We put our daughter and granddaughter on the plane today. It makes me teary, but happy. I had two kids living in NYC on 9/11, and they made it through fine. A third was outside of Philadelphia. It was ten days before the fourth's wedding. I remember the fear and relief when we reached everyone, and how brave they were to fly out for the wedding so soon after such scary events. I remember thinking, when the airports were grounded, I'd have to drive out to get them and it would take several days! They seemed too far away then.
Sudden changes are shock producing, and yet, and yet, mostly we adjust to our new reality and make the best of it. I'm adjusting to being without the little granddaughter, and to being 65, and to all the shifts that make up my world. The boat is always rocking, sometimes gently, sometimes violently, and we hang on with both hands and try to appreciate the sea spray.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 9, 2010
I visited our younger daughter's elementary school where she teaches, and it was so warm and inviting and friendly. I think she is lucky to be a part of such a sweet school. Sometimes, in our twenties, we don't realize what we have and appreciate it. I hope she gets it. Otherwise, we keep searching for something better, and what we really are searching for is right inside us, if we dare look. The right environment is there, if we could bring an openness and gratitude to it.
Watching my kids' grow through their twenties and thirties and now the beginning of the forties is a window into my own state of mind in those decades. I see things, maybe not more clearly, but differently now. I see my big issues. In my twenties I was struggling to find my own path away from my parents, and reacting to ideas rather than my heart. In my thirties I wanted to find work I felt was meaningful and establish ground rules with my family. In my forties I was able to feel more comfortable in my skin, and expand my sense of joy and sorrow. In my fifties I wished to tackle the big philosophical questions and practice my spirituality. In my sixties I want to set my house in order, treasure my connections with people, and honor my body and mind. I am also letting go of a lot of trying to control things or people, and looking for that moment of joy and laughter, and savoring it when it appears.
Gross generalities, but somewhat true, and I get to revisit my whole life, by witnessing my kids and now grandkids' experiences. It's fascinating.
Watching my kids' grow through their twenties and thirties and now the beginning of the forties is a window into my own state of mind in those decades. I see things, maybe not more clearly, but differently now. I see my big issues. In my twenties I was struggling to find my own path away from my parents, and reacting to ideas rather than my heart. In my thirties I wanted to find work I felt was meaningful and establish ground rules with my family. In my forties I was able to feel more comfortable in my skin, and expand my sense of joy and sorrow. In my fifties I wished to tackle the big philosophical questions and practice my spirituality. In my sixties I want to set my house in order, treasure my connections with people, and honor my body and mind. I am also letting go of a lot of trying to control things or people, and looking for that moment of joy and laughter, and savoring it when it appears.
Gross generalities, but somewhat true, and I get to revisit my whole life, by witnessing my kids and now grandkids' experiences. It's fascinating.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 8, 2010
My older daughter, granddaughter and I went to tea in the city for my birthday, and we all three had a lovely time. Having three generations together was touching for me, and the granddaughter did very well, if not with the eating part, with her acute sense of observance. Near the end of the tea she took a small notebook and pen and played the part of waitress with us, then with strangers, and got miffed when our waitress didn't take her order and carry it to the counter. It's nice to know she'll have a vocation when she's older, like at four.
She was also a great sport at our dinner out that night, and ate well, when she wasn't visiting various ones of us at the table. She has a big crush on my younger daughter's boyfriend, so she got carted all around, and received slices of pink apple from the chef. Her subjects adored her. We all basked in her fresh, outgoing, happy newness. The world is her oyster.
I was missing our older son, who is in India, and his wife, who is at the bedside of her dying stepfather. But with our busy, far flung family, it was a blessing so many were with me at my passage into my fifty sixth year. A couple of dear friends were there as well. Friends and family, well, that is what it's all about for me.
She was also a great sport at our dinner out that night, and ate well, when she wasn't visiting various ones of us at the table. She has a big crush on my younger daughter's boyfriend, so she got carted all around, and received slices of pink apple from the chef. Her subjects adored her. We all basked in her fresh, outgoing, happy newness. The world is her oyster.
