Good Morning, quiet, peaceful Sunday. My built in weather forecaster, mentioned that we MAY get some real snow in a week or so. I am thoroughly amazed that some people track weather for a hobby. I mean, they look ahead, watch the patterns, they must worship the doppler or weather radar. It’s crazy to me, It’s as if mother nature doesn’t have a mind and a plan of her very own. Silly. I’m a New Yorker, therefore, if I awake and I see that magical, beautiful, white stuff, I take it all in, snow is so pure and beautiful to me and then feverishly WISH for a snow day! I have 101 idea’s, crafts, decorating, cooking, organizing. I love a snowstorm! I use it as a mental health me day.
My forecast is more like….am I shopping today? Where first? What can I foolishly talk myself into buying? Silly, right? I can’t resist the 50-80% off clearance sales. I clean up after the holidays, always have. I find cool, useful, beautiful gifts for a fraction of their retail. I often wind up with a few bags of goodies for next year. I wish I had words for 90% off fairy lights…yes, fairy lights…I know, so pretty, but really, I don’t have any fairies yet. This is a shop o holics life I suppose. Perhaps, it’s a sign, like, I need a fairy around me? or a fairy Godmother? I’m down for that.
I shared last week that we had a small memorial service for my brother Thomas. We met and we spread his ashes at the gravesite, and I read some of my loving words and we gently, laid him to rest. I thought it was important today to share how this helped me with my grief and healing. I did not know how healing and important his memorial would be. I did not know I would feel a bit of closure and peace from doing it. It was important to me, to acknowledge him. One year passes, some days, nights were endless with grief, other days too busy to obsess. What the service gave me was peace. Perhaps, acknowledging his life, sharing about his pain and suicide, writing about this beautiful, vibrant, loved man, that is so deeply missed, was healing for me. I felt love and compassion and I spoke about accepting and forgiving him. I talked about leaving the anguish, the pain of him leaving there. I talked about moving forward and living life. Living the best we can. I wanted hope to reign. I wanted our children to fully understand, life is worth the fight. Although, he could not fight anymore, we can.
This week, I kept having flashbacks of the balloons we released. We wrote a message on them and released them into the sky. My balloon got tangled in the big oak tree. I fretted for a moment and watched the others soar and climb so high and so fast. I was walking over to my Grandparent’s grave and I looked up and saw my start balloon start to wiggle. It was in deep in the branches and it wiggled. I giggled and watched. It stopped. I looked up again, and it wiggled even more, and then it shot up fast. I instantly felt warm, I felt him, and I thought…he was like that all of his life. Fast, smart, climbing, pushing, shooting to the stars. I remember watching it soar & rise, and how fast it caught up to the other balloons. I watched it race and chase the other’s and I thought to myself, he was always chasing, running, soaring. He just never slowed down enough to enjoy the ride. I hope you do now my brother, I love you to the moon & back.