My Angel's Whispers... a Conversation

April 6 ~ Thank you

I realized yesterday that April 5 and May 1 are the two most important days in my life.  Each year I move into spring with longing, anticipation,  joy, and  that whispered shadow that I have embraced as part of my forever.

When we experience something incredible, be it incredibly sad or incredibly wonderful, it is felt and held in every cell.  Days come and go, months, years, even decades  but the memory is held, passed to each new cell by the worn ones, becoming a part of who we are. 

I don't consciously dread or avoid Shannon's birthday and Heaven day.  I embrace them and claim them whole heartedly as my month to feel as deeply as I can.  To love and mourn and miss and celebrate and remember.  Some days I feel numb.  Some days I want to scream.  Some days I want to open the flood gates and release the tears that stay tucked away in deference to a life that wants my undivided attention.  Some days I just "leak" a little and smile and remember small hands and belly laughs and good night smooches and philosophical debates and iced tea in a hammock that miraculously held us both. 

If you haven't been there, you can't really understand.  That's okay.   You might believe that "time heals all wounds" or that after fourteen years "it's time to move on".  Neither is true.  We live with what we cannot change and hopefully summon enough courage and grace to live a life that is a testament to love's power to lift us .  But we live with a wound that truly never heals.   I found a quote once, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer,  "If we are strong enough to be weak enough, we are given a wound that never heals. It’s the gift that keeps the heart open."  It is true and although some days I fail miserably, most days, my heart is open and Shannon is there.

Yesterday, you remembered with me.   Some of you grew up with Shannon.  Some of you grew up with me.  Some of you never knew either of us before but have found it in your hearts to love us both.  All of you celebrated Shannon's life with me yesterday and I don't have words to adequately express my appreciation.

The new photos are in the garden.  My neighbors and their children sat with us.  There were bunny cupcakes and lemonade, bubbles and balloons.  The wind was gentle and the sun was warm and our conversations danced between protecting two year olds from bridge crossings, sending notes to Heaven by balloon, buttercups under the chin, dark beer vs. light and the precious gift of sleeping babies. 

Of course we missed those not visibly present but there was an undeniable knowing that we were in the presence of Angels.

Lori had lunch with me at Sammy T's, Shannon's favorite lunch spot... and one of the few favorite places that has stood the test of time... Sammy's and Jabberwocky !  So grateful.

So, we move into another day, together.  There is comfort in knowing that we stay connected and as we share our joys and our sadness, one multiplied and the other lessened by that sharing, we are moving together.

Thank you ... for accepting me where I am, understanding without explanation and for always holding on to the memories that we share.

Heaven Days

 

How often do we slow down long enough to appreciate our breath? That simple act of bringing air in and letting air out that keeps us alive... for me, the answer is rarely. It's that way with so many of the moments in life that really matter.

My neighbor fell and broke her hip. She has two four legged children that I get to spend time with until she gets home. There is a cat, Norton, who adopted another neighbor years ago... life requires movement but Norton remains. A young wife is making plans with her two children to celebrate her husband's birthday, his first in Heaven. They are in my thoughts as I walk across my street at five a.m.

At five a.m., the pavement is warm. The air is gentle. It's easier to smell the last of the lilacs and the hint of a shower in the dark. Bird's are starting to wake and stretch and sing. I know how blessed I am.

This morning I slowed just a little as I crossed the street. I pulled the hood up on my red coat... Lizza's red coat when the rain started. I touched the thumb ring that I bought when Shannon and I were visiting the Grand Canyon. I listened, as the rain splashed against the leaves of the elm/Angel Tree. And despite all that ... I felt my heart contract.

Today is Shannon's 14th Heaven Day. I don't know how to say what I feel. I don't want to invite pity or sadness, or concern. I simply want to acknowledge that life is strange and wonderful and each of us does the best we know how. In our own time, in our own way.

