Reality of Loss

 

 

Oliver 2005-2019

We lost our bright boy Oliver six years ago.

He was the purest, most gentle soul you'd ever want to meet in this life or the next.

One of my favorite stories about him is when I'd go around the house, picking up all the toys and putting them in an open-topped bin. He would follow me around, watching me. Once I was done, he would walk behind the TV stand, go to the bin, and pull out his favorite leopard-print kicker toy. Always took the same route, always pulled out the same toy.

Fly free, sweet boy. We miss you a lot.

 

On Your Birthday, I Visit You in My Heart

It's Lissa's birthday today.  She would've been 57 years old.

I wanted to do something to mark the day, didn't want it to pass as though it were just another nondescript date on the calendar, but nothing I thought of felt right.

I considered going to the old cemetery in Tully Park, spending some meditative time among the dead.  Some may consider that morbid, but cemeteries are very peaceful places.  However, I knew there would probably be people flowing in and out of that area, and I have a hard time crying in public.  Deep down, I know there's nothing wrong with doing so.  But as a kid, I cried a lot and was teased for it, so I have a block about being vulnerable around others.

Instead, I walked up to the grocery store in one of our sister buildings and bought a small red velvet cake.  I sang "Happy Birthday" to her, starting to cry in the middle of the song, finishing with "I really miss you."

With each bite I took, I said aloud something I loved about her:  Her laugh, her kindness, her willingness to drive us everywhere (since I wasn't comfortable driving in big cities), her devotion to caring for her mother and her nephew when they were experiencing life-altering challenges, going on adventures with me, being my best friend.

I'm planning to spend the rest of the afternoon listening to Corey Hart (one of her favorites) and reading her creative blog (LaLa Creates).

On Facebook, I shared my post from last year where I said I hoped that her birthday in 2025 would be less sad and painful.  It is not.  The pain has gone from sharp to gnawing but it still eats at my soul.  This is her first birthday to hit when I've been in Ireland, and she was an Irish lass.  I said on Facebook "I hope I've pulled some of her essence with me so she can soar over the green hills and dance on the sea."

I miss you, dearest friend.

She gifted me with this beautiful wooden trinket box for the holidays one year, inside which was this slip of paper.  It reads " Into this box, I have placed my happy memories of times we've shared, struggles over which we've triumphed, our tears of joy, our girlish laughter.  each time you open it, may you feel the blessings of our friendship, may your heart smile, may you know the magnitude of happiness your love has brought to my life."