Wake Me When It’s Over

Tags

loss, year in review

I usually write this annual post around the 26^th or 27^th of December, right between the buzz of Christmas gatherings and the fireworks of the new year.  But this year is different.  This year I don’t really feel like writing the post, and I’m not sure why.  Tradition, however, is kicking me in the butt right now and I am taking the hint.  So, on this last day of 2021 – and, in fact, in the final hour of the year –  I once again present our annual year in review.

As I looked through the photos of this past year, it should not have surprised me that a solid 75% of them were of our pets.  And maybe that’s why I wasn’t ready for this review. We lost two of those beloved pets this year, and even though the memories are sweet, the loss is recent enough that the pictures still sting just a little.  If only it were possible to truly capture their abundant personalities in photos so that you could understand how incredibly lucky we are to call these animals ours.  Such is the limitation of photography, I guess. Thankfully it is not the limitation of memory.

Without further adieu, let’s see what 2021 looked like from my camera roll. 

January

I came home at the end of a day to one of our smoke alarms beeping, alerting me to the need for a battery change.  No bigs, right?  Unless you’re Max.  He was so wigged out by the beeping that he bolted out of the door and right into the open back end of my vehicle where I was about to unload groceries.  Over the groceries, over the back seat and into the front seat this 90 pound fur factory clumsily climbed through my car in an effort to escape the soundtrack of his nightmares.  It took me roughly twenty minutes to get him out of my car, and I have no shortage of videos of him considering the exit, turning in the seat, and repositioning himself, staring intently at me as if willing me to drive him as far away from this haunted house as possible. 

February

Ahhh, the snow days.  Max’s Husky soul was in absolute heaven!  Mabel spent most of her time outside yelling at Max while he frisked around in the snow.

March

Boo was our first cat experience.  He was Victoria’s cat who entered our lives in October of last year.  Boo spent most of his short life recovering from various illnesses at our home, and Max got to understand cats because of Boo, as did Dom and I.

April

Few things make us as happy as seeing cardinal families at our bird feeder.

May

As we laid Boo to rest, we prepared our flowerbed for future graves, knowing we would be adding to it sooner than we wanted to. St. Francis stands watch over our fur babies, illuminated at night by two solar spotlights. 

June

My parents celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary in relative quiet with me and Dom.  Through fifty years of promised love and restraint from wringing each other’s necks, they are my role models. I love you, Mom and Dad.

July

Once Victoria had cried enough tears for Boo, she got Socko, a male kitty who is a sweetheart of a snuggler.  Pepper (Aaron’s cat) hates him. Max isn’t sure if he should snuggle or run.  All I know is, this is the only kitty who hasn’t attacked my Christmas tree.  Rock on, little Sockster.

August

The hardest part of this year, by far – saying goodbye to a faithful companion just a month shy of her 13^th birthday. Mabel was Dom’s pup from the beginning, and losing her left a giant hole in our hearts.

September

September tried to sneak by unnoticed, but on the early morning of September 19^th, our outdoor kitchen was engulfed in flames. Max awoke us to the danger with his barking and potentially saved the entire house.  Damage was thankfully limited to the patio, and we are working toward restoration now. 

October

It only took me three years, but I finally made it to my bridge.  Thank you, Bella, for making sure all the pics were perfect. 

November

There is nothing Max loves more than when we stock or restack the wood racks.  They are his own personal toyboxes, as far as he is concerned.  He will always grab a log and haul off to chew it, perfectly content with his new treasure. 

December

Since Pepper, Aaron’s cat, has not yet had a photo in this year’s review, here she is under the tree sampling the presents. Pepper is a real sweetheart as long as no animal but Max is in the house. Let her even catch a whiff of Socko, though, and kitty has claws!

These past two years have just stunk, worldwide, and I don’t have the energy this year to laugh it off or make wisecracks about how ridiculous my worries were over the past twelve months.  It is my prayer for each of you that the next year is better than 2021 in every way, that you enjoy peace and health and happiness in ways you have not known.  I pray that 2022 will be infinitely better than the previous two years have been.  You deserve it.  We all do.

Peace to you, my friends. 

In Memoriam: The Greats

Tags

celebration of life, family, great-uncles, loss, mourning

In the course of the last seven weeks Dom and I have lost three of our great-uncles. Though I recall only recent visits with the two uncles on my side of the family, I was accustomed to seeing Dom’s great-uncle at Mass every Saturday. All three men were spry, witty and energetic for their ages. I loved looking through their photos and hearing them reminisce with tales from their youth – or, at the very least, tales predating my own youth. It is not lost on me that we were blessed to have known these uncles for so long, to have been a part of their lives and to have had them as a part of ours. They loved and treasured their families and are greatly missed by those of us who were fortunate enough to enjoy their company on this earth.