I was missing our older son, who is in India, and his wife, who is at the bedside of her dying stepfather. But with our busy, far flung family, it was a blessing so many were with me at my passage into my fifty sixth year. A couple of dear friends were there as well. Friends and family, well, that is what it's all about for me.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 7, 2010
We had a great weekend up at the cabin, swimming and boating and walking. Then a long, trafficy drive home. Oh, well, going anywhere on Labor Day weekend is risky business. It was worth it to get away, stare at the lake, and search the skies for Osprey. The dogs always act like what can we be thinking when we head back home. They'd be happy chasing sticks in the lake for the rest of their lives. But they are back to hunting for fallen apples and stealing socks.
This morning my husband decided to inform our insurance company that my Medicare had begun, and first they said we shouldn't have filed for Part B, which is what they had previously instructed me to do, but after thirty minutes on the phone it was semi straightened out. Oh the joy of bureauracy. They contradict themselves! Welcome to serious old age.
Despite breaking a toe falling over backwards on the rocks on the lake, I don't feel too much more decrepit than last week. It's my husband who has strained his back (a chronic problem for him) and boy is he grumpy. He doesn't want to face the doctor, because he hasn't done the exercises, or any of the other things the doctor annually recommends. At least I know it usually gets better without doing anything right. But I nicknamed him Titanic this morning, as he lists to the side.
So maybe we're both slowly sinking, but still. There is music playing, we're among friends, and the vast wide ocean is part of this old earth and our experience on it.
This morning my husband decided to inform our insurance company that my Medicare had begun, and first they said we shouldn't have filed for Part B, which is what they had previously instructed me to do, but after thirty minutes on the phone it was semi straightened out. Oh the joy of bureauracy. They contradict themselves! Welcome to serious old age.
Despite breaking a toe falling over backwards on the rocks on the lake, I don't feel too much more decrepit than last week. It's my husband who has strained his back (a chronic problem for him) and boy is he grumpy. He doesn't want to face the doctor, because he hasn't done the exercises, or any of the other things the doctor annually recommends. At least I know it usually gets better without doing anything right. But I nicknamed him Titanic this morning, as he lists to the side.
So maybe we're both slowly sinking, but still. There is music playing, we're among friends, and the vast wide ocean is part of this old earth and our experience on it.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 3, 2010
I've been up since 6:30 am. We took our daughter-in-law to the airport, then separated for a bunch of errands before our daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter arrive this evening. But we had wine at lunch, and now both feel sleepy. Maybe there needs to be a break before vacuuming. It's so much work just to get the house in order, and I do not mean super clean, I just mean halfway decent.
And I need to do the same for myself. Brush my hair, maybe shave my legs. Change outfits, but not until I've made most of the dinner. But right now, a nice snooze would be good. Ah, the delightful nap, the soft pillow, the firm mattress. Ah, my bed. Kiss, kiss, kiss. I love my bed. And a little nap before the tornado that is my granddaughter stirs up a storm in the house, with her enthusiasms, and toys and books, and snacks and booster seats and potty chairs. A little calm before the storm. Ah, nap.
And I need to do the same for myself. Brush my hair, maybe shave my legs. Change outfits, but not until I've made most of the dinner. But right now, a nice snooze would be good. Ah, the delightful nap, the soft pillow, the firm mattress. Ah, my bed. Kiss, kiss, kiss. I love my bed. And a little nap before the tornado that is my granddaughter stirs up a storm in the house, with her enthusiasms, and toys and books, and snacks and booster seats and potty chairs. A little calm before the storm. Ah, nap.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 2, 2010
My foster granddaughter's mother sent five pictures of her on her first day of kindergarten. Evidently, she said, "I very love it in kindergarten". And my almost 2 1/2 year old granddaughter begins preschool in October. Big transitions. What a treat to witness them grow and brave new situations and reach out into the world. And my younger daughter is challenging herself teaching first grade. I'm pretty sure she's more nervous than either of the granddaughters, because they feel under the protection of their families, and she is old enough to know she's out there on her own. A lot of stuff comes up for us at such times. Change is hard. And no matter how many times we do it, we often forget that it gets harder before it gets better.
Today is the anniversary of a dear friend's death. He died at 46. His children were young when he died, and his wife was a widow for a dozen years before she met a man with whom she now shares her life. I haven't seen her this happy in so long. She had a long transition. She was on her own, except she had a lot of friends and family who were there for her. We're all alone in this strange way, but we can be alone with other people who know and understand that aloneness. Surviving change makes us stronger, some say, and usually that is true, but not always. We have to work to keep surviving, and I've known friends who just quit. I know my parents were fighters, and I'm grateful for that. I know what it looks like, and I'm biochemically predisposed to meet the challenges. I'm fortunate.
