Albatross of Shadow
Nov. 16th, 2017 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoA day of dramatic skies, with the wind blowing slate-gray clouds whose edges glowed incandescent white when they rolled across the sun. I was happy last night, because the Sparrowhawk had such a good time at his farewell party. Over forty people came, and they all had a good time and said good things to him. They gave him a big fruit bouquet and a bunch of cards. They all thanked him for the work he did and the way he helped them. There are several people now that he has helped to get their PhDs, as well as things at work. He'll be listening in on a dissertation prospectus defense on Monday, even though he'll technically be on personal time next week. He helped them understand the work, and he helped them be their best selves. He's brilliant, but he was also kind and always had a smile for them. He may not have achieved his goal of fixing health care, but any man would be lucky to leave such warm memories behind.
I also felt good yesterday because a couple of people said good things about me. I met my friend Dragonfly for meditation and lunch, and she happened to mention how much my friendship meant to her. She was reminiscing about the day we met. It was at a lunch with a bunch of other women, and I told them about my dream of going to visit God, who was a gay man who ran an animal rescue on the lakeshore. She heard my story and thought "I want to be her friend!" I was really touched by her kind words. And then the Sparrowhawk came home and told me that one of the people he works with, let's call her Miss S, asked if I was coming to the party, and regretted that I wasn't there. She, too, reminisced about meeting me.
It was at a conference in Phoenix to which I accompanied the Sparrowhawk. While he was in meetings, I'd gone for a fantastic walk in the desert. I saw all kinds of plants and wildlife and felt as if I was touching the spirits of the land. But I also learned that you should not go for a walk in the desert in the afternoon, even if you have a hat and a bottle of water. I staggered back into the hotel AC, drank a couple of quarts of water and passed out. Then I woke up and dunked myself in the hotel pool and put on some decent clothes to meet the Sparrowhawk for dinner. It was a fancy dinner hosted by one of their vendors, in a steak house next to the casino. I hate casinos. The contrast of the desert walk to the casino was stark--like day and night, heaven and hell. Casinos just feel evil to me. So by the time I'd walked through the casino to the steak house, my hackles were up and I was ready for trouble. According to Miss S, in the first fifteen minutes I was there, "she told a really funny joke, made some witty comments about the political, and dropped the f-bomb." And Miss S. said to herself, "I LIKE her. I want to be her friend!" All this made me think that maybe wearing your heart on your sleeve isn't all bad, and I felt very lucky to have so many friends.
So I was feeling pretty good, listening to my Pentatonix Christmas album, which I love, while driving. And then they sang "SIlent Night" and I suddenly remembered the cousins singing Christmas carols, including that one, to my father at his wake, as he lay in his coffin. Christmas time and winter makes me think about my father dying, and now I kind of dread winter because it makes me afraid I'm going to lose my mother too. There's no real reason to think that--this year, anyway--because she's doing as well as you'd expect of someone who's 91. But I think about it anyway. I started crying in the car. Boing, boing, boing . . . my heart just bounces around like a red rubber ball.
I still feel very thankful that the Sparrowhawk can leave knowing he is loved, and that I have such good friends.
I also felt good yesterday because a couple of people said good things about me. I met my friend Dragonfly for meditation and lunch, and she happened to mention how much my friendship meant to her. She was reminiscing about the day we met. It was at a lunch with a bunch of other women, and I told them about my dream of going to visit God, who was a gay man who ran an animal rescue on the lakeshore. She heard my story and thought "I want to be her friend!" I was really touched by her kind words. And then the Sparrowhawk came home and told me that one of the people he works with, let's call her Miss S, asked if I was coming to the party, and regretted that I wasn't there. She, too, reminisced about meeting me.
It was at a conference in Phoenix to which I accompanied the Sparrowhawk. While he was in meetings, I'd gone for a fantastic walk in the desert. I saw all kinds of plants and wildlife and felt as if I was touching the spirits of the land. But I also learned that you should not go for a walk in the desert in the afternoon, even if you have a hat and a bottle of water. I staggered back into the hotel AC, drank a couple of quarts of water and passed out. Then I woke up and dunked myself in the hotel pool and put on some decent clothes to meet the Sparrowhawk for dinner. It was a fancy dinner hosted by one of their vendors, in a steak house next to the casino. I hate casinos. The contrast of the desert walk to the casino was stark--like day and night, heaven and hell. Casinos just feel evil to me. So by the time I'd walked through the casino to the steak house, my hackles were up and I was ready for trouble. According to Miss S, in the first fifteen minutes I was there, "she told a really funny joke, made some witty comments about the political, and dropped the f-bomb." And Miss S. said to herself, "I LIKE her. I want to be her friend!" All this made me think that maybe wearing your heart on your sleeve isn't all bad, and I felt very lucky to have so many friends.
So I was feeling pretty good, listening to my Pentatonix Christmas album, which I love, while driving. And then they sang "SIlent Night" and I suddenly remembered the cousins singing Christmas carols, including that one, to my father at his wake, as he lay in his coffin. Christmas time and winter makes me think about my father dying, and now I kind of dread winter because it makes me afraid I'm going to lose my mother too. There's no real reason to think that--this year, anyway--because she's doing as well as you'd expect of someone who's 91. But I think about it anyway. I started crying in the car. Boing, boing, boing . . . my heart just bounces around like a red rubber ball.
I still feel very thankful that the Sparrowhawk can leave knowing he is loved, and that I have such good friends.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-17 01:24 pm (UTC)I'm sorry this is a sad time of year for you.