Gift of Happiness

Taking advantage of the dry weather yesterday afternoon, my daughters, granddaughter, and I, headed over to the outdoor German Christmas Market.  Bundled up against the cold, warm beverages in hand, we wandered from stall to stall, appreciating the European wares, festive decorations, and delicious fare.  While holding the baby, I watched my daughters conferring with each other over possible stocking stuffers for their husbands, and felt deeply connected to my maternal lineage, both present and past.  Many years ago, as a young mother, I had visited a similar market in Germany, with my mother and her sister.  Here, as the Oma, out with my daughters and granddaughter, I recognized that the cultural and hereditary connections of women in my family were very much alive.  After saying our goodbyes, I arrived home, and while unpacking the white dove I had purchased for my tree, I was aware that every cell in my body felt fully activated.  It had been quite some time since I felt this way, and as I searched for the word to best describe this state, it eventually dawned on me: Happiness.  A simple outing, resulting in a cherished gift, that serves to sustain me today.    

Under the Same Sun

A year ago today, I last heard your voice.  Calling home from the cabin. Describing the long leisurely walk you had just completed.  Along with Kelly and Diesel.  Under sunny skies, around the frozen snow-covered lake.  Hearing the pure happiness in your voice.  Prompting my heart to smile. Knowing the three of you were enjoying an amazing weekend together.  Holding onto this beautiful image.  Under the same sun, my son, that is thankfully shining down on me today.

Money is Not Real

Financial news making headlines daily.  Drama and fear the dominant energies involved.  Observing this with detachment.  Understanding money is not real.  Knowing from a young age that we exist without it. The notion of amassing large amounts lost on me.  Wondering about its position at the top of the value list for so many.  The pursuit and protection of it absorbing most of their time and energy.  Resulting in an absence of loving and meaningful relationships.  Contentment and happiness remaining elusive states.  Curious choice indeed.

Not Too Soon

"Is it not too soon?"  "In my culture, the bereaved do not attend celebrations for a year." "This would be considered disrespectful in my family." These some of the comments I heard during the time leading up to the memorial golf tournament.  I had not even considered that concern when we began planning a few weeks after the accident.  These remarks were reminders that the "rules" for grieving and mourning are very diverse.  In some cultures the immediate family members wear black for an extended period of time.  In others, mourning attire is white.  Not black and white.  Black or white.  Or red, yellow, purple.  As with most rituals and traditions, there is no universal "right" or "wrong".  As for me, I will continue to make my choices based on what resonates within.  Judging from the feedback, that event resulted in so many experiencing some solace, moments of happiness, and a slight lessening of the pain.  How on earth would it have been more "proper" to wait a year or more?

Favourite Place

Today we will be driving up to the lake for the weekend.  It's time, but it won't be easy.  Laying flowers at the accident site and picking up belongings at the police station en route.  Arriving at the cabin, looking for signs of Michael's, Kelly's and Diesel's last stay there. Placing Diesel's fancy leather collar on Oma's willow tree to commemorate his full life. To balance out the sadness, there will be the knowing that this was Michael's favourite place to be, and that he was able to enjoy it so much over the years with his family, friends, and dog.  His energy will be felt there, always.