April 5 and May 1 are the two most important days of my life. They define me as a woman, a mother and a human being with faults and flaws and regrets and hopes and dreams and joys and sorrows. I can never live long enough to adequately deserve my Shannon. She was and will always be as vital to my life as breath. She allowed me to be SuperWoman. She saw me, flaws and all and loved me without question, despite myself. She taught me about courage and magic and vision and patience and a love bigger than I could ever have imagined.

Today is Shannon's Heaven Day. We will all have one. Hopefully we will be remembered and held safely in the hearts of those we love and those who have loved us. As shattered as hearts can be, they mend. They are never the same, we wouldn't want that... but they pull together and perhaps the cracks allow more love in... more love out... never hardened or bitter but forever broken, forever open.

We learn to live beyond death. We allow promise to wake us to each new day and we put on our best guess at normal and give life a chance. We allow for the moments of peace knowing that they will always be accompanied by longing and we are grateful.

Love someone without hesitation today. Say it. Wrap your arms around them and hold on a few seconds longer than you did yesterday.... and no obligatory pats on the back ! Shannon hated that ! Smile at someone who is making you crazy. Laugh if you want. Cry if you want. Just be in whatever moment you find yourself in. Really BE.

Thank you for remembering with me. Thank you for allowing me to be fragile. Thank you for understanding without explanation. Thank you for loving Shannon, here and hereafter. Thank you for loving each other even when it would be easier not to.

Today I'm hoping that this is true, "If the only prayer you ever say is 'thank you'... it will be enough."

Thank you...

April 5 ~ My most precious gift

                 April 5, 1998

Thank you for 'me'.

Thank you for "C of the D"

Thank you for a pleasant day.

Thank you for beautiful weather.

Thank you for limitless possibilities."

S.A.B.

 

 

To be honest... I want more than almost anything to be planning a 37th birthday party.  I would like to be frantically cleaning house, chasing down favorite recipes, picking up a cake from Paul's, reassuring myself that one piece of cake won't hurt any of  us, arranging flowers, planting pansies, and wrapping gifts.  I want to pick up the phone and hear Shannon's voice trying to convince me that she doesn't want any fuss.  I want life to be the way I had planned.  The way that was comfortable and happy and gentle.  I want to wrap my arms around my 37 year old daughter and thank her for being the most precious gift I have ever received.

We can't always have what we want most.

BUT... we find ways to allow love to lift us....carry us, perhaps, and we watch for signs of those limitless possibilities. 

Today I will hold Shannon as close as I can. I will remember that the afternoon sky is full of stars, even if I can't see them.   I will appreciate each invisible breath.  I will float on the unseen fragrance of  lilacs blooming in Shannon's garden and smile at the tree frog's song drifting from some hidden perch and be reminded that although I can't see her with my eyes, my heart won't doubt that she is with me.

My wish is that on this day, we can each extend a kindness... to a friend, a stranger or to ourselves.  A moment of gentleness extended and embraced and sent as a gift to Shannon. 

 We will probably have cake, traditions are good, we will probably send notes to Heaven and we will wrap our hearts and our arms around each other.... so very grateful for every precious moment.

 

Happy Birthday my sweet Angel.  You taught me more about love and life and courage and gratitude in your short life than I could have ever hoped to learn alone....and I'm still learning !

Thank you for filling my life.  Thank you for choosing me to be your Mom. Thank you for trusting me enough to follow your own path.  Thank you for magical moments and long talks and longer hugs.  Thank you for always being there....even now.

I will probably cry some today... I miss you, but I love you more so try not to fret. 

I will watch for signs.  I will light the tree and I will thank God with all my heart for you !

I love you my Shannon, Happy Birthday.

March 1

What makes you happy? A smile on the face of someone you love? Beautiful music? A sunset?  The first flowers of spring?  Answered prayers?  Well worn 'Stuffies'?  A good book?   Cheese pizza?

