Sunday, June 16, 2024

Anniversaries - Moments Meant to Be

 

June 15, 2024


There are days to be commemorated. June 14 is one of them in my world. It marks, for me, the day my life turned in this direction to the here and the now - 43 years ago, We roll along in our lives never really knowing we are changing course. Is it changing course, or just really going in the direction we are meant to be in? Rarely do we know in a moment that yes, this is huge; this will send me in the right direction; exactly where I am meant to be.

When I was seven years old I had my first true epiphany. It was a moment of awakening, of pure consciousness. I have memories, or flashes of them, really, of moments prior to this seven year old awakening, but this was my first real conscious memory of being alive. I remember sitting at my desk in school; 2nd grade. At that moment as I sat, I remember the feeling of knowing. Of sitting there, feeling my legs dangling off the hard desk chair, hands clasped in front of me (I was such a good girl; a rule follower, especially back then). I knew without doubt that I was alive. It sounds crazy, perhaps. But it was as if the switch of life got turned on in my mind. I knew without a doubt that it was huge, I knew in every fiber of myself that at that moment I was truly alive, that I had a consciousness and it was awake. I knew the feel of the tights on my legs, the bend of my knees and the feel of the chair beneath my knees and under my bottom. I remember a deep knowing that I would always remember that moment of awakening, and I have. A lightbulb moment. I’ve thought of it so often throughout all the years since, and I imagine I have written about it, too. It was significant, though at the time I had no idea really what it all meant. There have been a lot of moments in time that have remained for me. The awful moment when my mother’s husband touched me the first time and I knew it was wrong. I remember a photo moment with Steve that first summer taken under a tree in my aunt’s front yard. I remember the feel of my favorite coral terry cloth one piece outfit, the warmth and hardness of his arm draped across my shoulders - our feet bare, the sun on our skin, love, youth and beauty on our faces. I remember the feeling of facing him on our wedding day, wiping a tear from his cheek and having absolutely no doubts. I remember the exact moment I realized I was pregnant; that hot intense joy and incredulity. And, I remember the moment, later on, when I knew I was losing our baby. I remember the moment I knew I had a choice to get up off the couch after I lost Steve and to move, or to remain on that couch and wither and die; to get lost in the mourning.

I had to step away for a while to compose myself again. I am so grateful for all the moments of joy and sorrow, yet reliving them sometimes can be overwhelming.

Memories and moments. They shape our lives whether we are conscious of them or not. I had no idea 43 years ago - the first time Steve and I were together - that it would shape my life as it has. Monumental. I wonder sometimes what life would have been life if I had not come to Florida, not met him, not ventured out as I did. For me, it is the Road Less Traveled. The paths were equally available, yet I took the one less traveled and it has indeed made all the difference. I was 18, learning how to navigate life, uncertain, unthinking, just doing, really. I remember that day in snapshots. The fan circulating the heavy air (no AC in that old cracker house, not for the next 15 years). I remember the gauzy curtains blowing gently, between what little air came in through the jalousie windows and the fan stirring them. The dim, but sunshiny room. His arm around me. The radio was playing Phil Collins In the Air Tonight, a song special to me even before that day in one of those beautiful prior imprinted memories which I did not know would impact my life as it did (a story for another day, but that song has been so vital in my life moments). I didn’t know how much my life would change at that moment; we never do until we look back. I was young, gorgeous, strong, healthy, and on an adventure. I was not in love that day, but I felt safe and valued. The love would come later; like a lightening bolt. Or not, maybe it was just gradual until I felt the trust come and I believed it was real. It was real. I still, despite all that transpired over the course of 21 years believe in that love. Because it ended makes it any less real years later. Regardless, it’s a beautiful day to remember with joy. I am so grateful to have it in my heart always.

I am grateful to have June 14 in my memory bank of moments which formed me. All of the moments of life bring us to where we are meant to be; we just are not always awake to know they matter. I’ve had a life full of blessings. Intermixed with the joys have been sorrows - incredible sorrows. Loss of grandparents throughout childhood, loss of friends, loss of a child and a husband. Loss of my mothers, both of them. Not getting stuck in those sadness’s is what truly matters. Recognizing we need the bad alongside the good; those are our lived experiences, and they help us become who we are meant to be; they help us learn and grow. I was fated to come to visit Florida, to meet Steve four days after I got here. To fall in love, to move here; to live our life together. I was fated to learn to live on my own, to grow into the me I am now, to have the experiences I have had since. As a child I did not have a perfect life, although it was pretty darn good. We were taught to be curious, to explore, to be inquisitive (to READ!), to blossom where ever we were. There was loss all along - there has to be. I have been on this planet nearly 62 years and I have lived through a lot of joy and sorrow. I have had love, heart ache, heartbreak, joys, fears, elation, beautiful, pride-filled moments, and I have been equally deflated, scared, frightened. All of that has led me to this moment of now. Mary Oliver asks “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” I am not done finding out, and we shall see what the future brings.

Aging with Grace.

 Ooo what a day to read this! I went to a party last night – the same party my friends and I have had for over 25 years. The same, yet different. Their kids are all grown now, and for the first time THEIR friends outnumbered us at the party we created so long ago. It was…humbling. I look at their youth and think, wow – that was us, once. But the most humbling part was my dearest friend in the world; the one who picked me up off the floor so many years ago when my husband left…and picked me up when she delivered the news that my mother had suddenly died…that friend; that true, grounded friend. Her husband, 25 years ago, was the life of the party. An annoying, boasting, vibrant very heavy drinker. Yet he was fun, too. I can still see him, drunk, but supple – laying down on the floor where his children slept on a blanket in my living room. He looked at my friend and he said, we made these little beings – aren’t they beautiful? He annoyed me, but he was like that. A few years ago he had a drink related stroke. He continues to drink, in “secret” and it’s impossible for him to stop – one needs a zest to do so, and all the imploring in the world can’t make someone do that. So he fades, becomes wizened, feeble, frail. He slurs, he wobbles – partially from the stroke, partially from the drink. But last night he broke my heart. This little shell of a man, once that vibrant soul – he wanted to dance with his wife in the middle of rollicking Irish jigs and reels. She said I’ll dance with you soon; I think you’ll fall. He wanted to dance, though, so in the middle of this line of dancers in their 20’s, early 30’s and us, aging (but not old yet) “grown-ups” he joined her. And she slow danced with him – he shuffled in place and leaned heavily on her. Her hips swayed and she put her head on his shoulder and the crowd was brought to tears. It’s aging in the worst way for him, and it broke my heart. Aging gracefully is in the heart, mind, and soul – and sometimes how you dance with your weak, wobbly, ill husband.


From a post I read from Elephant Journal" In fact, aging sucks.
There is no question about it. It f*cking sucks. I mean, who are we kidding? There is nothing even remotely romantic about having lines on one’s face that show the world every single experience you’ve ever had. And who wouldn’t want to travel the world, imbibe several cultures, meet amazing people, and have life-changing experiences, but still stay a perennial 27?
There is nothing joyous about watching your loved ones go from being dynamic humans to become shells of themselves…just because they got old. Even the strongest of them, the most forward-thinking and positive of them all, eventually get so weak and tired that they simply want to let go.
It can gut you when you see the change and havoc that aging brings on people, including our own selves."