sea, the sea,
suspended
aroma,
chorus of rich, resonant salt,
and meanwhile,
we men,
touch the water,
struggling,
and hoping,
we touch the sea,
hoping.

And the waves tell the firm coast:
‘Everything will be fulfilled.’ ~ Pablo Neruda

For the better part of this year, my life has been like a plane circling a runway awaiting permission to land. I am peering out of the window, the ground in sight, but helpless to reach it, All the while, I am trying to stay calm amidst the confusion, frustration, lack of control and uncertainty. Much like the plane as it circles over my destination, my life is at a standstill. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve felt this way most of the year. Like people all over the world, life seemingly changed overnight, due to a virus that has no regard for anything, including one’s race, sex, age, natural origin, group affiliations, or social status. Covid-19 has changed the way that we live and love.

Since the beginning of 2020, I had reservations to go to California for my yearly visit with my daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. I have taken that trip each year for at least 10 years, and I thought that this year was to be no different. As it happened, the pandemic and shutdown forced me to cancel those reservations. Since then, I have canceled and rebooked my reservation at least 4 times.

If dealing with the pandemic were not enough, this country is more divided than it has been in well over 50 years. Hate and racial/social/political discord permeates every facet of everyday life. If truth be told, it has added to my depression, anxiety, insomnia, and the already 24/7 chronic pain that I deal with every day. My mental, physical, and emotional health has suffered in so many ways. All that I want is for this year to be over, because in spite of it all, I remain hopeful that 2021 will be better.

So, in holding on to that hope, I am trying to take control over all that I can control—me. I joined an online bible study group, as well as an online meditation course. I am trying to write more, and once I can figure out a way to share my art/office space with my husband, who has been working from home since March, I will return to creating my artwork. Also, I will return to studying the Spanish language, and natural perfumery and aromatherapy.

More importantly, I’ve felt called to give back. I mean, in spite of fibromyalgia, and the chronic pain that comes with it, we are blessed. My husband remains employed, and although the virus has affected some family and friends, most of us, including my 80-year-old mother who lives with us, are unscathed. We are socially distancing, and doing everything recommended by the experts. I am grateful.

I decided how I wanted to give back. There are so many people who are homeless, hungry and hopeless in our society. Many stand at intersections where most of us to do our best to avoid eye contact with them. I certainly cannot cure the world’s ills, but I can do something in my little pocket of the world. With this in mind, an idea was born. So, two days ago, I filled bags, each with a bottle of water, fresh fruit, a piece of dried fruit, raisins or cheese crackers, mini chocolates, gum, and moist towelettes. I closed each bag and applied a sticker that said “Bless You.” With each completed bag, I felt a sense of joy that I hadn’t felt in quite some time. The plane touched down, if only for a moment.

My daughter, who drives for Uber Eats, agreed to hand them out when she can do so safely. I hope that each one brings a smile to a surprised face, warms a heart, and a reminder that somewhere out there, they are not forgotten. This is my “ode to hope.”

A Letter To My Baby Brother

Dearest Baby Brother,

Happy birthday darling! I wish that I could deliver this greeting In person, but since you died so young, that is impossible. Based on my beliefs, which were yours as well, I believe that you are up there in heaven, healthy, and watching over all of us. At times, I swear that I can feel your presence all around me, and I find that quite comforting.

This letter is not meant to be a downer. No, I want to celebrate you, and tell you how blessed I feel to be your sister. Although it has happened ever so slowly, over the years, the good memories that we shared, outweigh my grief over losing you. Grief is funny that way — it affects each of us in different ways, and no one can decide when another person “should be over it.”(I hear people say this much too often, and I am quick to refute that claim.) Now, instead of tears borne of grief, I cry tears of happiness at the mere memory of you.

You see, I finally reached a sense of acceptance and peace about your death. I am not saying that a day goes by that I don’t miss you, but the raw hurt, sadness, and anguish has been replaced with the joy of sharing a life with you, and the pride of being your big sister.

The wonderful memories of you are too many to name. Yet, I remember the day that Mom brought you home from the hospital. I loved you from the moment that I lay eyes on you. As the oldest, I assigned myself your protector, and vowed that I’d let nothing happen to you.

I remember that after great-grandmother could no longer keep up with you, Mom placed you in daycare. At first, you hated it. Every day, for a month or so, you could be found by the gate, crying and waiting for Mom to pick you up. You insisted on wearing sunglasses, so that the other children wouldn’t see you cry. I remember those times that I picked you up from daycare, and we walked home with your hand in mind, as you told me about your day. I held your little hand for dear life.

