This morning the sunrise was incredible. It's a sight to behold and even in retirement I am up way too early. That's okay, it is peaceful and there is no hustle or bustle or traffic or children and their parents to tend to first thing in the morning. Silence is golden, as they say, and I live it now. I embrace it. And as I seize the day, taking it for what it is, yes, missing, especially at this time of year, all those who I interacted with on a daily basis, I must accept that life is paced differently, slower, quieter, more subdued, but it is what I make of it. I must accept a lot of things. One such part of my life, our lives, is that as we make our way toward Christmas, it is not only the holiday we must find our way through with new traditions and ways to celebrate life, but these days signify so much more. They represent the final days Allison spent at home with us, a December to remember, and even in the devastation of a raging and relentless cancer, there was joy, here, that now lives in our hearts. There was laughter, lights, hope, strength, and love. There were visitors, endless at times, and special gatherings as Allie perched on her pillow in her room, or in a favorite chair. There were two sisters, laughing and telling secrets, laying together and watching Ellen and reality shows! There were games and coloring books and toys and almost daily presents in the mail! There were naps with her beloved Barkley, there was music, there were movies, there was a young woman with a a halo of light that helped us through some remarkably difficult days. Yet that glow brought peace and helped us turn to the only one who could take control, a loving and tender God, who took her on a morning that started much as today did, a very cold and bitter early morning, with the most amazing colors streaming through the sky. I mostly remember the pinks and oranges that filtered through her hospital room, and how appropriate, those being two of her three favorite colors, the other being turquoise. Yet, that day, unlike today, as soon as she took her final breath and left us for eternity, the skies turned gray and the cold settled in...today is not going to be like that. Today is a reminder that the good comes with the bad, that for now, it is beautiful, but soon, all can change. Just as those days in December brought the utmost beauty, they turned dark, and cold, until we could see again, hear again, remember without the intensity of such pain.
I remind myself daily that Allison is not in pain, only those of us left behind are still grappling with this thing called life. We don't know what to do or how to do it, we try, we take baby steps, we falter, we pick back up, and we do what we must. I know if she could say anything directly to us it would be to remember the wonderment of those last weeks, not the pain, the nights, the hospital visits, or the death...but to remember the laughter, the family gathered all the while each visit now becoming a precious memory, remember the food, the purpose, the reason for the season. She would encourage me to put the wreaths out that are still waiting in the basement, decorate the tree, play the music, do the shopping. And to her I would say, I am doing it, I am finding the smallest steps to be the biggest journey. The music is on this morning, a friend is coming for lunch, and another for a happy hour, one at a time, or a whole house full, I am living. Sometimes I don't want to, sometimes I just cannot even begin to breathe through this or comprehend such a loss, I have to touch her face on a photo just to get to the next minute, but I do what I must.
The sun has risen and I am recalling in my soul the beauty of those last weeks, her death is not the painful part, she is in the most serene and wondrous places of all, it's the living without her that is the complex part. Yet the gifts she left are bigger and better than any under the tree. I can feel the love of those weeks, the friends and family who made time to come by, visit, not even question if they should or should not, they just did. Those moments help me find my way, knowing that love prevails and carries us when there is nothing else to do.
Psalm 30 says that weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. Right now I am thankful for this morning and what it brings.
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