Lawrence Louis Ebarb
September 27, 1923 – February 19, 2014

Uncle Larry (far right) with Uncle Alvin and twin sister Aunt Florence

Roy Emanuel Harris
September 16, 1927 – March 25, 2014

Uncle Roy with sisters Martha and Chris

Keith Eldon Wilson
June 16, 1926 – March 28, 2014

Have you ever seen a more contented smile?

 

Though I believe each of these dear men are now happily reunited with loved ones who have gone before us, my heart breaks for our family members who feel their loss so deeply: my grandmother and our great-aunts who have said goodbye to their brothers and husband, our second-cousins who will miss their dads, and also for our first-line aunts and uncles as well as our parents – Dom’s mom and my dad – who can recall these towering personalities from their own childhoods. I pray the Lord will hold them close through their sorrow and bestow unending peace upon them.

Times of loss bring the words of Tolkien to me with immense comfort: “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass. Then you see it!… White shores, and beyond. A far green country, under a swift sunrise.”

Hail and Farewell, sweet and gentle men. May you rest eternally in peace.

The Vaulted Files: Treasured Ornament

Tags

Christmas, Christmas decorations, keepsakes, loss, memory, ornaments

The Vaulted Files is a series of writings I am finding as I weed through years of unpublished posts stored on my computer.  This one was originally written in January 2011. 

I set out yesterday morning with one goal in mind: it was time to put away the Christmas decorations.  Sadly, the joyous season is over, but we have the blessing of preparing for a new year, new weather, and new adventures in life.

It took most of the day, but the whole family was instrumental in packing away the décor and putting the house back into its former state.  The last remaining task left to complete yesterday evening was the packing and storing of all my china ornaments which had hung this season on a tall gold-metal rotating tree loaned to me by my mom.  As I disassembled it and packed away my most prized ornaments, Victoria appeared beside me ready to help.

Since many of the ornaments are in fact hers, I said she could help pack them away, but they were all very special and had to be placed back into their original boxes in very particular fashion.  Victoria is a pro at packing stuff away, and with a small squeal of delight she began plucking ornaments.  We would talk about each one, or make some comment about a particular set of ornaments as we worked.

When all the ornaments were placed back into their respective boxes, Vic began asking about the ornaments that didn’t come out this year.  There are very few ornaments in my “special” box that I do not display, but there is one particular ornament that I have not removed from its original gift bag since I received it in 2003.  Victoria spied the ornament inside the bag and anxiously exclaimed, “Mommy!  Mommy! There’s a pretty blue one in here!  You didn’t take it out!! Can I see it????”

I drew a deep breath and reached into the bag, feeling the familiar Limoges ornament that had only been opened one other time.  “This one is from Aunt Maxine, Mimi’s sister,” I explained.  And then I simply couldn’t say anything more.

There is something so stirring about this ornament that it brings me to tears just thinking about it.  Dominic’s Aunt Maxine passed away during the first week of December in 2003.  On Christmas Eve of that year, my Mother-in-Law handed me a small gift bag, the same one Victoria excitedly peered into last night.  As I reached into the bag and unlocked the ornament on Christmas Eve 2003, there was a tiny circle of paper inside that read “With Love from Aunt Maxine.  December 2003.”  Maxine’s daughter, Maggie, had been responsible for making sure all of Maxine’s gifts got delivered to their intended recipients that year.  I cried the night I received it, and I cried again last night.

Update:

I neglected to properly conclude the post back in early 2011, but I recall Victoria insisting that the ornament needed to be displayed.  And she’s right.  Her statement reminded me of my maternal grandmother’s conviction that even our nicest things were to be used and enjoyed regularly, not kept hidden away in boxes.  Since that conversation, the ornament given to me from Aunt Maxine hangs proudly on the Christmas tree with my other treasured keepsakes.  The small paper circle remains inside reminding me of the love Aunt Maxine had for her family.

 

“You Expect to Lose Your Parents…

Tags

Death, funerals, grieving, loss, prayer

…but you don’t expect to lose your child. This is a pain like nothing I have ever felt.”

These words were spoken by a friend tonight as she grieved for the sudden death of her son. I cannot possibly imagine the pain she referenced, and there is nothing I can say or do to ease it. Prayers are all I have to offer, and I offer them with the most sincere desire that adding my tears to hers will somehow help.

It won’t. That’s the raw, fragmented-tissue-exposure that death leaves for us when it enters our realm. It’s brutal and it hurts like hell, no matter how many of us grieve together. No matter our faith or our belief in the next life, death just… sucks. No two ways about it.

So we hug each other and grieve in unison, trying to hold together the pieces of each other that we can still feel. And we pray.

We pray so very hard.

Another dear friend lost her momma this morning. Even when we expect it, even when we know it’s coming, we are still never ready to let go of those we love.

May everyone who grieves these unbearable losses find comfort. And may their loved ones be welcomed into Heaven by a host of angels, there to rest eternally in Christ’s peace.