Wednesday, December 5

up one pair of stairs....






 ...we are...taking small trips away from home to be with friends and music and diversion...





 ...or at home...finding always another thing to wash...or put away....or hide out of sight...





 ...those material things that remind us too keenly of the last weeks...





 ...finding comfort in some new arrangements...and glad of the hours when the closed doors and all the last tasks that await when I am ready to open them, don't press in upon our fragile barriers...





 On Monday, when I was in my studio to do my morning exercises, I found myself staring-instead-at the bookshelves. A title leapt out at me from a book I had bought for the picture on the cover and hadn't really looked at again...Up One Pair of Stairs.





 I liked the sound of it "a pair of stairs"...not just one...not "halfway up the stairs" like a favorite Milne poem (not that I felt anywhere close to that sort of progress)...but a "pair of stairs"...it felt...hopeful...





 ...and we continue to receive little messages...










 


































































...the thing is...we just miss her sweet presence so deeply...in our home...in our lives...

I was taking a bath the other evening, in our outdoor tub. As I lay back and looked at the stars, I couldn't help but think of shooting stars and people leaving the earth and all of that...and as soon as I thought of it, I said to myself, even a shooting star wouldn't break through my numbness...then, of course, a second or two later a falling star left its trail in the very spot in the firmament I was gazing upon. I sat, disbelieving for awhile...then feeling a small stirring in my heart. I spent the next few minutes carefully watching the sky for another falling star, you know, to discount the one that went before....but no. When Douglas came out with a glass of wine for me, I casually asked him if he had seen any shooting stars when we had his bath just before and he said that he hadn't.

Then I told him what had happened to me and we decided that I could take it as a message from Mom...that she is ok...that she is happy....that I needn't be so sad...even tho' I miss her...even tho' there are still hard things to face.

And the next day seemed a good day to begin to plant the bulbs that have been waiting almost a month to be planted. Mom fell the day before we were originally going to plant them....that November day was going to be warm, Doug was going to be home, we were going to tuck Mom up with warm wraps in a chair nearby. And this December day was indeed warm...and I had a goat and a dog and a cat for company...I was given a glimpse of what my days ahead might be like...and I welcomed what I saw.



6 comments:

melissa said...

I'm glad you're wearing your mom's ring...such a comfort. <3

kkkkaty said...

I agree with Melissa..and the shooting star was meant for you to see..

sarah said...

step by step, star by star.

Julianne said...

And I do believe you will see your mom again, by and by. :)

The Barefoot Crofter said...

I've found you again - thank you for letting me know. I read the story of your Mother's last days with tears in my eyes. What a precious, fragile time you are in - when the veil is thin. She will always be with you. Sending you love and strength

Tracey McBride ~ Frugal Luxuries® said...

So sorry to read about your loss...so happy at your mother's newfound freedom. The shell wears out...especially so when the soul outgrows it. I am feeling joy at having found you again. Your gift for beautifully conveying what we all feel...or have felt...or will feel... soothes and amazes me. Sending good thoughts to you.
Love,
Tracey xox

P.S. your mother must have been quite wonderful to have been gifted a daughter such as you.