Monday, December 31, 2018

Journal Entry – December 2018


I sit back in my recliner to reflect on 2018. I think of things like having another foot surgery, beginning to play orchestra again, finding a sting quartet, writing music, teaching my piano and violin students, writing stories, the many amazing walks with Taj, time spent with dear friends, and my fantastic trip to England to see Shannon, Kirsten, Amelia and Finn. Those highlights gave shape and substance to my life, delighting, engaging and challenging me to set my priorities and stay fully present. What stands out most though, are a few times—so profound and compelling, so exceptional I want to share them.
 
I spent the night in the hospital with a friend after her hip replacement. I finally fell asleep on a hard odd thing that I had rearranged from a chair into a kind of bed. I was awakened to confusing darkness and sounds of my friend struggling to breathe. Her asthma had been compromised from the surgery. I do not remember getting to her side. There was no time to find the nurses call button. I just remember holding, rocking, breathing slowly, calming, finding breath...
 
A friend broke her leg badly and, after surgery began her recovery process in a rehab center. One morning I arrived early with a cup of hot green tea. I helped her into her wheelchair and out we went into the world. It was perfect June. We went slowly so as not to miss a single thing. We were filled with wonder and had no thoughts of pain, or uncertainty...
 
Taj and I were walking at Golden Ponds Wilderness Area one morning. We seemed to have the entire place to ourselves. Suddenly Taj stopped abruptly. A long way ahead was a woman walking toward us. As we continued on he forgot completely about his beloved grass and kept his focus on the woman. When she was a hundred feet away he broke into a run and stopped at her feet. She burst into tears. “I had to put my dog down several months ago. This was our favorite walk. I haven’t been able to come back until today.”
 
A friend asked me to be with him as he transitioned to death. He was tired, he said, and ready. As comfort care was established he spoke about painting. He recounted some favorite memories from his life. Then he told about when his son was born and how his life had changed completely the moment he held his newborn and they locked eyes. Just then a large tear rolled down his cheek. I caught it on my finger, turned to his son and rubbed it gently onto his heart...
 
I sat with Amelia and Finn on either side of me, my arms around them. They leaned into me. I shut my eyes, trying to remember everything. I so want to be able to bring back this memory whenever I want...
 
I took a redeye to the East Coast. You should have seen my sister’s face when she opened her front door and found me there—her 70th birthday surprise!
 
Wishing you a gentle New Year filled with lovely moments to treasure and enjoy!