Life & Death

My cousin is dead. There’s not much more to say about that. He died almost three weeks ago. Technically he is an in-law. He was married to my cousin. He has been part of our lives since we were teenagers. That’s a long time.

My cousins are like my siblings. The six of us grew up together and we have a tight bond. Losing David was a shock. He is the first of our generation to die. As you can imagine, there is a huge hole in his absence, though I’m not sure it’s fully realized yet. But I don’t want to talk about his death. I want to share with you his life.

In many ways David was larger than life. Everything he did he did to the fullest. He loved his wife and cared for her as if she were a princess. His sons were his whole life. He did not hold back on correcting them if they were going astray, but he also showed them great love through his actions.

And if his sons were his world, his grandchildren were his universe. What he would not do for them! His eyes would sparkle just talking about them. He would grin ear to ear when they came over for a visit. He took them with him wherever he went. He could not get enough of them.

Beyond his immediate family he cared deeply for his extended family. He took care of his mother-in-law. He helped his father-in-law with yard work and other chores that are now a challenge for my uncle. He adored my mother and my sister; always having a kind word for my mother when they spoke on the phone. My sister was his kid sister. Their friendship was filled with teasing and jokes that only siblings are allowed to exchange.

As I shared with friends, his life was defined by passion. If he loved you, he loved you fully. David showed us what it meant to live. And now he is gone. It hurts.

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.

Manna From A Kitchen Drawer

I have two cats. We feed them dry cat food. In fact, we have been feeding them a prescription food for about three years due to Kiwi’s bout with bladder stones. We buy the food in bulk and then store it in a large Rubbermaid^® bin to preserve freshness. The container is kept in a drawer in our kitchen. Yes, they know the drawer and will sometimes sit in front of it “asking” to be fed.

Recently, when I was feeding them I was struck by the fact that they eat the exact same food all the time. The same food. Every day. It reminded me of the Old Testament story in Exodus 16 where God fed the Israelites manna from heaven.

I wonder what my kitties think. Is it manna?

 

Or at least a miracle found in a kitchen drawer.

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.

#51

I celebrated my birthday this week. My husband took me on a three night stay at our favorite B&B in northern Vermont. We spent three days taking moderate-to-easy hikes. It was three days of fresh air, sunshine, and a bit of exercise. It was just what I wanted.

Every year my husband asks, “So, do you feel older?” Every year I have said “no,” but this year I said “yes.” It’s not that I feel ancient or sick. Instead, I look at my face and I see how I’ve aged. My eyes show the years with small crow’s feet and dark circles. My hands do not look young, though they are not knotted with arthritis yet. It takes me longer to “get going” in the morning, but keeping with a routine helps. I would not say that I feel old, but I am definitely aware that I am now older.

Last year I celebrated turning 50 with two parties and a dinner. It was a joyous week with friends and relatives. The past 12 months have seen a lot of changes; both good and sad. As you know, I lost my friend Linda. I miss her terribly. I am often reminded of her by a sight or something on the radio. While her death was tragic, I have so many fond memories that make me smile that I would not trade a single minute with her.

My job at work has expanded and I am now working full time. I genuinely love my job. I like getting up and going to work in the morning. I am involved in many projects and new initiatives. The benefits are great, and I am able to take vacations to disconnect and recharge without guilt. I am participating in a leadership program over this next year. It will be a year of personal study and professional growth.

When I look back on the last year there have been a lot of changes. And while I’m not sure what 51 is supposed to feel like I am not disappointed.

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me I can be found on Twitter @relucsurvivor.

