Winter Sucks

I'm suffering from too much winter. After a morning of much weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth and beating of breast, I stopped to wonder what did I do last year at this time? How did I get through the long, cold, grey days? What did I write in my little web that wasn't complaint? (That's part of my mandate for my little web, although I admit I don't always pay attention to my own rules.) Anyway, I scrolled back and read what I had written last January. I wrote more frequently than I've done this year for this month, and I made valiant efforts to express only good and happy thoughts. I'm pleased to report that reading what I wrote actually made me feel better. My efforts to write pithy little bits of cheer in the midst of gloom seems to have worked for at least one reader - me. Who knew?
I'm really glad I have this little space to come to when I feel like this. I don't care that it may be the most unfollowed, unread little web on the Web. I like it because it's mine and it makes me feel good. As near as I can tell there's nothing wrong or politically incorrect or environmentally unfriendly about that. So I can write any damn bit of drivel on this thing and it doesn't hurt anyone, including me. It's too inconsequential to embarrass or humiliate me, and I'm pretty sure it won't come back to haunt me years from now, even though now that it's here it's basically "out there" forever. No, I can't think of any reason to regret writing this particular bit of fluff.
Well, mission accomplished. Twenty minutes ago I felt as grey as the weather. Now I feel better. I've been silly and I like it. And finding a pretty picture of daffodils helped, too. I picked them especially to cheer myself up, and anyone who passed by this way. So enjoy, and think spring.
- G.P.

For Daddy

My father died a month ago today - on December 9th, probably while I was writing the previous entry. It was sudden and unexpected. He was very old, but not depressed, despite the ailments of old age. I didn't have a chance to say good-bye to him, and that's just as well, because he hadn't been bedridden or incapacitated with terminal illness, which is usually the sad situation in which formal farewells are made to loved ones who die. In fact, I had spoken to Dad only days before and had arranged to visit him the following week.

Dad had a long, good life - full of blessings, as well as his share of loss. But this isn't a eulogy. This blurb is as much about me as him.

My relationship with Dad had the typical ups and downs that two very different people in the same family will have. Nothing unusual about that. Thankfully, the last couple of years were "up." We had forgiven each other whatever petty little concerns or differences were between us, and I enjoyed spending time with him in the end. Nevertheless, I was surprised at the depth of my sense of loss when Dad died, and even more surprised by what I gained.

I've spent the last month loving my father more deliberately, more consciously, than I ever did when he was alive, and I'm deeply grateful. I've had tearful little spells of sadness, of course, but they're passing. Now I enjoy sweet, loving moments remembering Dad. I don't spend any time wishing that I could have felt this way when he was still around. He's gone and there's no point in regretting what's over and can't be changed. Besides, I like feeling this happy-kind-of-sad love I've discovered for my father now that he's passed. I feel wistful and soft, and I like that.
I suppose all this sounds as if Dad had to die for me to feel this way. Maybe he did, but I don't think that's such a bad thing. His passing was sad, but not tragic, and he left me with a tenderness in my soul I never knew was there. I don't feel as if I've lost the love of my father now that he`s gone. I've finally started to appreciate it, and I thank him for it daily.
I guess it's true what they say, that death is not the end of love. So thanks, Daddy. Now that you're gone, I miss you, but loving you is oh so sweet.
Blessed be.
- G.P.