I called my dear friend G in tears last night because the person who was supposed to email me with the information on Ricky’s funeral got my email address wrong and I missed it. G was going to call, but she assumed I had gotten the email but couldn’t go. I guess I was not meant to be there.
I so needed the closure. But there is nothing I can do. The funeral is over, and now I need to find closure some other way. I’m seeing that Ricky’s death brings up old losses for me. Losses I’m still mourning on some level. The loss of my mother at 46, my father at 63. I wanted more time with them. I wanted more time with my friend Ricky, too. But we each have our alloted years in a body, until it’s time for us to leave those bodies behind.
The living are left in bodies with minds to remember the dead. When we go, will they remember us laughing? Will they remember the depth of our hearts, our capacity for love? That’s how I remember Ricky. That “cackle,” as G put it. Fiery spirit. That’s how I want to be remembered.
It occurs to me as I write this: perhaps I don’t need closure as much as I need opening. Opening of my heart and mind.
Ricky would approve.
I’m workin’ on it, Ricky!
“Come to dinner,” implored G, after I bemoaned missing the funeral.
I hemmed and hawed, afraid Sami would act up after a long day at day care.
But she insisted, promising to send us home with doggie bags if he melted down. And I was grateful to accept. Now that A and her family are gone, it’s so quiet in my house again.
It was so lovely to sit down to a home-cooked meal, wonderful conversation, and just the feeling of being nurtured and cared for. Sami was chill and happy and played quietly with us and by himself.
The best part of the night was when G brought out two big heaps of dried lavender sprigs from her garden. Lavender is perhaps one of my favorite herbs - it’s a natural antidepressant, is said to be good for healing childhood wounds, and has a host of other wonderful properties. We stripped the thin leaves from the stems while eating homemade chocolate chip cookies and drinking Earl Grey tea, and when we were done she made me a little potpourri pillow full of lavender to take home with me. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of lavender oil on my fingertips. I felt very alive in those moments.
My spirit is nourished for the day.
Thank you G, for your kindness and the gift of your friendship and lavender.
Welcome to this blog - my chronicle of the illuminating, character-building path of single parenthood. I'm making this up as I go along. My life is my practice, and my five year-old son is my greatest teacher.