December 25th, 2016 in The Richness of Each Day, December 2016
- Dec. 25, 2016, 10:46 p.m.
- |
- Public
The day was perfect. How rich each part of it was, the day spent alone and getting ready for the guests. The several visits from a big hawk out in the garden. A Christmas Hawk. Then the guests in the late afternoon, dear ones all. The greatsies jumping up and down when they recognized me behind the doors of the strange new house, the chatter about Santa’s gifts, the three month old baby so adorable, sleeping through the evening. My dear friends, Ron and Terri. The honeymoon couple. The triple rainbow outside when Ron and Terri arrived. Then later the attentiveness of the grandchildren and my daughter, cleaning up the kitchen before they left, and picking up the children’s toys, putting the doll house away. And now at about ten thirty at night, sitting with a square of chocolate cake and coffee, I am thinking about the small things lit by love that make me happy. How small they are. How important.
Perhaps I am learning that there is a balance to be sought that includes both sadness and happiness. The seesaw of life long lived, I suppose.
I was sad today, my love’s birthday. I was happy today, more than I was sad.
It’s always going to be love that keeps me going, that life balance of a softened grief and a deeply appreciated happiness despite grief – plus family and the natural world. I can more than survive on that grid. I must have it.
Last updated December 30, 2016
ODSago ⋅ December 26, 2016
Yes...you understand well.
noko ⋅ December 26, 2016
Such a major accomplishment to get the balance of this one perfect day. I'd be curious to know what kind of hawk you had and what was attracting it to your yard but that is just me...
ODSago noko ⋅ December 26, 2016
I thought of it as a red shouldered hawk, which I used to see when I was living near the golf course and state park. I found that they often flew over that yard if I was moving through it and always called out, it's only me. I haven't seen squirrels or other little creatures in this yard, however. Perhaps it was only resting on a fence post on its way elsewhere.
MageB ⋅ December 29, 2016
Yes, the sad leavens the happiness all around usually for a balance that I can live with . So glad you had this glorious Christmas day.
Deleted user ⋅ December 31, 2016
Excellent
Marg ⋅ January 10, 2017
And if we didn't have that sadness we wouldn't be able to appreciate the happiness when it comes along :)
ODSago Marg ⋅ January 10, 2017
I've heard that said. Don't know that I believe it, to tell the truth.
Marg ODSago ⋅ January 10, 2017
Well I can see the theory behind it - if you've had real sadness or been at rock bottom then you appreciate normal life much more than perhaps if you generally coast along neither up or down. And therefore happiness would be more intense as a result. Or it could have just been said by someone in the depths of depression who needed a liferaft to hang to!! :D
ODSago Marg ⋅ January 10, 2017
Oh, I was just thinking about times standing in the back yard with Kermit when our children were still almost babies and watching them play and being happy -- just filled with happiness and turning to Kermit and saying that it was the best time of our past, present, and future lives and seeing his face when he agreed with me. It was the best moment of my life, I think, looking back. I'd had no grief back then...none. I would be 52 before someone I loved died. Fortunate wasn't I? And lots of happiness along the way to that age.
I do appreciate happiness now more than I did just after Kermit's death, but it is always tinged a bit with loss.
Marg ODSago ⋅ January 11, 2017
Gosh yes you were! That's pretty unusual to get to that age I would say before you had to face any deaths.
ODSago Marg ⋅ January 12, 2017
There were a few deaths but none of people I loved deeply. Sorrow but not deep grief.