FOTO FRIDAY: As is custom, since it's the anniversary since my Dad died, a special light, a yahrzeit candle, is lit. The memorial prayer that is recited holds no mention of death, but rather words of praise to G-d.
Dad was raised Reform so I use the solar calendar date of his passing which was December 1st.
May his light make this world a little brighter...
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| 2 years since his passing... |
TBT is from 13 years ago when I used to do a recipe per week this is a dish I think all of you will appreciate as it only takes about 20 minutes to prepare. No complaints from the peanut gallery.
Take a look and try EASY PEASY
MIDWEEK MUSINGS this week are due to a visit from a friend from my late 70's,1976, that is. We met working as waterfront staff at the Charleston JCC way back when.
We became fast friends and after that summer, I helped her with her Hebrew as she would be marrying into a conservative old Charlestonian Jewish family. I'll never forget my first Shabbos meal at her future in-laws and me cracking a joke after washing hands before the blessing of the challah (bread). OOPS, A big no-no. I was still allowed to be her matron of honor. :)
Missee visited me over the last years in Colorado, Wisconsin, and this was her second visit here to Arkansas. Missee had vowed last year to return to help me clear another closet. That's just the kind of friend she is... 22 evening dresses, long and short were purged and will find new homes. She documented all our doings to not forget our 4 days together ... the Fine Arts Center, tackling leaves -playing in the pile she made, helping our Turkey Day hostess set up tables, arrrange flowers, Turkey Day cleanup of china and silver for 30 alongside me, keeping me focused with daily errand lists, fixing meals together, walks, going to Temple, and even going on a short convertible ride all bundled up as the temps dropped to winter during her stay.
Everyone needs a buddy like Missee.
This Thelma & Louise duo slept well knowing we made the most of our short time together... Can't wait to create havoc again!
Holiday's can bring out all kinds of emotions. I belong to a group on FaceBook called Cool Retired Women where all sorts of news/ issues are posted and readers comment on them. Yesterday I read a very emotional entry by a Senior whose children are all grown up and out of the house and it's holiday time. I thought maybe you might relate/ like to comment.
"My heart did not break the day the doctors told me my husband, Raymond, had passed away. It did not break when I sold the little brick house we lived in for more than forty years because the stairs felt like a mountain.
No. My heart broke on a quiet Tuesday afternoon when I stared at a single text message on my phone.
My name is Eleanor. I am seventy six years old and I live alone in a small condo outside Minneapolis. I want to tell you about the Christmas that almost crushed me. Not because of something dramatic, but because of a sentence that many older people hear today.
"You can stop by later for dessert if you want."
There was no anger in it. No shouting. Just a short message from my daughter, Melissa. She is a busy mother of two teenagers, balancing a demanding job and endless responsibilities.
But those words hit me harder than winter ice.
For decades, Christmas at our home was wild in the best way. Wrapping paper everywhere. Raymond carving a turkey that was always a little too dry. Kids running around. Laughter mixing with the smell of cinnamon.
I was the one who kept everything moving. I was the center of it all.
But time changes things. It takes away the noise. Then it takes away your purpose.
Raymond passed away. The kids grew up and moved away. The grandkids became teenagers who talk mostly through screens. My home became perfectly clean.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
This year, I waited for the holiday plans. Checking my phone again and again. Not just hoping to be invited, but hoping to feel needed.
Finally, I asked Melissa, "What time should I come on the twenty fifth? Do you want me to bring my holiday casserole?"
Three dots appeared. Then her reply came:
"Hi Mom! We are keeping the morning very simple. Just me, Tom, and the kids relaxing and opening gifts. We are really tired. But you can come later for dessert if you want! Maybe around four. No pressure!"
I sat in my kitchen with that message glowing on the screen.
Simple morning. Just us. If you want.
Sometimes in America, everything becomes about the small, tight family. The parents. The kids. And everyone else becomes extra. Even the people who raised you.
I felt like a second thought. Like a visitor.
But I typed back, "Sounds wonderful. See you at four."
Because that is what mothers do. We pretend we are fine because we do not want to be the parent who needs too much. We add exclamation marks to hide the hurt.
Christmas morning arrived. I woke up early out of habit. My hands remembered the feeling of hanging stockings. My body remembered the rush of preparing food.
But none of it was needed.
I made one cup of coffee. I watched the Parade on TV. I saw families waving signs saying "Hi Grandma."
I looked around my clean, quiet living room, filled with decorations no one would see, and tears rolled down my face.
I was not crying because I was alone. I cried because I felt optional.
Around noon, I could not handle the silence anymore. I put on my coat and went for a drive. I passed houses with crowded driveways. I saw grandmothers holding babies through glowing windows.
I realized something heartbreaking about growing old here: we trade community for independence, and end up with loneliness.
I stopped at a gas station just to hear another person speak. The cashier said, "Merry Christmas."
I almost hugged him. "Merry Christmas. I am seeing my grandkids later," I said, mostly to convince myself.
At four, I knocked on Melissa’s door.
Warm air and noise rushed out. Food cooking. A football game blaring.
"Grandma!" The kids looked up for one moment, then returned to their screens.
Melissa hugged me. "Mom, you made it! There are leftovers on the counter. Help yourself."
I smiled. I ate the cold turkey. I watched them laugh at jokes I did not understand.
I was there, but not really part of it.
I felt like a visitor in a life I once built.
Driving home on icy roads, the truth settled inside me. A hard truth, but one that needs to be said.
Being loved is not the same as being included.
My daughter loves me. I know she does. But she forgot that I am still a person who wants to belong. Not just someone to check on when needed.
So here is my message to younger families:
Your parents know you are busy. We know your life is stressful. We know you want simple holidays.
But we are disappearing a little each year. We lose friends. We lose energy. We lose our place in the world.
The only thing that keeps us connected is you.
When you say, "Come later," we hear, "You are not part of the whole day."
We do not need fancy gifts or perfect dinners.
We want the messy moments. We want to be there when the wrapping paper flies everywhere. We want the chaos because it reminds us we are still part of something.
So please, do not just squeeze us in. Do not put us between naps and errands.
Invite us early. Let us be there. Let us belong.
Because one day the house will be empty, and you will realize the greatest gift was not the presents.
It was the person sitting quietly on the couch, happy just to watch your life unfold.
Do not wait until we are gone to make us a priority.
Everyone can use A SHOULDER TO CRY ON... sometime. Take a listen to Alan Walker and Ava Max's ALONE Part 2.
Turkey Break beautiful Fall Day for the family to visit Pinnacle Mountain ... 8 years later, that little baby now has a brother, the couple on the end (2nd & 3rd row) married and has an 18-month-old little girl now, my nephew(top R) tied the knot, and my Natureman has left his earthly existence almost 5 years ago.
May we always cherish our memories together...
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MONDAY MUSINGS & tUESDAY tUNES: Combo today as when I heard this rendition of Bobby Darin's Beyond the Sea performed by these 'youngsters,' Pleasantly surprised and inspired to also share my joy of music being appreciated by different generations.
Recently, I was chastised by Evan, my son-in-law, for having attended the Maroon 5 concert with Adam Levine. Why would you go? Name some of their songs and I started listing them. (I'm not saying I didn't mess up titles as I also have my own lyrics for most songs) In fact, my niece and I practiced over and over homemade choreography to perform Sugar with female relatives for Evan and my daughter's wedding. His mouth dropped and he reluctantly admitted I knew more of Maroon 5's music than he did.
Well, it still fills my heart with joy hearing 'old' music ie Bobby Darin's Beyond the Sea performed by Young Original. I think you will enjoy it too, regardless of age. ]
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