I have not wanted to write this post.
Writing the words would make it true.
There is no escaping that my sweet Ginny is gone.
Eight days after my post
Loving an old dog she collapsed and died.
Probably a heart attack. Possibly a stroke.
It doesn’t matter. She is gone.
Ginny jumped in my lap in the car. Something spooked her. Fortunately, the car was parked. ~Photo Lori Greer in Portland My sweet Ginny
She was always with me patiently waiting in the car while I ran errands, going on walks, strolling though Home Depot, sunning herself on the patio and, in the last few months, sleeping by the fire.
I miss that sweet face, that wagging tail, her big head resting in my lap.
I miss hugging her and talking to her.
I miss taking care of her.
I miss her.
As I was walking out the door this morning for an 8:30 appointment, my phone rang.
It was my 3-year old granddaughter calling for a video chat.
Of course I took the call. I was prepared to be late or miss my appointment.
A minute later her sweet little face popped up on my screen.
Continue reading “Little Girl in Distress”
Give thanks for unknown blessings that are already on their way. ~ Native American prayer
Blessings I know about.
The love of family.
The love of friends both near and far.
My sweet dog Ginny.
My good health.
My warm house.
The unknown blessings will be a joy unexpected.
~Photo Lisa Fotios/www.pexels.com~
While my daughter-in-law was fighting for her life, my life was on hold.
For over for three years.
I could not commit to anything.
I was always ready to help when needed.
Now that she has passed, I have the freedom to plan a trip, enroll in a course…fun things.
But, I have no energy and very little interest.
~Photo Keenan Constance, http://www.pexels.com~
Life is out of focus.
I know that this will pass.
But, for now I am in the throes of making it through each day.
I am walking and walking and walking.
I am working at my job.
I do yoga most days.
I try to meditate but with little success so I listen to classical music.
I cook dishes that require lots of dicing and slicing.
I clean out closets and drawers.
I am treading water waiting for my energy to return.
Treading water doesn’t move me closer to shore but it beats sinking.
Am I treading or flailing about?
Note to self. Not very well-written. I will do better when my feet touch bottom and I can stumble to shore.
I felt it shelter to speak to you. ~Emily Dickinson
Thank you, my friends, for your kind and loving words at the death of my daughter-in-law.
I read them all and was comforted by them.
They were a shelter, a safe place to grieve.
Thank you for being with me.
Fall in Portland, Oregon Photo Lori Greer in Portland
That’s what priests say when a person is departing.
Continue reading “Traveling Mercies”
The day of my husband’s funeral the sun was shining.
The sky was blue with little wisps of clouds.
The air was crisp.
It was a beautiful day.
Continue reading “Hello Beautiful Day*”
Ambushed walking down the street.
Minding my own business.
Nothing in particular on my mind.
Then I saw this beautiful car.
I had to stop and look.
Continue reading “Silly Woman Crying”