Shannon left me a wonderful legacy of gratitude.  She noticed the little things and took the time to make note of those things each day.

"Thank you for oranges.  Thank you for night air.  Thank you for gossipy women.  Thank you for seafood salad.  Thank you for unburnt cookies.  Thank you for birds that take cat naps in the crepe myrtle."

Some days it's hard to get beyond the aggravations.  The demands of our jobs.  The endless housework.  Unnecessary rudeness.  Apathy.  Politics.  Cruelty.  It's easy to be overwhelmed and blind to the soft spoken sweetness of each and every day.

I'm starting a new project.  I've been playing with how to proceed for sometime and the more I ponder the more excited I become.  Winter's melancholy has gone on long enough and I'm ready to take a photo walk  through Shannon's gratitude journal.  There is something about the soft morning light through the bedroom window that touches me, allows me to see simple things in a special way.  So I started there...

Thank you for books that speak to the heart

Thank you for Winnie the Pooh

Thank you for Jelly Beans

Thank you for hand hewn dinosaurs

Thank you for crystal light

Thank you for memories

Thank you for soft green burlap

 

As I play with the idea of a series of still life moments, full of wonderful "things" that make our hearts sing, I realize how many times someone, especially on Facebook, will mention one of their gratitude moments and I resonate with them.  I smile because they smile. 

Before I embark on this new adventure....April 5, Shannon's 37th birthday, I invite you to share with me what makes you smile.  I know that it's different for each of us but there are so many things that touch us all and I would like to include those in my "Stilled Life" moments.

We'll see where this leads, together.        Anglnan@aol.com

February 5

Again I'm suffering from writer's block.  The delete button on the computer has never gotten such a work out.  It's not from lack of inspiration, that is everywhere.  Perhaps  because language is so restricting and unsatisfying.

  I want you to be with me when I drive through McDonald's before sunrise and get teary when the warm air, fragrant with brewing coffee and toasting English muffins wafts across my face.

  I want you to be there when "Touch" is over so we can talk about the " invisible red thread that connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break." (Chinese Proverb).

  I want you to know, without being told, how necessary moments of despair are, and how each gives me a deeper appreciation for the moments of joy. 

 I want to touch your hand and  see you smile and know without needing words that we are still sharing, remembering, connecting.   I say that I want what I know that I already have and when I'm quiet and sit in the lingering light, the stillness reassures me that everything is exactly as it is supposed to be, and I am grateful.

I read yesterday...

An oak reaches for the light

Anchored in the dark.

 

January 17 The Beginning

Sometimes when we feel lost, even in the most familiar places, we need to begin again at the beginning.  Days pass, memories fade or become emblazoned and life simply flows, minute by minute.  We change... or not.  But if we can be still long enough to take a second look at where the journey started anew, we might find that it's just a matter of refocusing to find clarity.  So that's what I decided to do with my adventure in blogging.... revisit the beginning, July 2008.

 

July 2008

July 31, 2008

It never ceases to amaze me that we are all so intricately connected even though we don't always have the opportunity to see it.

Last week I saw a rerun of ER. Alan Alda recited a poem and one line touched my heart so deeply that I embarked on a search to find the poem. I thought that they said it was by William Blake but the only key words I could remember were lake and heron and that proved fruitless.

Finally I decided to "google"... William Blake poem on ER... and would you believe that someone else was doing the same search two years ago and there it was, on a small conversation board. I'm sharing it today because I don't want to lose it again and perhaps there is someone else out there making peace with a life that is both precious and unpredictable.

The Peace of Wild Things
— Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

What touched my heart and what I wanted to impress on each of us is ..."the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief."

How much happier we will be when we release our white knuckled grip on the future fears that strangle the life out of this moment. When grief happens, we find the strength... unless we have exhausted today with anticipation of what might be.

Just for today, I will not be afraid. Just for today I will acknowledge how grateful I am for the little things that make my heart light. Just for today I will love the way I am loved and release all regrets and worries and the incessant day planner in my head.