I remember that you were always funny, and could make us laugh. I remember that when I got pregnant, right after high school, and compounded the problem by moving out to get married, you never disparaged or showed any disappointment in me. Regardless of what others thought, you didn’t care. In fact, although you are only 9 years old, I remember you taking at least two buses to see me, and ultimately, your first nephew in our teeny, little apartment. Your actions touch my heart to this very day. And, you were a great uncle who loved and delighted in your nephews and nieces.

As you grew older, you were a constant source of pride, and although I thought it impossible, I loved you more. You graduated high school, and moved on to college. You were living in San Francisco, and had just finished your final year at the University when you were diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I was in awe of the strength, grace, and faith with which you faced the situation. I remember your determination and zeal to overcome the disease. I remember your insistence that life would go on, so you decided to move away from home to seek your Masters in Communication. Although you didn’t love to see your diploma, Mom treasures it, as it sits in the frame that you bought for it.

Alvin, you were, and remain, a blessing to me and even though I was the oldest, you were always a wise old soul and your life and death taught me, among others, things like:

  1. Love never dies.
  2. To tell those that you love, how much you love them and what you mean to them~~often.
  3. To be brave in the face of adversity.
  4. To take risks.
  5. To be kind to others, but don’t be a doormat.
  6. To speak up for yourself.
  7. To speak up for injustices.
  8. That loyalty, truth and trust are traits that one should live by.
  9. To maintain your sense of curiosity.
  10. To be true to yourself.
  11. To live life to its fullest.
  12. To know all of your options, before making a decision.
  13. That wisdom is not age-dependent.
  14. To appreciate, appreciate, appreciate the small blessings in life.
  15. To constantly count your blessings.
  16. To live a life that you can be proud of.
  17. That you are never promised another moment.
  18. To defend your family fiercely.
  19. To savor life with all of your senses.
  20. To be adventurous.
  21. To love outside of your comfort zone.

All in all, I remember a man who exemplified a zest for life, an incredible spirit and was the epitome of a compassionate and caring person. Your positively touched the life of everyone who was fortunate enough to have been in your presence. You were a loving brother. (I mean, what brother hangs a picture of his big sister up in his high school locker?!?! lol) Sweetie, you were a blessing to me, and I am a better person for having known you. If given the opportunity, there are things that I long to share with you, but I am comforted by the belief that I adequately conveyed to you how very much I love you. About that, I have no regrets. Besides, I believe that you are already privy to everything that I wish to share.

I still love this quote from this earlier post about you:

“And you will continue now, and forever, to redefine your relationship with your deceased loved one. Death doesn’t end the relationship, it simply forges a new type of relationship – one based not on physical presence but on memory, spirit, and love.” ~ Ashley Davis Bush, “Transcending Loss

I am a lucky person for having shared a life with you, and as I expressed in the above post, you will always be my dear, sweet brother. I’d have it no other way. Thank you for being, and enjoy a heavenly birthday.

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Thankful Thursday

“Never let a day pass without looking for the good, feeling the good within you, praising, appreciating, blessing, and being grateful. Make it your life commitment, and you will stand in utter awe of what happens in your life.”

~ Rhonda Byrne

My Top Ten Thanksgiving Gratitudes

I am still getting over the fact that another year is coming to a close, but the recent Thanksgiving Day observance confirms that I am not dreaming. I try to plant gratitude seeds every day, but this is the official season for a gratitude post. So, this is my top 10 gratitude list from Thanksgiving Day:

  1. My five senses, so that I could see the beautiful faces of my loves as we gathered together, hear the cacophony of children laughing, football games on the television, silverware colliding with plates as the ravenous group savored the first bites of dinner, and snippets of conversation, touch the warm hands holding mine as I said grace, smell the marriage of the various dishes as they cooked, and speak the pre-feast prayer of gratitude to God for past, present and future blessings.
  2. The crackling sound and dancing flames of the fireplace as they warm our body and soul.
  3. Family and friends, those present, far away, and no longer with us.
  4. The fact that I am surrounded by loved one, and have food to eat, and a warm gathering place in which to enjoy the day.
  5. The present moment and belief that all is as it should be.
  6. The face of my beautiful mother cooking beside me when so many feel the loss of theirs.
  7. Watching the treasured and familiar “It’s A Wonderful Life” which serves as a reminder that we positively affect more lives than we know.
  8. The laughter that ensued as everyone shared their favorite scenes from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. (If you haven’t seen this hysterical movie, it is a Christmas must-see.)
  9. At the end of the day, the feast put away, not a dirty dish in sight, and I did not have to lift one hand to make it happen.
  10. . After all is said and done, the feeling of accomplishment and love for another successful holiday gathering.

There you have it. My Top 10 gratitude list. What about you? What’s on your “gratitude” list?

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