Balance

Today is the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.  I remember listening to Brian Williams break into the AM news radio broadcast on my drive to work with an update that "something" had happened in New York.  By the time I made it into the offices, everyone was gathered around a television, watching. Then the second plane hit and nothing's been the same ever since. That day marked the second time I'd ever seen my firefighter husband cry, the first being when my eldest son was born.

We've all experienced sad and traumatic events and it's hard to not let the emotions attached overwhelm the rest of our existence. How can you go on when you think you might never smile again, that the world is a sad place populated with evil, uncaring and unfair people or things? Personally I try to utilize the forget but try to forgive adage but I think the best mechanism uses balance to keep us from total meltdown.

My mother died on Easter morning so no matter when Easter falls, and because the date is a moving target, I get a double whammy of sad--both on the actual date of her death and then on Easter morning. I remember the phone call, the searing pain of hearing the news and the angst of having to gather myself so I could make plane reservations and also arrangements for her.  After the funeral, I returned home and decided that Easter wasn't for me anymore.  Nope. Maybe I'd just sit in the bathtub with a bottle of wine all day and cry once that horrible anniversary rolled around.

But then, my son was born and aside from the religious implications of the day, I thought why should he miss out on Easter egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, baskets and all the other trappings? Because his mother was sad about something he didn't understand yet? So, I decided that instead of propagating my very sad but relevant memories, I would try to make some new, happier imprints to balance things. Not that I was giving up on my blanket of misery, but I'd drape myself in it instead of wearing it as swaddling. Plus, I knew my mother wouldn't want me to carry on being so upset about it. Sad, yes, but upset and emotional--no. She'd worry about the toll that coping method would take.

So, I'm using the same tactic to deal with the 9/11 anniversary. It's the birthday of two dear friends, so even though I'm never going to forget the terror and sadness of the attacks, I'm going to remember to celebrate the good things this day also brings.

Swimming Upstream

I know.  I know.  This time of the year is never good for me, no matter how hard I try.   A self-imposed lecture on the myriad number of blessings I have (good health, great family, excellent friends, roof over my head, food to eat, etc.) never seems to make an impact except for making me feel guilty for having them in the first place.  

Many people suffer from the winter blues and goodness knows that here in the great frozen Midwest, I'd be excused if such were the case with me, but it's not.  My mother's birthday is the week before Christmas and since my last post revealed that she's no longer with me, you'll understand that it's the time of year that I miss her most.  My best friend, also deceased, would have celebrated her forty-seventh birthday this Christmas Eve.   So, I'll be in a dire mood for the next few weeks, working hard to lift myself from the doldrums and not get mired in misery.

When I was young (er) I wrote  dreadful poetry or stories as an outlet for my angst and I guess some old habits die hard.   Hard enough, anyway because I laid out an entirely new story, plot, GMC and suitably horrible ending for hero and heroine, all in the space of a few hours.  All this on the strength of transferring my black mood from my mind onto paper.  I tried to think of any notable authors who writes sorrowful tales where no one is ever really happy and the endings are sad.   Then I realized that there are plenty of talented and noteworthy authors who write stories exactly like that , but the work isn't considered romance. 

 Like the Scarlet Letter.  That's a pretty sad story wrapped around an awful conclusion and I'm sure I could come up with many others but for now, I'll ponder this particular work from Nathaniel Hawthorne.   Wikipedia says that The Scarlet Letter was considered Hawthorne's magnum opus.  So perhaps instead of trying to lift my black mood, I should mine it for literary achievement since I seem to be lacking the cheerfulness needed to write a proper romance.  

In Remembrance

Exactly a year ago today, my dearest friend lost her battle with cancer.  Nathalla left behind a husband, an eight year old daughter, her mother, sister, neices, nephews, uncles, aunts and a host of friends and colleagues who feel her absence keenly even now.

I'm sure that everyone who knew her misses her and grieved in their own unique way, but for me the absence surrounds me and sneaks up on me--quietly, stealthily and in an enveloping manner.  We were friends for more than half of my life and although I think I'm finally through the denial stage of the grief, I'm still carrying around the anger.  I sneered at the girl outside the grocery store asking for donations for breast cancer research today and she should be glad I didn't take a swing at her.  There are plenty of people in the world today who are mean, nasty people and they make you wish that an anvil like the ones in the old cartoons would drop out of the sky and conk them on the head.  But those people live to be 97 years old and nothing bad ever happens to them.  My dear sweet friend, who was a gentle spirit met her end in a painful and wretched manner that she certainly didn't deserve.  Her daughter certainly doesn't deserve to have to hear about her mother rather than experiencing her love and affection.

I bought a bracelet this weekend that I knew was a style that she would like and I'm going to send it to my friend's daughter.  Her father will probably need to take the needle-nose pliers to it until she's older, but I want her to have it.  I'm also enclosing a copy of The Little Prince for her, because it gives me comfort when I'm sad and missing her mother and I want to share that with her.

I know that life's not fair, but sometimes it's really unfair.