Friday, January 21, 2011
I just talked with Stacey, my vet. She stopped by this afternoon to see how Billy is doing. He doesn't have long, I fear. She will drop off a different kind of medicine to manage the pain in his left knee tomorrow. She said that he may do ok for another month or so...but then, the day WILL come when he just won't be able to get up once he lies down. Bless his dear heart. He is still so alert. still whinneys when I go out to feed him...still relishes his organic apple or carrot before lunch. Oh, my gosh. How on earth can I even think about the inevitable. The pain deepens with every passing day, knowing that each day only brings us closer to his last. Nearly half my life he's shared. The great given, that which I love I must someday say good bye to, is always shoved aside, deep into the recesses of tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes. May God give me the strength.
Monday, January 10, 2011
From Sears Kay Ruin out by Seven Springs, to Hieroglyphic Spring in the Superstitions, to the marvelous place we call home, it was totally wonderful to reconnect with my sister Teona, her very delightful daughter (and my neice!) Kaysee, my brother Jim (all the way from San Diego) and last but not least, the cousin I had not seen in nearly 30 years, Shaun Holly. Time has such a way of tricking us into believing that it doesn't matter so much if we put off keeping in touch, neglect those little random acts of kindness, postpone sending that card, forget to make that call. And suddenly you realize that the months have past, the years flown and so much of what could have been, should have been, would have been isn't and each of us are the poorer because of it's absence. Looking at these photos and many others like them, I am also struck by the fact that with those we love, even despite the lapse of too much time, we can (and do) always reconnect somehow and in the connecting, find ourselves once again enriched beyond anyone's calculation, and part, deeply relishing the very precious time spent together.
I love this photo of one of the roses in the bouquet Gary sent me in memorium of Bill's death, now 30 years ago. It symbolizes, first the shadows that engulfed my life, then the faint edges of newness, unfolding into the brilliant and sometimes transparent beauty of a life I could not have designed, complete with fragrance and colors both unexpected and unequivocally essential to the now I know and the tomorrow I await.