Rain is pattering on the window this New Year’s Eve.
I don’t remember that ever happening before.
Melting the snow. Cleaning the muddy detritus hidden in the snow. Pushing it out and down the drains.
Thanks for reading and commenting and camaraderie this past year!
It’s gonna be 2011, dammit, and it’s time to get that jetpack they promised me when I was 10!
5 years ago today was my Marilyn’s last full day on earth.
I suppose she watched Charlie Rose and then Murder, She Wrote. Cooed to Rudy as she got up and shuffled over into the kitchen to pick out today’s tin for him. Glanced outside at her patio, her chairs and a couple storage tubs in disarray under the snow, thinking about the clean up and little improvements out there I was going to do for her come spring. Frowned, horrified and heartbroken, when she clicked through the channels stopping for a couple minutes on news of the tsunami disaster that had happened the day before.
And she probably fell asleep in her comfy chair, in pain from the MS and her slowly healing appendectomy a month before, to wake up in the middle of the night. And knew something was more wrong that usual…
Posted in life, memory
Tagged day, death, life
Lately I’ve been thinking about the realization that I’ve forgotten more then I remember. I cannot for the life of me remember what I got or gave two Christmases ago, and all but a handful of the presents I got from and gave to Marilyn.
Maybe I’m just at the moment experiencing the inevitable letdown, or lowering of my guard, after my – for me – hectic and full week and Christmas weekend.
I think about each of our uniquenesses, even my uniqueness, and that that uniqueness will be muted, and eventually dissipated as we will be.
Somehow, I think I am looking at this the wrong way. Or rather, that there is a way to look at this in a way that will create value, and even hope, in the face of it.
Getting dressed and ready to go to early choir prep for the church’s 11:00 pm Christmas Eve service (it’s the only one for Christmas).
Just showered again, getting into fresh clothes, drinking coffee. This is strange – I am not a night person anymore, and I haven’t attended a high church service since I was 17.
I am new to church – as I have mentioned I was raised a Roman Catholic, but never a believer (when I received my Confirmation at 13 I was already an atheist), and spent my adult life from 20 to 47 as a practicing Soka Gakkai Buddhist.
Now I am a participant in the local Unitarian Universalist Church. I haven’t “signed the book” yet, but I have pledged a token donation. I am in the choir, and plan to be in the adult sex education series this winter. Yeah, it’s a cool church – I was told 23% of the congregants are atheists as well.
Steeped in American Transcendentalism and in-your-face social activism – in 1969 they gave refuge to several draft dodgers who, apparently, were invited to live for days in the sanctuary – taking that traditional law of sanctuary literally – until the FBI and local police got tired and stormed in, knocking down the congregants amassed to shield the dodgers with their rifle butts.
This is the view from my seat in the choir loft. Raised as a Roman Catholic, I find churches lugubrious, but I am getting used to this one, even with its massive wood vaulting and its stone walls. Part of my being there is honoring my heritage. I sing the hymns – and for now the Christmas carols – that my great great great great great great grandparents, in both Britain and Germany, sang – my grandfathers with their friends over tankards perhaps, my grandmothers to their babies.
How does soap work? Do the soap molecules surround and grab and pinch the dirt molecules off your skin molecules? Do the dirt molecules scream in protest, but they’re just too small for us to hear?
Has my new guinea pig Mullet ever had an orgasm? If she hasn’t, does she know what she’s missing?
How does the woman who does my wash & fold at the laundromat not know what pants creases are? Don’t women just know that kind of thing?
How come the food you make with old bread – bread pudding, croutons – tastes better than new bread? Is “fresh” bread the green olives of the baking world?