Adieu!
Happy World Menopause Day, Ladies!
Just when you thought there were no more holidays for Hallmark to cash in on…here you have it. A day for the world to celebrate the cessation of our menstrual cycles.
Happy World Menopause Day, Ladies!
Just when you thought there were no more holidays for Hallmark to cash in on…here you have it. A day for the world to celebrate the cessation of our menstrual cycles.
Today would have been Drew’s birthday. His 50th. Yikes. I always know I’ve come a long way in my grieving process when I’m awake for an hour or two before it dawns on me, “Today would have been _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .” (fill in the special occasion of your choice). In the early days, months and years….I’d live in dread of the upcoming holiday/ anniversary/birthday, etc. Eventually, I didn’t live in dread, but what would happen was almost worse. Because I’d be going along, living my life…aware that one of these special days was approaching, but not really focusing on it. Then…BAM! ZOWIE! it would suddenly be before me and I’d just fall apart.
Ahhh…I remember when my friend’s Aunt Edna used to have these out on her holiday table….next to the tiny reindeer that were hand-carved in Germany… and the sterling silver bowl filled with her festive Christmas balls. Poor Aunt Edna is no longer here, but luckily for us, her naughty salt and pepper shakers live on. And remember, please don’t save these for the holiday table…life is too short not to enjoy them all year long! *
Happy December 26th. It’s Saturday. The day after Christmas. Boxing Day, if you are a Britophile. Although, sadly, I recently learned that Boxing Day is apparently moved to Monday if the 26th falls on a weekend. A pity…but we shall still pretend it’s today, for the sake of this posting.
Since my husband Drew’s untimely death…
(which was very inconvenient and against my direct orders, I might add) I have spent an inordinate number of hours pondering what, indeed, is truly sacred. Perhaps it was because he died at Christmas. I mean, it is difficult to reconcile the death of your soul mate with the simultaneous celebration of the birth of a man whose press release says he is the Son of God. Then you throw Santa Claus and mistletoe into the mix…and you can start to imagine why a woman would need to do some serious pondering in regard to life, love, death and religion. And what is deemed hallowed…and inviolate.
All chipper and bright. Maids-a-milking and chicks dancing and drummer dudes drumming. Sounds like a real party! And that poor partridge, stuck up there in that pear tree, afraid to come down lest he be attacked by the three horny French Hens. Or are they French horns? No matter. And then there are the five golden rings. Ahhh, yes. The rings. Which make me think of wedding rings. And weddings. And marriage. And MY marriage. And my husband. And the fact that he is now my DEAD husband. And the tragedy that was his death by pancreatic cancer, on the magically beautiful snowy morning after Christmas. Circa 2002. Sad is a word that does that Christmas no justice. Yes. How I have always loved Christmas.