Friday, November 30, 2018

Last Day of November

We had an extra week after Thanksgiving before Christmas this year. Maybe that's why November went so fast.

I don't know why I just put on the collection of songs I made on Spotify to remember Adam by starting with Jack Johnson's version of Imagine. Oh dear, how it puts me back to finding out  the worst news of my life. This past Sunday I had more crying spells than I've had in a good long time.

I did go through all the ornaments this week and made the tree look halfway decent. I hadn't done that since Adam died. I don't think I bothered to decorate at all the first year. The second Christmas, I half-assed it.

I'm cleaning out the closet known as the "Harry Potter Closet" under the stairs to find the Christmas wrappings and get rid of some the repository of sh-- that I've thrown in there over the years. There are things I just can't throw out...the Teavana box from the last Christmas gift Adam gave me to name one. I know it's stupid, it's just a box (and a very pretty one at that and I've always been a sucker for boxes).

I keep coming back to the computer to listen to the playlist. I'm not fancy enough for a blue tooth speaker like everyone else. I'm not making good progress on the closet.

Did I mention Adam liked the song Fast Car by Tracey Chapman? I listened the heck out of that album when I was pregnant in 1987-88. It must have passed through to him. Songs like The Rip Tide had extra meaning for me after Adam's death. Rip my heart out. Which I am grateful for, for I know I loved.

Everything that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.
--Franz Kafka and the Pervasiveness of Loss 

Tuesday, November 06, 2018

November 2012

He always took his shoes and socks off first. We could always find rolled up socks on the living room floor when Adam visited. He was always the last to bed and usually the last to get up.



2012 sounds like a long time ago, but it doesn't feel that long ago. This picture came up on my Facebook memories today from 6 years ago:




When I look through that folder of pictures it looks like the day my mom went over to Springfield with me and we had lunch at the Chesapeake with Adam. We took some blustery pictures at Scheel's messing around on the statues. It's a blustery day today, also gloomy.


Mr. Lincoln, I presume


Here is mom at lunch looking delighted! 

Time goes so fast, people. So fast. Do not take one day or hour or minute for granted. 







Sunday, November 04, 2018

Darker Days Ahead

As the hubbub of October events draw to an end, and the time changes backwards, I have been feeling the familiar constriction in my whole being as winter approaches and the sun hangs lower. The holidays used to be a bright spot, but now they are a reminder of the one who is not here.

Don't get me wrong, I have moments of contentment and even joy, many of them. Acceptance of Adam's death grows stronger. There are days I believe all lives are short, even those who live to 100, and we will all be together somewhere sooner than later. I'm reminded that the pleasure of growing old or older is compromised by seeing more and more death. A 55 year old woman died this week in our little town, the mayor's wife, who was seemingly full of beauty and light. We will all deal with death in time, so that is comforting and makes me more human. I'm nothing special.

So it is time to hunker down and focus on projects that can be done indoors, and keeping as physically active as I can (thank you fitbit). And before I blink my eyes, spring will be here again, and the cycle continues.

Sunset on the labyrinth