Mourning becomes you…until you are called to dinner.

.

.

Yesterday when I went walking, it seemed as if every dog walker in the neighborhood was out walking his or her dog; it was after work and a beautiful evening.  Today all of the gardeners were out and that too made sense as it was such a gorgeous day. I greeted many front-yard gardeners and admired aquiligia, clematis, salvia, iris and dianthus blooms, and lots of lush and leafy greenery. I even saw a blue hosta.

Seeing all of the blooms was a happy and invigorating thing, so happy that I was able to stave off my feelings of sadness for no longer having my own garden to tend.  Maybe someday.

I reflected on the past week and its lingering melancholy, which of course is normal, but also a sort of “grief creep” to which I hadn’t paid much attention until today on my walk. I hadn’t realized all of the things and people that I had been mourning this last week. No wonder I was in such inner turmoil.

It makes sense that the older we get, the more triggers we have collected that can take us right back to earlier times, emotionally. Like, one of the songs at the funeral was from my sister’s funeral, so that got me thinking of my sister and her death, too. It’s not like she is ever far from me and my thoughts, but I felt as though I mourned her all over again with the audio flashback to her funeral. Then, I somehow time-traveled to my father’s funeral, and then to his death and the death of my childhood and of family life as we knew it …

Sheesh. That’s a lot of deaths in one week.

And, I felt very solitary at the funeral. Everyone in my family had a spouse or significant other. I guess I mourned my marriage too, and then the relationship that followed it.

I think I can at least be gentle with myself for feeling so low.  I can see how many sad things were bouncing around in my head, vying for sympathy. Today I walked and sorted things out a bit and breathed in the beauty of the spring flowers and the fresh air.

On the way home, I stopped at the market and got some fresh organic veggies. It makes me feel good to eat well. So that is next on the agenda, here at my place. If you lived closer, I’d invite you to dinner. That is a sure sign of feeling better, to be wanting company, isn’t it?

.

Advertisements

14 Comments on “Mourning becomes you…until you are called to dinner.”

  1. DM says:

    Dinner invite 🙂 right now that sounds awesome! I’ll mention something to Mrs DM..
    We were talking about you last night after I read to her some of your recent comments…I told her you reminded me of someone we knew who lived locally…(classy and lots of grace) You’ll have to excuse me now while I go scrounging for left overs this whole conversation is making me hungry…later- DM

  2. jazfagan says:

    Lily, I would come to dinner. I would even offer to cook, BTW I am an awesome cook, you would be awe struck by my culinary abilities and my conversational witticisms and we would have a great laugh and a good cry….It’s ok you can always use my shoulder. Peace Jaz

    • lily says:

      Thank you, Jaz. I am not surprised that you are such a good cook. Creative people cannot help but be creative and so creativity often extends to the kitchen. The food and the laugh and cry would be wonderful, I’m sure. Thanks for listening, and for the shoulder. ~ Lily

  3. You’ve been through a lot. Your feelings are your feelings, and you need not ever apologized for them. I’m glad to hear you’re starting to feel better again Lily 🙂

  4. lily says:

    Thank you for your reassuring words, Maggie. I was so cheered to hear of the new baby in your family. Life is the best antidote to death. We keep on, and we smile, at least eventually : ) I am imagining that beautiful new-baby scent and am happy for you that you have her to cuddle, and she has you.
    ~ Lily

  5. free penny press says:

    Sometimes we have to accept the weight, feel it then lay it gently on the side of the road. Your emotions are completely understandable and I am SO happy you are feeling the tug of light and life at your heels.
    I foresee a wonderful summer ahead for you Lily.. I really do!!!
    lynne

    • lily says:

      I certainly hope that your prescience is accurate, Lynne. We Should have wonderful summers, shouldn’t we? Thank you so much for your kindness and understanding. I wish sunshine and happiness for you, and of course Love. Cheers to summer,
      ~ Lily

  6. Mona says:

    Unfortunately we cannot schedule moments of mourning. They slap us upside the head without warning. They peel away in layers, and just when we begin to feel OK, another layer peels away, exposing another raw place.

    You are wise to be gentle with yourself, to allow yourself to feel without ruminating (one of my flaws), to eat healthy foods, and to take walks.

    Blessings to you,
    ~Mona

    • lily says:

      Raw is the perfect word, Mona.
      The eating healthy and exercising is a true bonus to being alone. I may feel sad sometimes, but I feel good. : )
      Thank you and many blessings and much happiness in return,
      ~ Lily

  7. I just love flowers and your photo of the beautiful pink ones was gorgeous. I do not have a green thumb and have to admire garden books and other people’s gardens and even the florist display at the grocery. I would bring you a Peace rose if I were to come for dinner and would love to chat with you. But just feel my love in your heart and it is a blessing to know you over our blogs.
    Joy

    • lily says:

      Aw sweet. One peace rose would be heavenly– its scent and soft petals, soft colours. Thank you so much, Joy!
      Your name is as apt as can be.
      Happiness,
      ~ Lily

  8. janinevasta says:

    It is indeed a positive sign Lily. Eating well and better still in company sounds absolutely the best thing any of us could be doing. Living each day. Being kind and gracious with ourselves and everyone else. I would love to accept your invitation Lily. Jxx

    • lily says:

      Yes, you are right. Kind and gracious — I strive to be. And you are.
      Maybe we will meet and dine al fresco in golden light on cobblestone, one day. You never know, in this life.
      Enjoy every Italian moment, Janine!
      ~ Lily


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s