My View from the Top of the World

My grandfather passed away a month before Christmas when I was ten.  It was my first experience with the death of someone close to me, and my heart was broken in to pieces.  Granddad had been living with us through the end stages of his lung cancer.  Every evening before I went to bed, I sat with him to chat about the day.  He used to watch a TV program called "Songs of Praise," and I remember the sound of a choir singing hymns floating around our home.  Because of the season of his death, the carol, "In the Bleak Midwinter" has always taken me back to those precious evenings developing a closeness with my Granddad that was destined to break my heart.  My father died on a Wednesday morning at 5:45am. For several months afterwards, on Wednesdays, at 5:45am, as I was running up the hill towards my home, I would hear a particular song on my playlist. The song continues to hold special meaning - along with several others - and I continue to hear it played a...

  And, what a summer it was.  People ask me, "how was your summer?"  And I don't know how to answer.  I can't gleefully exclaim, "great!" because it wasn't.  But, it wasn't awful either.  Summer was everything you'd expect it to be when your family is traveling together through transition.  We had joy, stress, laughter, tension, frustration, happiness, tenderness, exhaustion, fear... we experienced all of it.  Weddings, travel, adventure, vacations, moves, and the logistics of keeping my mum contented and safe through it all.  And we did it.  Together, we did it.   Then, as the new school year approached, I found myself frozen and unable (unwilling?) to step out of my family organizer and caregiver role, and back into my "normal" roles as wife, mother, friend, counselor. After several months of forced family fun, and, to be honest, total chaos, I wasn't sure I could face my own high expectations of a new school year.  For ...

  Mum often calls me with concern in her voice, over one thing or another.  I'll spend some time chatting with her and we will end our conversation by repeating to each other, "all is well."  These three little words have become words of comfort to Mum and me, since the poem of the same name, by Henry Scott-Holland, was shared with me after my father's death.  The end of the poem says,  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval,  Somewhere very near,  Just around the corner,  All is Well For Mum and me, these words are a comforting reminder that Dad is here, still a part of our lives, and that all is completely well.  These words, have become something of a mantra when we are maneuvering through life's challenges.  Gamma - so many of us know her as Gamma - has dementia.  We've seen it coming for a while, and it was recently made official.  The diagnosis, in my mind, changes...

This could be long, it could be short.  I'm not really sure what I'm doing, and I'm not really sure where I'm going with this.  For the last several months, I've not been writing regularly, and I've not been writing for myself or from my heart... I've been writing (or not writing) with the needs of others in mind. There's a very specific reason for this, and the reason isn't pretty, and it's not self nurturing.  I won't go into it further than that, but I just want you to know that even when something shitty happens, it's an opportunity to look inside, dig deep, and decide what you want out of a situation.  I'm not trying to be overly positive or Pollyanna-ish (just one of my toxic traits), I'm just being real.  I get a kick out of figuring things out and making things better.  For myself.  I get a kick out of helping myself back up the mountain after spending some time at the bottom.  But, writing is fun for me.  And it's goo...