Grief was my constant companion for much of the last ten years.
During that time I lost both of my parents, and my spouse several times over to memory loss.
Caregivers of those afflicted with Alzheimer’s and dementia first lose their loved one as their cognitive skills disappear in several unique stages.
And then they ultimately witness that final loss, with the death of their loved one.
I was no different.
By the time my husband finally passed, there were no tears left to shed.
Yet earlier this week I caught myself crying some after the election.
My tears weren’t particularly tied to the results, but more towards the hatred and lack of civility bubbling over everywhere.
Still those tears weren’t long lived as I know there is much work to do in this country.
I decided I better start with me.
I knew I had to find some peace to feel grounded if I am to be productive in the days ahead.
Making sense of this election and defining next steps will come to me in time, but only after the rhetoric has faded.
So Saturday I chose to find comfort and community while standing in line for shrimp chowder at the local butcher shop, and a generous slice of pumpkin cake at the bakery afterwards.
The warm welcomes and sweet scents soon had everyone inside smiling again.
No phones appeared or politics were spoken in either place.
And this morning it was all about blue grass and lemon grass Thai treats at our Sunday’s Farmers Market.
Humming as I left to stop by a neighborhood church service, I found myself parking further away than needed.
But I knew it would give me a chance later to walk over the bridge of a brook sparkling in the sunshine, and check in on the garden just beyond.
After the service, upon entering I discovered fragrant and strong yellow roses were still blooming in the breeze.
And cheerful white daisies, too.
I sang softly, “…life goes on in endless song” from the closing hymn I’d just heard.
Yes, I believe it really does.
Even in November of one particularly nasty election year.