Grief changes, but love remains. Each year, my daughter and I honor my late husband, George, with a meaningful adventure—traveling to places he would have loved and creating new memories in his honor. From the mountains of Colorado to the beaches of the Cayman Islands, our tribute has become a cherished tradition of remembrance, healing, and celebration. Here’s how we turned loss into an annual journey of love.
“Joy is the simplest form of gratitude” Karl Barth
This time of year, we’re bombarded with the concept of thanksgiving. The word can be found everywhere from scripted print on paper plates to decorative wall hangings. As the month of November marches on, grocery stores experience tidal waves of frantic shoppers, carts full of traditional food-fixings including, of course, the loved frozen solid turkey. Home cooks new at the Thanksgiving meal game have a certain terror in their eyes. The promise made to never volunteer to host the holiday again can be detected as if tattooed across a forehead. I speak from experience, some Thanksgivings the thing I’m most thankful for is not what I’m proud to share. My secret gratitude is that: the cooking is done, the meal is over, dishes are done, and everyone has gone home!
I’m taking an on-line class. I’ve taken them before and have finally managed to maneuver my way through the online class components of Blackboard and submitting my homework. My daughter, a professor at the university level teaches online courses is proud of my success. Me too.
This time I’ve got myself taking a class from Gotham Writers School. There is an in-seat program where students meet at the school located in NYC. They offer all kinds of writing courses from Playwriting to Novels. They also have a large selection of online classes.
My course is called, Food Writing.
I was heading home. My travels took me from a small airport to a larger hub, then a flight to my city. I was mentally prepared for a whole day of travel which included a two hour time change, where I was on the losing side. I’ve flown this route before, so I was not expecting any surprises. My only wish was to avoid chatty seat mates so I could relax and read.
It was time to board, and I proceed down the tiny aisle to discover row 22, a rear of the plane, aisle seat. It was a single, only one seat, so happily I buckled up, no other seat next to me. Across the small aisle were to be the other passengers of row 22, seats for two. We would be taking off shortly, as most all passengers were seated and ready to go.
I didn’t see the women come down the aisle, but noticed she seemed to make a crash landing into her seat directly across from me, at row 22. What happened next was shocking.
Last month I entered a club I’ve been waiting to get passage into for years. I have many friends who are members in good standing, some, many times over. I’m a freshman of only 4 weeks and it’s been glorious.
I’ve become a grandma. It’s as splendid as all those who have taken this role before me say it is. There is something too magnificent for words to watch a new life come into this world. With amazement the doctor announced, “I see a head!” and the next thing, a little tiny 5 pound baby girl slipped into her arms. What a joy unspeakable.
That's the day we’re celebrating the release of the audiobook version of my book, Hello Nobody: Standing at the Door Alone - What to Do When Everything Changes.
The Kindle version will be FREE for the first 3 days! If you’re willing to download the FREE Kindle version (or purchase the paperback), I’ll need folks to leave honest reviews of the book on Audible or on Amazon, whichever is easiest for you.
“Remember that lovely evening surrounded by friends at home, maybe with a glass or cup of tea and baked goods on the table. There were candles, the rain was beating on the window outside. There was laughter, conversation, and a feeling of comfort…you were present in the moment together. There was no before or after that mattered. That’s hygge.”
~ Unknown
