Hello Goodbye Turn, Turn, Turn

I am making muffins, because food is love.

Hell of a year, and it's not done yet. Here is me making muffins. Because, yes, food is love. In this photo, we're about a year into my sister's diagnosis of the big C. NOTHING EVER can steal her sparkle. It comes from her eyes and her heart and it goes out boundless. As it always has. She's a Big Spirit and always has been.

Look at those eyes sparkling. My little minx.

My beautiful sister passed back to True Home September of 2023 and wow I miss her so very much, but still, I hold dear, so dear the love she gave and gave and gave. I hope she feels my love returning ALWAYS. 

During her sickness and physical challenges my sister was pretty fierce about owning her shit. I respect people who are comfortable with their imperfections (and mine). So she did go places without any wigs or head covering (though I bought her some lovely, soft caps for the cold days of winter, which she liked a lot). And it's good because we're all human and there isn't a one of us who doesn't have stuff to own up to though some of us sometimes pretend otherwise. Not buyin' that. A little color can add a whole lotta life.

We were born into the era that believed and taught us to believe that tobacco was good for you, HA! Check out those old commercials and the marketing campaigns, and the history of tobacco itself, which is truly interesting, going back to the Natives who taught that too much can steal your wind and encouraged reverence and moderation, as they did with all things, oh so wise were they. In fact, once when we were kids my father took us for a tour of a cigarette factory! Fascinating, and smelled sooo good. But probably not something we'd do with kids today....

However, the dollar often wins in our society (especially when we are not informed and wise with our buying choices) and we were unfortunately just as malleable then as peeps are now to marketing campaigns and propaganda about single use stuff and things we can't recycle. My family landed here in the 1600s and my Southern Dad's side were farmers who raised some of the best pure tobacco ever for many years, though he left and put himself through college and became a civil engineer, ending up with a career that took him and the family all over the world building, not tearing down or destroying or creating things that might hurt people. I've often wondered if our whole family is cursed with the karma of the tobacco years. Nope my ancestors didn't have slaves; they provided jobs for the people seeking freedom who came up from the deep South and treated them beautifully. I'm very proud of that within my Southern heritage. I appreciate that I was taught to value the differences of all cultures, the beauty and truth in each, rather than brought up to believe my own culture was the only "correct" one.

My sis and I were suckin' on my parents' cigarette butts and slurping their coffee leavings on Saturday mornings before we could even talk, when we were knee high to the side tables. My mother smoked through all three of her pregnancies and we turned out just fine, though probably already addicted.... I own my dumb stuff too, and when I said to my sis, "I'll be with you soon," she thought I was talking about visiting her during her last hospital visit, but that's not what I meant. She knows that now.... She said she'd never quit smoking and she didn't, and I hope it brought her pleasure during the trying times, because pleasure is one of the bennies of being here (ain't it great?! and if it's not, maybe we could rethink that?) and though pleasure usually has a price, sometimes it's a slow one, and sometimes it brings sooooo much good along the way, like most things. No judgies coming from me. Not ever. Unless someone's physically hurting others, in which case, I will intercede if at all possible, but otherwise, I say let's live and let live and love as big as we can along the way. And the thing is, so many people I know have died from the big C who never smoked a day in their lives, children, adolescents, adults, and elders. LOTS. So, I figure it's kind of a juggling act with none of us getting out of here except through that magical portal we call death. I think our spiritual agenda and will to live have a lot to do with our comings and goings on this planet, maybe even more than our dumb choices, which we can learn from as we grow....

My beautiful sister came to say goodbye, and like many who have terminal diseases whom we try our best to love all the way through, we did not talk about any possibility of death. So when she came, she knew, and I knew even though we never said any of the words out loud. She rang the doorbell sort of spontaneously, not calling or planning, she was just in the neighborhood (on the way back from another chemo appointment). She came in the front door and we hugged. A silent tight hug in which we did not cry. We held it for the longest time just knowing. Just filling each other up with each other.