None of us knows what the future holds for us. And it doesn't do much good to rake over the past. We've got this moment, and feeling grateful for it makes it come alive. And in this moment reside images of these little ones jumping the hurdles, and those who met a hurdle they couldn't overcome. They're all here, with me, now, alive, and honored.
Today is the anniversary of a dear friend's death. He died at 46. His children were young when he died, and his wife was a widow for a dozen years before she met a man with whom she now shares her life. I haven't seen her this happy in so long. She had a long transition. She was on her own, except she had a lot of friends and family who were there for her. We're all alone in this strange way, but we can be alone with other people who know and understand that aloneness. Surviving change makes us stronger, some say, and usually that is true, but not always. We have to work to keep surviving, and I've known friends who just quit. I know my parents were fighters, and I'm grateful for that. I know what it looks like, and I'm biochemically predisposed to meet the challenges. I'm fortunate.
None of us knows what the future holds for us. And it doesn't do much good to rake over the past. We've got this moment, and feeling grateful for it makes it come alive. And in this moment reside images of these little ones jumping the hurdles, and those who met a hurdle they couldn't overcome. They're all here, with me, now, alive, and honored.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Old Age Day by Day September 1, 2010
A few days ago the dogs barked late at night and my husband let them out, and they chased something to the fence, froze, and hightailed it back to the kitchen and stood there waiting for my husband to do something. He'd heard a scream-like sound, and couldn't figure out what it was. I was guessing raccoons, and forgot about it until reading the paper this morning. A few blocks from us the police shot and killed a mountain lion. I've seen huge deer, raccoons and oppossums, and wild turkeys, but a mountain lion in our city is surprising. It must have come down from the park at the upper edge of the city, or the foothills, but why?
We had a great, wet spring, and it seems like there are plenty of critters to eat. So what was she doing? And now they've killed her. I know they couldn't do much else - she was in someone's back yard and had been wandering all around, but it's sad. The intersection of wildlife and urban is almost always tragic. The roadkill that is along every highway testifies to our maiming and mauling of these beautiful creatures. My Buddhist teacher often stops for roadkill animals and prays for them. She also takes them home and lets their bodies decompose. While she watches the changes in the carcass she meditates on change, dying and death.
On summer, on a retreat at her place, I sketched some of her dead birds, a sturgeon, a turtle, a snake and a mouse in their various stages of disintegration. They were beautiful, and I've kept those sketches, some watercolored to show the amazing colors on the birds. Dead things are shunned in our culture, but I believe my Indian blood makes me a little less squeamish. I saw plenty of dead animals at my grandparents' farms. It wasn't pretty to see, but it was a fact of life.
Perhaps I'm thinking of this sad topic because yesterday I saw my friend's dying dog. Probably for the hast time. I sat on the floor and patted her, and she got up for me several times. Her expression was sad but resigned. Her eyes said, "I'm not what I once was, but I remember you, and our walks with your old dog (now dead), and this is just the way it is". She knows I love her, so no words were necessary, and no goodbyes. She's in my heart as long as it beats.
We had a great, wet spring, and it seems like there are plenty of critters to eat. So what was she doing? And now they've killed her. I know they couldn't do much else - she was in someone's back yard and had been wandering all around, but it's sad. The intersection of wildlife and urban is almost always tragic. The roadkill that is along every highway testifies to our maiming and mauling of these beautiful creatures. My Buddhist teacher often stops for roadkill animals and prays for them. She also takes them home and lets their bodies decompose. While she watches the changes in the carcass she meditates on change, dying and death.
On summer, on a retreat at her place, I sketched some of her dead birds, a sturgeon, a turtle, a snake and a mouse in their various stages of disintegration. They were beautiful, and I've kept those sketches, some watercolored to show the amazing colors on the birds. Dead things are shunned in our culture, but I believe my Indian blood makes me a little less squeamish. I saw plenty of dead animals at my grandparents' farms. It wasn't pretty to see, but it was a fact of life.
Perhaps I'm thinking of this sad topic because yesterday I saw my friend's dying dog. Probably for the hast time. I sat on the floor and patted her, and she got up for me several times. Her expression was sad but resigned. Her eyes said, "I'm not what I once was, but I remember you, and our walks with your old dog (now dead), and this is just the way it is". She knows I love her, so no words were necessary, and no goodbyes. She's in my heart as long as it beats.
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