Journal
Journal
| Just Desserts | |||||
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October 19,
2007
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Farewell to My Home |
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November 27,
2007, 21:57 There will come a time—hopefully not soon—when "you can't take it with you" will have clear and present meaning, when it could dawn on me in a flood of loving light that I had focused so much on beautiful matter that I had given little thought to what you can take with you. To that end, I'm choosing to see this passage as an opportunity for adventure and new beginnings at a time when many are settling comfortably into retirement...playing golf, watching TV, and--shudder--putting on pounds. So, then, what next? I'm guessing I'll spend a few days, at least, camping out at the studio, trying madly to catch up on work I've let slide while, alternately, primping the house and grieving its loss. There is much to sort through after 30 years, and I'm having to face the fact that my love of simplicity is in perpetual conflict with my passion for exquisite things. I've been downsizing for some time, to be sure, replacing big items with small ones that do more than one thing...like my tiny camera, lovely new photo all-in-one printer, and, of course, blacmac. But, over all, there is much sorting to do, and it's so tempting just to put everything in bags and donate it all to charity. That's not the answer, of course...throwing things into bags is not charity and it's certainly not responsible stewardship of what I've been given. So I'll do the sorting and the emotional process that goes with it--something that definitely cannot be put in a bag and given to charity!
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| ...And Farewell to my Father | |||||
January 05, 2008, 22:13 It's Twelfth Night, which in olden times preceded, rather than followed, Twelfth Day. Having duly removed all traces of Christmas to prevent bad luck in the new year and burned bits of the greenery to symbolize release of the old to make way for the new, I'm ready to face my personal Epiphany...that I have just become fatherless and homeless on the same day.My father passed away yesterday, January 4, between 4:45 and 5:30 A.M. He was at the veterans' home in Temple, where he had just begun hospice care. I pray that his passing was a peaceful one, and that he has found his way to the Light. Though his last years were burdened with growing dementia and heart-breaking homesickness, he remained true to his nature by entertaining both residents and staff alike with his charm, intelligence, and wit. I had visited him with his namesake, my daughter, Toni, two days before Christmas. We were not certain he knew who we were...he had lapsed into his native Spanish, repeating over and over, "me duele el corazón...quiero ir afuera" ("my heart hurts...I want to go out"). Later we were to learn that he had apparently suffered a series of small heart attacks and was unlikely to be with us much longer. Even so, we didn't dream he would go so quickly! He had been in and out of clarity so many times but always rallied back to recognize us the next time. I haven't fully grasped yet that there will not be a next time. Between calls to notify relatives of our loss, I prepared and faxed my acceptance of an offer for my house. I am delighted with the potential buyers and hope that the sale goes through, though I don't know yet where I'll go. As with my father's passing, it will take awhile to adjust to the fact that the loss is permanent and that once I have left, there will not be a next time. As I typed the last sentence, my Pando Calendar popped up a little window that said, "But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, 'Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.'" --Matthew 14:27
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Last
birthday in my real home
