God's Eyes

The eighty per cent rise in my air fare grounded me and forced non-attendance at my father's memorial. So free of appointments, I watched videos of news.

The ambulance stopped outside the Rehabilitation Center and quickly became surrounded with intense activity as the congresswoman was admitted. Despite her access to such good care, I think of her family and friends who are physically and/or emotionally her best care-givers, May they find strength as they comfort, cajole and encourage her. May they always be cushioned by hope and faith in the long hard days and longer nights ahead.
But there were other images flitting across my screen today. Egypt with names like Cario and Alexandria, part of the ancient world; yet still mysterious. Its pyramids are on my bucket list. The crowds in the streets reminded me of Tehran decades ago.


Two very different incidents but both examples of how quickly our world be it personal or national can change without our consent or input. What a difference a month can make!
Life seemed so whimsical as I observed people struggling with multiple tragedies. I've even sulked at God on their behalf or tried to become more devout so that he might spare me. I felt that God was just waiting for me to mess up enough and then He would throw the thunderbolts. Apollo and Zeus probably tainted my view of God because I really forgot that as far as the east is from the west, so is His ways from us! I often confused the swings and slings of life with divine intentions.

Now, I'm still affected by the pain and loss in the world but I try to use a sad or dreadful event as an opportunity to be grateful. When I hear of difficulties, know of someone my age or younger who is very ill or has died, I see God's grace to me. Each new day births its own praise because the God who eyes the sparrow also has His eye on me.

Three hundred and sixty five days

Yesterday has gone since twenty four minutes ago. I returned home twice on my way to work for my phone and credit cards that I did not find. I phoned my assistant and asked Do I have to come to work today or can I work from home? She reminded me of a meeting at 1 , some training at 5.30p.m so I knew that meant that it was business as usual. For an anxious hour I searched for the missing cards before finding them in a very safe location.

It seemed an ordinary day and yet, a year ago, my heart was overwhelmed with grief which shattered my life. So I shared the night with the sleepless; the endless tears, silent and uncomforting. I recall brief moments of respite as "Let it be" echoed in my head. It was such a surprise that this poignant lyric helped in a way the great hymns I love did not.

There is an" insanity" in loss. One day , I could not stop the tears because my dad lay buried under a heavy snow storm. When the brilliance of spring sunshine made me want to dance, I began to sob because, it was a day he could not enjoy. I even thought how unkind parents were to die before their children. I knew I was irrational but I cried anyway. While the tears drenched my spirit, and apathy threatened to cripple , life continued to demand its celebrations: anniversaries, birthdays and ceremonial events. Each of these was a guidepost. Each pointed the way to a different place. Pain is part of the human experience. It often signals growth. It usually spells change as we adjust and adapt.

I am more mindful of my father than when he was alive. His thoughts live in my head as he urges me to live my best life. Decades ago, he told me that I was brave, In the aftermath of his passing, for weeks I hid under the bed . However, I have had a good year without him and knowing how much I loved him, I am sure, he's cheering my achievement. I take him in my future, not as a sentimental talisman but rather as a reflection of his values and beliefs. I know that there is no night in heaven and a thousand days are but one but I hope that there are anniversaries there and that he had a great time. We'll meet again.

Grieflands

It is January 13th, the birthday of my oldest brother. This year, he has achieved a significant milestone as well as he has become the senior male member of our family. So on Saturday, we had an early celebration. As a teenager, he helped our dad on his eighteen seater boat. Dad rewarded him and us by giving us the boat to go on picnics along the river. My mother fretted that folk would be very critical if there was an accident. My father declared that my brother loved the boat as much as he did and would act responsibly. My brother never let him down. To remind him of those days, his birthday cake was crowned with a jaunty boat and the name "Pomeroon Pilgrim" was etched in blue on its side. Everyone enjoyed themselves and no one wished that Dad was there. Another milestone was successfully passed across the track of grief.

The Christmas tree was decorated early but in my forced attempt at normality , too much emotional energy was expended. The boxes of cards I had bought were opened but week after week remained unwritten. My annual family letter stayed on the to do list as I tried to make sense of my internal voices. Some asked me to go easy on myself. After all, I have lost the most cherished person in my life. Healing takes time. Other voices urge me not to be self-indulgent with the ceaseless reminders that I have so much for which to be thankful. "Though much is taken , much remain" is still as true as when first written. Despite my father's loss, I am grateful for the good things in my life and I'm deeply thankful for the time I was blessed just being his daughter. After Christmas 2009, my brother-in-law cried (to his wife's annoyance as she did not want to cry too) when dad left because he felt that that would be his last holiday with him. We all coped with anticipatory grief according to our temperament as the shadow of death inched ever closer. Then death arrived!

December, 2010,we enjoyed a Christmas Eve meal with invited friends. Christmas night all my sisters and their families with my mother slept under one roof. At 1.20 am on December 26th, we celebrated surviving our first Christmas with sighs of relief. Another milestone had passed and over the three days , we adapted and adjusted to a world without our dad. Going through the motions has brought me to a different stage of my journey; further along than if I had stayed in the paralysis of grief. Sometimes, it is hard to even do that but it is always worth the effort. My brother's party was a big effort but it signaled that I can look beyond myself and I know that one day, my journey across Griefland would be over because the God who gives us new, clean hearts can repair broken ones.