She was tiny, so tiny I wanted to feed her massive amounts of macaroni, because cancer starves you and her 5' 4" frame was now down to a skeletal 89 lbs, so I took her hand and we walked slowly out to the back porch, which she had always loved. So many family barbecues out there on that patio that she was a major part of! Every year her birthday celebration around July 4th cause her birthday was on the 5th. So much fun. 

She sat, sunglasses firmly in place, in the chair I usually sit in and I sat next to her.

 

Yep the porch chair.

She spread her arms along its sides and sat, tiny in it, hands softly caressing the texture of the bamboo, a soft Mona Lisa smile on her face. And she looked out over the yard, as she'd done so many times before, drinking it in, every bit of green, every bit of dappled sunshine, every bit of history wafting into her and filling her up. I knew she was saying goodbye. I chattered about all kinds of things. I did not sob. I did not ask any questions. I did not grab her and hold onto her. Though I wanted to.

When she left to go home (this was the second to last time I saw her besides one hospital visit) she touched the kitchen chairs she'd sat in, she touched the doorways and the living room furniture she'd sat in so many times on holidays, her fingertips silently saying, I'm leaving my love and saying goodbye.

She went out the front door with another hug and promises of more visits. But the last visit was when I went to the hospital when the pneumonia got her yet again, and she rolled her little tiny self over the side of the bed to get out and announced, "This is harder than I thought it would be." "I know," I said, and turned to fluff the flowers we'd brought so she wouldn't see me cry.

But here's the thing: Wow, I'm so very grateful for ALL the LOVE she showered upon me throughout her life, and all the love she let me give her - it was a magnificent celebration between us for so many years and I'm pretty sure she wants me to live in those moments and let those sweet memories warm my heart.

So I make muffins for my Lovies. I remember the times we had together in those chairs and all the great conversations. And my heart stays warm and loving.

Conversation station XO

Dang, I'm still here.

I'm still here, so I must make it mean something. Isn't it funny how your body fights you when one of your beloveds goes down? Hair thins. Boils erupt. I won't even talk about the digestive system which refuses to digest anything but applesauce and toast. ACK!!

So I look back to see if I can survive this. And I find that I have managed to create beauty and to go on in hard times. Sometimes looking back can help us to be strong again.

Freesias

Freesias. I brought her some while she was sick. I put some in my house because they're her favorite. I will always honor her that way when they're in season. So fragrant I'm sure she'll smell them from her Heaven indeed.

We create.

I discover I can create beauty even in the midst of great sorrow. I planted this palm during the early time of her diagnosis and you should see it now! Looking back and remembering that I turned to Earth and growing things to feed my spirit when it was so low I remind myself I can do this and I will be able to scoot back into some kind of balance, even though sometimes I think I can't. 

And when those times happen, which I've shared with some special friends, here is the prayer/self-talk I say to myself:

I am surrounded by love.

I am loved.

I am loving.

I AM love.

Sometimes I say it several times to myself. It brings calm. And many times I say it about my Lovies who are in their Heavens. I have no doubt at all that it is the Truth, even when I can't always feel it.

And I count my blessings, which of course, include those still here on the planet with me, creating beautiful things, like my granddaughter soon to arrive. Whooooooopppppppieeeeee!

Yep, they've procreated! WOOT!!

My son and his beautiful wife are bringing into the world my beautiful granddaughter, with whom I am already completely in love. I can't wait to meet her and hold her and have fun with her. And watch them join the parenthood club. She is a verrrrry lucky girl indeed. And I am a happy grandmother in waiting.

Life brings a balance, we come, we go, we come, we go, and we LOVE. And love and love and love. And it's HARD sometimes, and sometimes it's so easy it's ridiculously wonderful. I'm all over that like a glove.

Fertility and abundance, yeah!

I am grateful for the cycles and the beeeeeautiful balance of life. I am looking back and grateful for the love of my sister and looking forward and grateful for the joys coming with the little one, and wise enough to firmly entrench myself in each and every moment, in all its glory. 

Aren't the moments just glorious? Aren't we lucky to experience them all?!

The Byrds with Turn Turn Turn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4ga_M5Zdn4

Namaste,

Jen