The Wasp

"It was good for me to be afflicted."

Psalm 119:71

And I have been afflicted lately.

Another year, another trip around the sun without you.

Last night I remembered the dream I had of you five years ago. I was crawling up a steep cliff, with the voice of a famous broadcaster from NPR who had recently died, urging me to keep climbing. Cokie Roberts kept saying, "Keep going, you can do this. Don't give up" as my muscles burned and my fingers dug into the rocks in such a palpable way that even now my hands ache remembering. Eventually, I pulled myself up onto the ledge and found myself surrounded by a circle of glowing orbs...souls there to meet me. No faces, just whitish gold auras, singing out in celebration for me.....and in the middle a tall glowing figure came toward me. Ian.... I can still feel the love as you put your arms around me and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed....tighter and tighter until I heard and felt a "POP" as your soul merged with mine, You showing me we are inseparable.

At the time I knew it was a visitation;  you showing me that forever you will be right with me, giving me the extra push to keep going and keep loving this one life. 

And so, despite my sadness, this morning I helped a wasp, stuck in my house, get a drink of water. I found her upside down; legs curled in resignation, near death. I picked her up and placed her right-side-up on the porch near the dog bowl. I dripped water near those giant eyes and I squatted waiting. In time, she moved forward enough to pull water urgently into her mouth. Antennae twitched with each long draw of water and I saw life come back. After almost an hour,  she lifted herself into the air and floated away. 

although lately all I have wanted to do is cry and rage and pull in the sky, suddenly my heart was bursting with love.

And rememberance of that dream compelled me to again invite Source into the sacred darkness of my grief, almost like a new heart or a new battery or a shot of carbonation. We are all that wasp, I guess....

I drink this in and thank you Ian and Source.

A Request

Ian,

I miss you, baby. As usual, it's sharper these days, like reinjuring a hurt limb;

familiar pain; 

bitter pain

pain I can't simply ignore.

Lots of things stir me up....weddings, friends talking about their living kids, your friends having babies.

I would love to have known your babies.

After almost eight years I have learned that there is no way to feel ok with any of what happened, at least not this time of year, so my intention is just to stay in the moment and dodge the thoughts that come. Just be happy for others and hope it keeps the sadness at bay. 

Carrie let me cry and pour it out.

I listened to a podcast on the origin of Thanksgiving yesterday while walking, and it intrigued the gloom away for a bit, especially a fun validation about a Quiji board.

The growing book of memories with the boys is growing and I love that they get me.

Jacie came over and hugged some of it away.

I say a fascinating west
ern spotted Orb spider.

Bill wrote me.

Gunnar wrote me.

Phoebe is here, as always, with just the right countenance and syncrony to be my "constant".

Elm leaves fall like corn flakes filling my yard, vexing and pleasing me.

A huge toad lets me pet him as he basks in the dog bowl.

My space heater hums with the first chill of Fall, almost like a robotic friend.

Things to do are plugged into my schedule "just so" that both fill my days and also  exhaust me. It is my daily challeng to find the right balance between too much alone time and  frenzied business that leaves me brittle as a twig.

I miss Chris. I miss Kenzie. I miss You. I miss who we were at one point in time, but I cannot write about that lest my grief overtakes me.

Instead I just try to love fiercely and delight in the lives you all are building for yourselves and release

release

release all three of you to whatever grand adventures you seek in your "becoming".

So as I go on today please help me.

Place stepping stones before me.

Help me find and delight in the small miracle of them, as they are placed before me,

I don't want to just survive, I want to thrive and I do know that you want that for me, too. 

I know that Kenzie and Chris do too.

Perhaps stay closer to me today and help me feel you there.

Look out for your sister and brother and the boys today.

We all need you and we are family. They need stepping stones too, I think.

                                                                                                     I love you,                                                                                              Mom