No matter how much I work on the whole notion of birth and death being part of life, the death piece always takes me by surprise. Babies come into this world and we are filled with elation at all that is to come. It's all about potential and knowing that in your hands lies this little being who is going to experience such unfathomable joy. You also know that sadness will find its way into this little life but it's mostly about joy. This new person will know love from his/her mom, dad, grandparents, aunties and uncles. He/she will learn new things with every passing day. He/she will babble, giggle, and laugh out loud from way down deep. He/she will learn that life is at its very core about being happy. He/she will grow up, find his/her way in the world, develop a passion for something or 2 or 3 somethings, fall in love, have babies, grow old and die. He/she will leave behind a legacy of a life well lived but for his/her loved ones in his/her place is a giant hole where a loved one once lived, breathed and loved. Yes, no matter how much we rationalize that death is part of life, at the end the ones left in its wake feel such sadness and loss. We must somehow pick ourselves up and learn to live life without that person who has been such a vital part of our own living.
Yesterday, the Sutter community said good-bye to Carol Ragsdale. You can say a lot of things about Carol. She was an amazing teacher, in a class by herself. She lived her life the way she wanted. In the end she lost her battle with cancer but not without one heck of a fight. On one hand you can feel relief that it is over but on the other, there is only sadness. She died too young. I doubt that she would have ever retired but she could have experienced the joy of more time with her husband, children and grandchildren. She could have seen more beautiful things in the world. She could have just been among us modeling, guiding and cheering on the next generation of amazing teachers. She indeed left an amazing legacy but in her place in a giant hole.
Birth is what can be and death is what could have been. Birth brings such joy that I think I will explode and likewise I am desperately overwhelmed with the sadness that death brings. But it also motivates me to renew the promise to myself to live life on my own terms. We don't know the number of days we have here or the hugs that we will have time to give. So we better not miss any of those opportunities - chances to love, to laugh and to just be with those we love to laugh with.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Leaving Town
Today I made my way up to the pumpkin festival in Half Moon Bay. It is hard to believe but it is the first time I have been out of the San Jose city limits since the first of August. The pumpkin festival is one that I rarely miss. It has always been my favorite. I love fall and I love pumpkin anything so it is the perfect place for me. I have many fond memories of the festival over the past 30 years or so. I loved going with the kids but Ralph hated the traffic and crowds so we probably went with them every couple years or so. But I don't think I've missed one since I have been on my own.
The drive up 280 was so beautiful this morning. Seeing the light reflecting off the trees and hills almost brought tears to my eyes. Then I realized, I really do need to get out more. Even though I am on a tight budget there is still money enough for a ride out of town. And it is necessary to get my head out the business and into all the wonderful things that are out in the world only minutes away. As I continued the drive over 92 I reveled in being under the towering trees. I was being bombarded by beauty every second of the way. Yes, I HAVE to get out more. On the way home I went south along highway 1. I had the ocean on my right and the pumpkin farms on my left. Beauty. Beauty. Beauty.
As I got closer to home my mind wandered to those Sunday drives we took as a family growing up. Is this what they were about? Just getting out of your environment and seeing something new is enough to realign your vision. Perhaps I need to add this to my weekly agenda. Sunday: Get in the car and go somewhere. Let go of your worries. Open your eyes and take it all in.
The drive up 280 was so beautiful this morning. Seeing the light reflecting off the trees and hills almost brought tears to my eyes. Then I realized, I really do need to get out more. Even though I am on a tight budget there is still money enough for a ride out of town. And it is necessary to get my head out the business and into all the wonderful things that are out in the world only minutes away. As I continued the drive over 92 I reveled in being under the towering trees. I was being bombarded by beauty every second of the way. Yes, I HAVE to get out more. On the way home I went south along highway 1. I had the ocean on my right and the pumpkin farms on my left. Beauty. Beauty. Beauty.
As I got closer to home my mind wandered to those Sunday drives we took as a family growing up. Is this what they were about? Just getting out of your environment and seeing something new is enough to realign your vision. Perhaps I need to add this to my weekly agenda. Sunday: Get in the car and go somewhere. Let go of your worries. Open your eyes and take it all in.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Flashes of the Past
In this new life with toddlers I am constantly catching myself in moments of deja vu. There will just be a funny little feeling and I'll realize that I have done this before. It is accompanied with feelings of contentment or sometimes exhaustion. I am momentarily confused until I take the time to think about what I'm doing.
When I have my "light" days, we try to get out of the house. Sometimes that is a wagon walk and sometimes it is a short trip to the park. Our walks usually include a visit to one of the fountains in the area. There's just something about water and kids. I vividly remember frequently taking my own children to the fountain at the post office. A trip to post office always included time to put our hands in the water and walk the perimeter several times. Dave also wanted to dig for the pennies that had been dropped there but these kids haven't been allowed that adventure yet. Walking the blocks to the post office I often feel like I am stepping in my own footprints from the past. Everything feels the same - the excitement that the kids feel when the moment their hands hit the water, the fun of making hand prints along the bricks, the fear I have that one will eventually fall in, the risk of walking the wall once, twice, three times until I finally say that it's time to go which is followed by sighs of disappointment. We leave by way of Monroe Street so we can see the Ball Fountain by the bus stop. Then we head for home and they talk about it all the way there.
Last week we took out the Memory game for the first time. The big kids and I played around with the cards and I had the strangest feeling about it all. Then I remembered how Dave loved playing with Memory cards. He would play it over and over again until no one else was interested in continuing the game. Whenever I would ask what he wanted to play, he would choose Memory. That was a memory that I would have thought was lost forever.
I love reliving these moments of motherhood. They always bring a smile and some kind of crazy warmth to my heart. I was blessed to be able to hang out with my kids before they headed off to school and now I am double blessed to be able to live it all a second time.
When I have my "light" days, we try to get out of the house. Sometimes that is a wagon walk and sometimes it is a short trip to the park. Our walks usually include a visit to one of the fountains in the area. There's just something about water and kids. I vividly remember frequently taking my own children to the fountain at the post office. A trip to post office always included time to put our hands in the water and walk the perimeter several times. Dave also wanted to dig for the pennies that had been dropped there but these kids haven't been allowed that adventure yet. Walking the blocks to the post office I often feel like I am stepping in my own footprints from the past. Everything feels the same - the excitement that the kids feel when the moment their hands hit the water, the fun of making hand prints along the bricks, the fear I have that one will eventually fall in, the risk of walking the wall once, twice, three times until I finally say that it's time to go which is followed by sighs of disappointment. We leave by way of Monroe Street so we can see the Ball Fountain by the bus stop. Then we head for home and they talk about it all the way there.
Last week we took out the Memory game for the first time. The big kids and I played around with the cards and I had the strangest feeling about it all. Then I remembered how Dave loved playing with Memory cards. He would play it over and over again until no one else was interested in continuing the game. Whenever I would ask what he wanted to play, he would choose Memory. That was a memory that I would have thought was lost forever.
I love reliving these moments of motherhood. They always bring a smile and some kind of crazy warmth to my heart. I was blessed to be able to hang out with my kids before they headed off to school and now I am double blessed to be able to live it all a second time.
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