My dad died two and a half weeks ago. Dad had Parkinson’s for twenty plus years and finally succumbed to this wretched disease via a choking incident that left him with aspirated pneumonia. I could talk at length about the week that dad lay dying in the hospital and all the feelings that evoked in …
When my mother turned 65, my sisters and I had pre-planned a quiet celebration for her at a local café called Samuel’s. We met on a dreary Sunday afternoon for chai lattes, specialty coffees and cheesecake, while rain misted the windows and sidewalks outside the old heritage building housing the restaurant. Upon leaving, we huddled …
I am walking tonight- solo, as the Two Youngest have a friend over and Husband is on duty back on the home front. I miss my walking partner on nights like this. Nights when it feels I am the Lonesome Isolated- walking when the rest of the world is doing more important things, living out …
It is hard to understand, to fully comprehend: how someone who brought so much joy to other peoples’ lives could himself be eluded by that same joy and wonder. And yet, here we are on a Tuesday night, grieving the loss of a beautiful life- grief those of us who loved his work feel in …
I watch him build the wooden walls of his tower, painstakingly. One by one. They stand in solidarity for mere moments, only to topple before even I can add another brick. This is child’s play, and it is fascinating to watch him. These walls are made for crashing, in his view. In his mind’s eye. …
Cool winds blow as the sun goes down on yet another work week. I grab my laptop computer from the back seat of the van- a bag full of papers, my purse and jacket, then head for the house. Stone walkway under my feet showing signs of wear. Four cats waiting on the steps. And …
There are days when frost covers barren ground. Like a heavy cloak. When tiny buds on frozen tree limbs shimmer with an icy glaze. When tiny shoots of new life, thwarted in process of emerging forth. Are interrupted. Dark, heavy clouds hang low and ready. There are these kinds of days. When table talk is …
Is it possible to live life without regrets? To ‘do it up right’? To both live and finish life with a feeling of satisfaction, with a sense of accomplishment and pride that one has given one’s best? And lived one’s life to the fullest of potential? And if so, how is this done? If not …
After a busy day at church, complete with a Sunday School Christmas concert practice, accompaniment on piano during the service and a fellowship meal to prepare, eat and then clean up, the last thing I feel like doing is digging out Christmas ornaments to deck the halls. Falalala….falafel. ‘Cause I feel like the former ground-up …
I sometimes think about alternatives. What is it that makes one conversation interesting and another one not so much? Why is it that one minute I am happy and another minute, sad? Why are lions not tame and puppies wild? Why is dessert last and veggies first? Why am I so consumed with alternatives and …