Reese the Inn Cat

 

 

Reese the Inn Cat

Is there to greet

All of the guests

Old friends to meet

 

Her purr is loud

And if you are new

She'll bump your leg

And give you a "mew"

 

She'll come to your room

to wander around

And stay if you let her

Her graciousness abounds

 

She tries to escape

to the kitchen or yard

But bringing her back

Isn't that hard

 

She's Queen of the Inn

And wants you to know

She'll miss your company

When you have to go

 

She's a cat full of love

As her purrs will attest

At Rabbit Hill Inn

She's simply the best

Survivor's Guilt

The notion of survivor’s guilt has been presented to me several times over the past couple of weeks, which makes me think I should address it. By definition, survivor’s guilt is “feelings of guilt for having survived a catastrophe in which others died.” [Dictionary.com]

The most recent challenge came from a dear, close friend who asked, “Have you ever questioned God as to why you survived and Linda didn’t?” The answer to that question is quite frankly, no. It has never occurred to me to ask God “why.” Rather, I ask “to what purpose?” I believe that everything has a reason; the Book of Ecclesiastes speaks to that very philosophy. For what reason was I spared?

Even from the very beginning I did not ask, “Why me?” I felt on overwhelming calm, and from that moment I knew I was alright. Each step of the way, every twist along this road has kept me asking, “What do you want from me God?” Along the way my heart has said “yes” and my life has been forever changed.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s not about me.

I miss you every day, my friend.

Kitties Get Cancer, Too

This is Miss Maggie (aka Princess Margaret or Margaret Penelope Underfoot). She lived with my mother.

Maggie was 13 years old when she went over the Rainbow Bridge. I was fortunate enough to say “good-bye” to her the morning before.

You see, Maggie was my cat, too. She would always know when I was coming to visit my mother. She would stand in front of the door to the spare bedroom, asking my mother to open it up. My mother tells me that at other times she would ask to have the room opened, as if to say “If you open it, she will come.”

Maggie was a shy kitty, but she let me hold her. Sometimes she’d sit on my lap. Often, she would sleep with me.

My last visit with my Mom I knew would be my last visit with Maggie. She had developed tumors, stopped eating, and was losing weight. As I was leaving Maggie followed me to the garage door to say “good-bye.” My mother held her while I gave her scritches and kisses. She reached out her paw and took my hand, holding it close to her frail body.

I don’t know that Maggie’s tumors were cancerous. According to WebMD, cancer is not as common in cats* as it is in dogs. Probably half the rate. Cats have a tendency to mask illnesses, so it is harder to detect. This often leads to later diagnoses.

It doesn’t really matter the cause of the tumors. What is important was the love she gave while she was with us. There is a hole in our lives, but we are better for having lived with her. Rest in peace, Miss Maggie. You will be missed.

*Changes in the behavior of your animal companion should be checked out by your veterinarian to rule out any medical issues.

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.

Why Throw Out the Baby's Breath . . .

Why throw out the baby’s breath just because the roses have died? As I gathered up the roses to remove them from the vase and toss them in the garbage I noticed the baby’s breath. It was still white. It was still vibrant. It is beautiful. So:

Gypsophila paniculata is native to Central and Eastern Europe, but grows all over the world. It is considered invasive in North America. We use it as an accent; a garnish. It is never alone as it compliments bouquets at weddings, and almost any flower arrangement you might pick up at the grocery store or in a florist shop.

And we throw it away when the main attraction fades.

I “saved” this bunch of baby’s breath after the roses I bought over a week ago dried up. It made me think of the milestones and changes that come with life. We reach a goal and then move on. There is a tragedy and we change directions. Many times we think we need to leave the past behind; forget the person because of the hurt or the offense.

Maybe. Consider the fond memories that bring a smile to your face. My father passed away 19 years ago. I miss him at family gatherings and major life events. My relationship with him was different from the one he had with my brother or sister, and I know he loved me deeply. If I throw out the small things that made our relationship special and unique just because of the hurt I feel from his death I lose a huge piece of who I am today.

It is the same with friendships that fade or even the ones that end. If I throw out the memories that make me smile just because the relationship is over, I miss the beauty of what was once very special.

 

If you enjoy my blog and would like to follow me on Facebook, I can be found at The Reluctant Survivor. And on Twitter @relucsurvivor.