Tomorrow we will start again... together.

 Every new beginning...

July 28, 2008

When life begins to change too quickly, when memories sustain you but life calls, imploring you to rediscover passion and joy, the only course of action seems to be to stand perfectly still. To allow the breeze of change to wash over and through you and just breathe.

I have grieved a seemingly endless grief. Most of the time it has been in silence, in the quiet hours of night, on the way to work, on the porch, in a crowd... at the grocery store facing Chef Boy R Dee.

I'm not completely sure how to move back into the flow of a life that doesn't have Shannon in it in the same familiar ways. I've been moving. For ten years I've done what I thought I should. I've talked as if I knew how to live with sorrow. I haven't given up on me or Shannon or life and I've searched to complete exhaustion for the hidden meaning in losing my only child so soon.

I'm hoping we can discover some of those answers together... and even if we only find that we are here to merely hold on to one another... that's okay too.

In the movie "Medicine Man", the last line is, "Life down here is very strange... but so very precious."

It is so very true.

Funny how we find

When we stop our frantic search

All we ever need

January 15, 2012

I've been told more times than I care to count that I think too much.   Shannon told me, after reading one of my 'better' attempts at poetry, that everything I wrote was depressing.  Perspective.  I thought I was deep.  Profound perhaps, insightful.  My dear sweet critic, whose favorite author was Stephen King, thought I needed to 'lighten up'.  Quite a commentary on perceptions.

Since my first post to this blog in August of 2008, I have been on a roller coaster 'write'.  I think they call it 'finding your writer's voice'.  My best ideas seem to surface in the middle of the night or in the bath tub and I'm either too tired or too wet to capture them.

I do remember waking in the night last night with my gratitude list scrolling across my mind's eye... Thank you for the feel of crisp white Shabby Chic sheets, thank you for the whisper of Chanel 5 and Old Spice, thank you for the lingering fragrance of hot buttered wheat toast, thank you for the familiar and ordinary moments in my life.  I would have been happy just to be grateful for a good night's sleep.

Last weekend I attended a workshop, "Manifesting your dreams in 2012".  Everyone hoping for something, a new job, a new love, a new car, a new outlook, a clean bill of health, a bigger house.  I asked, "Is it against some universal law... if I have everything...to manifest for someone else?"  And of course the answer was "YES".  We each have a path.  We each have lessons.  We can offer love and hope and prayer and support through those difficult times, but apparently we thwart another's progress if we interfere uninvited.  So... I tried during the course of the day, to discover what it is I want to "manifest" in this life.

A fellow searcher asked me what I would do if money wasn't an issue.  I said that I would write, but I questioned whether or not I had anything to say that anyone would be interested in reading.  His advice ?  "Write!  Even if you think it's all been said before, it hasn't been said by you."

If I write what is in my heart it may be perceived as 'depressing'.  Shannon knew me better than anyone and that was often her perception even though she knew I wasn't depressed.  If I try to 'lighten up', as I did writing about my job... if feels contrived and unsatisfying. 

 You know that line in the song The Story, " these stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to"(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJ4I4tLQI1k), well that's the way I feel.  I'm not sure that I have anything worth sharing but my stories must mean something and that has to include you, the someone to tell them to. 

Most of our lives are intertwined.  We eat, sleep, laugh, cry, work, get angry, worry, love, inquire, discuss, remember and dream.  Why is it then, that so often we feel that we are making this trip alone?  That no one knows how we feel or could be this stupid, or afraid, or forgetful or misunderstood.  It is in being as open and honest as I know how that I find you and we can laugh or cry together, either way, we have someone to hold on to.  Someone who is as fragile as a butterfly's wing and as strong as a towering oak.  Someone like me only different.

