Sudden Death

Steamed Window in the Bath House

Yesterday was the 14th occurrence of being notified that my husband had died while I was out of state to bring my first grandchild into the world. There are years that this passes with just a ripple. Then there are other years that the pressure in my chest becomes unbearable, a weight I am dragging around all week like an antique millstone. My eyes brim with tears unanticipated at random moments. My sleep is light and in and out and leaves me tired in the morning. I feel prickly, like a surly porcupine. This year is one of those years of weight, like my feet are stuck in quicksand; when I start to lose momentarily the optimism that has carried me step after step, place to place, through thick and thin, buoyed by my natural curiosity, contentment and love of life. In the run up to it the words in my head were a tsunami, but mostly they remained unsaid – it is still difficult for people to deal with when it is old news, just like it is when it is new news. And so I need to write. I’ve written letters to friends old and new. I’ve journaled. And now it spills out into the ether as well, here. I’d give you a snack if I could 🙂

I appreciate being alive; relish it, actually. I look for joy, for laughter, for sarcastic humor events. Even though the muttered profanities beneath my breath about work, or kids, or other family members might belie that from an external perspective some days. Work has become like dogpaddling in a kelp bed with my hands bound lately. Maybe because I am counting down the timeline to officially ‘retire’ (12 months and 20 days, if you’re curious, haha) has it become this way. Or it is just that over the course of the last few years I’ve come to deeply understand that work is just this thing we do to pay to live, for many of us? Artists, writers and musicians, maybe not – and chefs. Comedians might be in there too:) And I am sure there are a bazillion folks out there who will disagree and state they love their work. If so, I am so very happy for you!!

Tiny orchid-looking flower by the dumpster

I recently stumbled upon the notion that because I have fallen, stood, fallen, stood, fallen, and stood again, that I am purposely living smaller, less buoyant, less ebullient, because there is less to lose should loss rear its well-known head yet again. This feeling too, is impermanent and will change again and again. My belief in good things, happy endings and true contentment have taken a serious knock on the noggin. But deep down, those beliefs are still alive. I nurture those beliefs through walks, through photographing bees and plants, water and people; through reading, writing and sharing the essence of who I am (unglamorous as that may be much of the time!)

This past weekend I trod the shores of Walden Pond, stood upon the hearth stone of Thoreau’s fireplace, and looked out upon the waters he bathed in and reported on in great detail over the seasonal cycles while he lived there in his tiny cabin. “Walden”, a book introduced to me via my baby brother, has been the underlying driver for many of my life choices for nearly 30 years now. My eyes watered again, ambling those paths. My heart was very full, brimming over with emotion. I sent photos to my brother, so he could share the joy with me. His excitement washed back to me and warmed me on the inside, to share a common theme between us. He once said “When I loaned you all of those books, I never knew you were going to go out and actually LIVE it.” From the farm in Virginia, to the little house in Sharp’s Chapel, TN, on to Sunflower Solace Farm and even at KarseCoteHowm in NC, I have tried to practice many of Thoreau’s principles. Of course, I’ve always had to work for a living, so do not have the free time that Thoreau had to walk, to observe, to record his observations. Maybe one day…

Steps to Walden Pond near Thoreau’s cabin site

Now I leave you with the glistening waters of Walden Pond to grace your afternoon on this long holiday weekend in the US. May your time be well spent, no matter where you are. Look around. Give thanks. Lend a hand to others if possible. And keep your heart tender and soft; hard heartedness can kill.

~SE, on the road southward