Loss...

 I lost a friend recently. She was, without a doubt, the biggest fan of my blog. The thought of writing a post and her not seeing it has kept my fingers off the keyboard. I met her shortly after we moved to Maine. I used to groom her dog, and when she adopted a second dog, I cared for both of them. The dogs were frequent visitors at the farmlette, staying with us while my friend traveled.  The dogs passed, but the relationship remained. She was deeply generous, once unclipping her dog's leash and giving it to me when I complimented it. Another time she showed up here with a top-of-the-line wheelbarrow for me to use when I cleaned my animal houses. It was the type of barrow I had longed for but would never have splurged on. In recent years as her health failed her, she was unable to get out much, and she often told me that my blog posts were often the highlight of her day. She was the sort of person that was unable to have a short phone conversation, and usually, after she read a post of mine, she would call to discuss it. She would laugh at the parts I hoped people would find amusing and feel sad when things were grim. Then, she would retell me the entire post with a tone of wonder in her voice, showing me in the remembered details that she had read the thing more than once. If I could not answer the phone, she often left messages that went on and on, sweetly. It was touching and encouraging, and to think I will never get another one of those long, warm, rambling, praise-filled calls makes my heart sad. She leaves a legacy I will never know the extent of because I only knew her in the last sliver of her long, productive life. A quick-witted lawyer, she was active in the civil rights movement. She left many family members, friends, and acquaintances better for knowing her. She saw me in a way that made me feel treasured and appreciated, and her passing has left a palpable void in my daily life. I will miss you, J.C.A. 

My former brother-in-law also passed recently. I was a young teen when he married my oldest sister, and for most of their married years, they lived many states away. My happy memories of him centered around when his children were small. He had a slow smile and enough southern charm to make him enjoyable to talk with. A skilled welder, he took pride in his work and used to astonish me with stories of working on tall buildings and up on enormous bridges spanning swift-running rivers, with nothing but a steel beam between him and the vacant space that led to the ground.  There were jam sessions with him, his brother, and various friends, where bluegrass music was picked out on banjos and guitars and sung with a Virginia twang. Those were fun times, but I never knew him well and rarely saw him after he and my sister divorced many years ago. His relationship with his children was, as my niece succinctly put it, "complicated." Yet, he was once a family member, and because of him, I have a beloved niece, nephew, and grandnieces. He is one of "my" generation, and his death feels like a piece of the puzzle of our family unit has been misplaced forever. Godspeed, Sandy. 

This month I will celebrate my 63rd circle around the sun, and this decade and those to come stand to be peppered with more endings than beginnings. This fact helps me remember to appreciate the gifts that relationships bring and to be grateful for the joyful moments gifted to me each day.