Thirty eight years ago, I was given a gift beyond compare.  Fourteen years ago, I received another.  I'm not sure why I was so blessed but in the days and weeks and months ahead, I will revisit the moments along the way that broke me open and allowed me time to put the pieces back together.  I hope there will be clarity and meaning in the discovery....maybe for each of us.

Since Shannon returned to Heaven, I have been Humpty Dumpty trying desperately to put those damn pieces back together again.  They don't always fit and I don't look the same but to lay around in a puddle of broken pieces and egg yolk is unacceptable.

I really like Thomas Edison's encouragement...  "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. "

To know the ending

Might keep me from beginning

How sad would that be?

 

January 12

Facebook fascinates me.  I love being able to catch up with old friends.  See photos of the moments that make them smile.  I love the shared philosophy and viewpoints even if I don't agree... I respect them and applaud our freedom to express.   I don't quite get the endless complaining... or name calling or disrespectful comments ... but without a safe place to vent, it's hard to tell what might happen to those otherwise gentle souls.

Some days I really need to hear exactly what someone has shared.  Today was that kind of day.

A dear friend shared this thought today...  "I'm not hot or gorgeous, I don't have an amazing figure or a flat stomach. I'm far from being considered a model but I'm ME. I eat food, I have curves, I love my Pj's, and I go without make-up lots of times. I'm random and crazy, I don't pretend to be someone I'm not. I am who I am, you can love me or not. I won't change!! And if I love you, I do it with all my heart!! I make no apologies for the way I am. Ladies put this on your status if you're proud of who you are!"

So fitting, given that yesterday I decided to photograph myself in my work space.  I was splicing in the rain, in a tent, in a field.  I was dressed in really heavy duty coveralls, a fluuuffy vest and my work coat, circa 2007, with torn pockets and a faded blue hood.  In my tent I had a bright blue tarp on the ground, a short legged table, a shorter box to sit on, a tiny heater and of course, my Chic Fil A un sweet iced tea. Oh and my Panda hat and really bad safety glasses.  I had music on my smart little phone and because I was alone all day, it never occurred to me how I looked until a pick up slowed and the driver stared a little too long, to watch as I was preparing to clean up for the day.

That's when I decided to capture the moment.  I received a text from one of my favorite nieces.  They are all so wonderful and have made such wise. professional, career choices and it occurred to me that they have never seen me in my work environment.  They were so supportive when I was trying to follow my dreams with photography and art and continued that support when I opted to return to Verizon. These savvy young women were instrumental in convincing me to dip a toe into the technology of the day and I have to admit that I do love the sound of the "magic wand" alerting me to an incoming text ... Especially as a diversion from the cold rain beating on my tent and the steady stream of winter water flowing past my pink boots !

 Like my pink boots and panda bear hat, life is so much gentler when we can giggle at ourselves.

Cold drippy work days

Yellow tents and bucket trucks

Who could ask for more?

January 7

My 57th birthday was the day after Christmas.  My Mom had a brunch and everyone was there except for Jules and he had to work.  Deciding that I wanted to make Gavin a "Family Album" for his birthday was easy.  Convincing each member of my family to pose for photos, not so much.

Then again, an empty picture frame, held in front of your face magically dispels inhibitions and provides the vehicle for fun.

This is Gavin and his "G-Gia". 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course it wouldn't be fair to ask my family to do something that I wouldn't do myself, so I also included some self portraits.

It may seem ridiculous at first glance but life and time demand so much and before we know it we're almost sixty and memory starts to fade.  This may not be the way I want to be remembered at "almost sixty"... but then again, I sort of get the feeling that there are Angels giggling at my long overdue dip in a little "happy".

All too often, mostly when I'm alone, I allow myself to wear "sad" with too much comfort.  During the holidays, I miss Shannon more than I have words for... even after almost fourteen years. 

So this year, on this birthday, I allowed myself to feel "happy".  Little ones have magical powers.  They fill you up without even trying.

