fly away

Originally published on To S and From S.

Dear Shari,

I hope you are feeling better by now. It’s no fun being sick — but hey, at least it’s winter, right?

I’m enjoying these letters so much, but I’ll admit I got a little stuck writing this letter. Because we lost Grandpa two nights ago.

There’s so much I want to tell you. Not only about these last days but about a man’s entire lifetime. 94 1/2 years of lifetime. 94 years, can you imagine? He once was a boy with a twin sister and six older siblings. He married his high school sweetheart, joined the Air Force, became a colonel, served in two wars. He navigated planes by the stars. The husband. The father of four. The grandfather, the great grandfather, the great great grandfather. He was a good man. Always teared up when he talked about his family. Loved birding and passed that joy down to my mom and me. And never did you see such a fine head of white hair than on Grandpa. In these last months, I took every opportunity to run my hands through it. He never seemed to mind and trust me, he told you when he did mind.

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My emotions are swirling and complex, especially after the past years, months, days when I felt closer than ever to Grandpa — while questioning how that could be since the dementia surely got in the way. But today I’m reconciling that web of perplexing questions to honor what I know in my heart. It doesn’t matter if all those hours and moments we spent together never became new memories for him. We got to walk, talk, sit, and be in the present together. It doesn’t matter if those times weren’t always easy or happy. What matters is I got to show up. I got to be by his side, even on bad days. I got lots of little stories I can hold dear (and so did my boys). I got to love and try my best. I got to kiss his head and tell him I loved him every single time. I got to say goodbye one last time. And I got to feel all of it.

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We celebrated my birthday at the birdplace in 2008. I was so excited to take Grandpa there (here with baby Leo).

 

owling

been on a golden hour owling binge, what can i say? been out there three nights in a row. the first night we saw the owl, i had my camera settings all messed up and i was too busy screaming and happy cursing to get any good photos. but at least my friends M and T and Clyde were there with me to witness the magic.

trying to learn to BE in my body whilst seeing an owl. and it seems to be getting better. here are some of the best shots from the past few nights. i might go again tonight. there is simply no such thing as too much barn owl in my life.

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nothing doing

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been thinking how happy i am to be getting back to friendship. the old way of friendship. the lazy, sitting around, feet pulled up underneath us, doing nothing kind of friendships. this is how friendship felt in my 20s before real adulthood (and for some of us, motherhood) set in, and god, have i missed it. all the busy-ness has filled up our lives to the point where we can’t even find the time to sit around without making appointments on our calendars. got time to do nothing with me on saturday? yes? great!

for me, nothing-doing has been sorely missed. i’m really feeling done with clicking on the same dozen sites over and over, just longing for connection. that connection and contentedness of good old fashioned, face to face nothing-doing.

let’s bring it back, shall we?

not writing

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writing my one paragraph tonight in order to say i’m not writing. i’m not. there is simply no way. i am tired. i am empty. there is nothing to say. and i can’t string together thoughts right now. need to find me some inspiration stat. tried poetry. tried reading some of my faves. looking at photos. but nothing is pushing forth the writing. maybe if i left my house once in awhile… haha.

got any ideas, friends? i’m stuck.