Absolutely gorgeous flowers. Gorgeous. Given COVID, we're not having a service, and it's winter and I certainly don't want to even go get a drink inside, much less have dinner with a friend. So I guess there's nothing else to do but for people to send flowers. The house has become a funeral parlor of flower arrangements. And, I have to say, having a "send flowers" mentality myself, it's made me rethink what to do for people who are grieving. While the flowers are beautiful, and thoughtful and truly mean a lot to receive, after the 8th arrangement arrived, I almost cried because I couldn't take it any more. I was internally screaming "please stop," then kicking myself for being irritated instead of thankful that I have people who love me and want to send their condolences. I wasn't sure at first if it was the amount, and not having any more space for them, as they kept coming, particularly because the house's free spaces were occupied by Christmas decorations. But then I realized what was getting me down.Having flowers is something I actually LOVE, and it's the reason I've transformed are yard into vast perennial and annual cutting gardens. But in my grief (and clearly off the charts irritability) they represented something else I had to nurture, another reason I couldn't just let things go and grieve. I was in the middle of selling my other house, loads of details, I am the primary cook, shopper, cleaner, list maker, accountant and property manager for this house. When things arrived that I had to tend to, it was just too much. For chrissakes I lost control of details for a single day and I got a late fee on my credit card. It was due the 18th and mom died the 17th. I let things go FOR A DAY and I'm nearly $100 in the hole because of it. That hasn't happened since I was a poor young teacher. Another thing. Flowers also die - slowly; is that the message we want to remind the grieving of? I mean, seriously. It doesn't feel like we've thought this thing through!! I can tell you, it has not been enjoyable or comforting to change water, add food, cut stems, pick out dead stuff, and, watch these gorgeous bouquets shrivel and die stem by stem. From now on, I'm sending food. This is my solemn vow to my loved ones who may experience grief in the future: will make and bring you or send you food. The grieving need crocks of pulled pork, pans of enchiladas, lasagne, cheese plates, bagels and babkas! No one wants to cook while they're grieving, so more food, fewer flowers, from here on!
January 1, 2022
Happy Hanukkah ! NOTE:The photograph is on its side. The first try, upside down. I reversed the photograph on my phone but it was still upside down when uploaded. In any case, Chag Sameach ! The word “hanukkah” means “dedication” in Hebrew. We dedicate yhis sacred time each evening to praise God and express our gratitude for life. For decades we used a smaller, lovely menorah hand crafted in silver by annIsraeli artist. A few years ago, we discovered this ceramic menorah and ever since that day, we look forward to the upturned, expressive faces on this ceramic menorah. Some faces are in awe, others disrracted, a few serenely pleased in the reflected light that grows brighter each of eight nights. It is a quiet time post sunset as my husband listens while I chant the prayer “Baruch ata.....” followed by a shared kiss. In he candle light within the silent space, we pray for a release from this pandemic. The vaccine has arrived here in Connecticut. We pray for those families with grievous losses this year, some as thec result of Covid, others with losses less closely related to the virus but who suffer the social distancing imposed. We grieve online, on zoom, via emails, streaming yet our tears are real, they stream down our faces. The light reassures is there is hope. Our arms will wrap about our loved ones soon, the vaccine has arrived.
December 16, 2020