In years to come we'll laugh at our silliness.  But I am sure that this family album will always be one of our favorites !

(Aren't they the best sports ever?)

Counting my blessings

Has never been easier

Frame by golden frame !

January 6

I'm not totally convinced that change is possible.  This is day six of a brand new year. "This book is yet unwritten".  I've gained two pounds, stared with amazement this morning at the "jiggly bits" that have formed around my middle and upper thighs and I've only logged one mile on the treadmill.  I have not prepared one meal at home this week unless Biscotti and coffee count and I missed three days in my diary/blog.  I missed the seven o'clock webinar last night, too tired to take off my heavy duty coveralls and climb the stairs.

On the other hand... I have made the bed every morning.  The Christmas tree is in the backyard next to the bird feeder and although the ornaments and lights are not back in the attic, they are in boxes lining the hall.  I have worked a very cold week.  Thank you notes are written and mailed.  Snapfish family album is created and I DID receive the discount even though it took hours to unravel the on line restrictions to the coupon !

I have made a real effort to linger for a few minutes each morning to really feel the warmth and comfort of home, to appreciate the subtle changes in Shannon's room that remind me that moving forward doesn't mean never looking back. 

I realized that each morning's silent conversation usually begins with "Dear Father please hear my prayer" as if God might not listen.

Expectations.  We all have them even when we plan not to.  Disappointments inevitably follow.  Doing the same thing over and over expecting different results is the definition of insanity, are any of us sane?  That's where hope comes tapping softly. 

I hope that today I will make better, healthier food choices.  I hope I will appreciate more than I take for granted.  I hope I will not forget to turn the water off when brushing my teeth.  I hope I will succeed in lowering my cholesterol.  That's really all we can do in this new year.  We start out with resolve and intent and watch for success on the horizon.  We celebrate our subtle changes and trust that when it really matters, we always come through.

Purple Pansies gaze

Across a frozen expanse

Envisioning spring

January 2 Pajamas and Elves

I have some very old pajamas. They are waffle weave, pale yellow with lots of once bright green frogs all over them. Some of the frogs have their arms wide open in anticipation of hugs, some are dancing, some are simply smiling, some are even wearing crowns... the frog prince or princess perhaps? Anyway, they are really well loved pajamas, the kind that Shannon referred to as "comfortable as a second skin". Making the decision to stay in those pajamas while I had my morning coffee with Jules, un decorate the Christmas tree , rearrange furniture and launder curtains was risky. There is always the possibility that someone will come to the door and catch you being you but it was a risk I was willing to take in the interest of comfort .... until the door bell rang.

There standing on our front porch were the "Cookie Elves". My first instinct was to hide and pretend we weren't home...but with no curtains on the windows, I knew that I had been seen. I hadn't brushed my teeth, I hadn't combed my bed hair, I was wearing no foundation garments beneath my well worn frog pajamas and my house looked like a Christmas tornado had just blown through, but these were our favorite elves and they came bearing cookies for goodness sake.

I opened the door and apologized but they didn't see my mess. They smiled that wonderful way elves smile, gave us our cookies and laughed with us about our mutual menageries and the problems that come with multiple critter households. We talked about returning to work and how cold the weather was going to turn, the bag of squirrel food that was scattered across the porch and my brightly colored Santa ribbon.

When they waved goodbye as they headed down the walk, and I closed the door behind me, I realized that I had forgotten how I looked. I had forgotten the frogs, the fir needles, the bare windows and boxes of ornaments. I had relaxed into a moment with friends that far surpassed superficial. These friends love me for me. They don't care how I look, how my house looks or if I'm wearing raggedy jams at noon.

The cookies are delicious, by the way, and we have eaten more in a day than we should have, but each tasty morsel reminds me of what really matters....we do, to each other. What a gift !

Raspberry thumb prints

Second day of a new year

Cookie Elves with hugs !

(Suspend all haiku expectations please, this is a work in progress : )