Sacred Energy

The following exchange took place in the season finale of "Marvel: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." It really spoke to me. I watched the episode twice and really paid attention to this scene both times. Spoiler alert if you haven't yet seen the episode!

Jemma Simmons: I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy in the universe is created and...

Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons: None is destroyed.

[Both smile]

Jemma Simmons: That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle will go on to be a part of something else; maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing - a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.

Leo Fitz: A monkey.

Jemma Simmons: [Smiles] A monkey. Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are. We gave them new life; a good one, I hope.

My journey through The Feminine Face of God continues. The chapter I'm currently reading is about the women's first encounters with the divine. There seem to be a few themes that remained constant throughout the interviews with all the women. The first is that most of the women described experiencing the sacred during their childhood, "whether it was felt in the body as an infusion of energy or light, or took the form of a dialogue with angels, the ability to see auras, or an experience in nature." Another theme is that these experiences rarely remained heightened throughout adolescence and adulthood. Often, the women's peers, parents, or inner self squelched the expression of the divine and they lost the ability to feel its presence, sometimes for decades.

My first experience with a sense of the divine occurred in my backyard during my childhood. Jumping on my trampoline was always a joyful experience. I miss the feeling of flipping around on the bouncy material; of the texture beneath my feet and hands, its smell on a hot day, the burn when I miscalculated a move and my skin slid across its surface... During summer days, I would set up the sprinkler and either jump over or right through the water arcs as they pulsed back and forth. But at night, I would experience a different deep sense of joy. I would lie on my back and watch the stars. I would see constellations, shooting stars, and planes. I remember the deep feeling of awe I experienced when I first really noticed that the world was moving. I had learned this fact in school, but it was another thing altogether to actually see it. It felt like an enormous privilege. As a child this felt miraculous. I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I felt incredibly small but not at all insignificant. On the contrary, I felt enormously excited to be a part of it. To this day, looking at the stars on a dark, clear night is still one of my absolutely favorite things to do. In fact, one of my best memories took place on the shore of Monkey River Belize when the small town where I was staying turned off its generator at night and the world became dark for 50-100 miles around. I would walk alone on the shore of this tiny island, lie in the sand by the lapping waves, and look up at more stars than seemed possible to see. It took my breath away and caused many shed tears simply because of the vastness of what I was seeing. Sometimes it breaks my heart to remember because the memory has faded and become more surreal over the years. But whenever I need to mentally travel away from a difficult or stressful situation, that is most definitely my happy place. 

As I read the various personal stories presented in The Feminine Face of God, I thought about the scene from S.H.I.E.L.D. shared above. It spoke to my inner truth. The stories also made me think about the overall "amount" of spirituality/soul/sacred energy able to be shared. If I accept the first law of thermodynamics - that no energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed - as true, and furthermore if I accept that this means that all energy within all living creatures comes from something else, then my mind goes wild with scenarios. These thoughts are all very raw and little developed, but I still wanted to share and process them. So here goes.

I imagine the universe to be so much larger than I can possibly imagine. However, if no energy is created, that means the amount of energy available is ultimately finite and has therefore been a part of something else before it becomes a part of our lives as walking, breathing, living people. This makes me think of the concept of reincarnation as well as Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The Over-Soul." I wish I was better versed in each of these concepts, but here is my rudimentary summary of each as I understand them.

Reincarnation is the belief that when one dies, one's life force, spirit, or soul becomes a part of a new living being. And my favorite description of Emerson's Over-Soul came from a guest speaker in my UU church. She described it as a large pitcher of "soul" or "spirit." She went on to say that as each person is born, a portion of this Over-Soul is used to fill the person. It becomes a part of them. Then, as one dies, it returns to the source to be used to fill another being. Both of these concepts seem to echo the first law of thermodynamics. They feel like deep truth to me. They also makes me think of those people who are described as "old souls." Are these people who are more aware of or in touch with their soul? And therefore more in touch with their past sacred selves? All this makes me wonder if my spiritual energy was once a part of a star and if that's why I'm so drawn to them.

It seems like there is a downshift in spirituality with each new generation of people. Is it possible to consider that with each new generation there is less sacred energy at the core of people because there's only so much to go around? As though the overall amount of spirituality is diluted as the earth becomes overloaded with people? But on the other hand, that's presuming quite a lot about the earth and its inhabitants which are, after all, only a very small speck in the grand scheme of the universe. Perhaps it's not about dilution as much as disconnection; disconnection from one's own sacred self. I do think that it's fair to say that people as a whole are spending less time in tune with nature, and therefore less time pondering and wondering about the sacred. I make this comparison because nature and sacredness are so intertwined to me.

In The Feminine Face of God, there is this paragraph:

"When we are children everything in our environment vibrates with aliveness. Plants and trees, insects and animals, pebbles and rocks, sky and sea have something to say to us, and we are not self-conscious about talking to them in return. In some elemental way we seem to know that to connect is to respond, and as children we respond to everything. Whether we are walking barefoot on cool grass, smelling the earth's fragrance as we lie on our belly tracking an insect, or catching raindrops on our tongue during a summer shower, we know that we are intimately related to the natural world and that there is a mystery at the heart of this intimacy."

I think we lose our sense of wonder and awe in the race to adulthood. Once there, perhaps we don't take the time to be still, look, smell, taste, and experience all that the natural world has to offer. Enough with this "we" talk. I'm going to speak for myself. I don't do these things. I don't stop as often I would like to amazed by what's around me. I do make an effort to appreciate the beauty of photos. But anyone who has ever visited the Grand Canyon will tell you, a photo will NEVER show the magnitude and incredibleness of the actual experience. There's nothing like engaging more than one sense at a time to really feel connected to the natural world!

Tomorrow I plan to make an effort toward this end. I'm going to spend the morning with a sister friend and her two young children - 5 and 3 years old. We're going to a park so I can capture photos of her children at a new age swinging on a swing set. This has become a tradition of ours over the last few years. Each year, we take swinging photos to show how her children have changed doing the same activity. But I also plan on trying to see the park through their childlike eyes; to notice things I might otherwise overlook and be happy and joyful in the moment. 

As I continue to read The Feminine Face of God, I feel as though something sacred is stretching out and making much needed room within me. It's as though my spirit self is filling me more fully, rolling her eyes good-naturedly that it took me this long, and yet feeling proud of my attempts nonetheless. The women in this book have not only described these childhood experiences and their suppression of them, they have also expressed a reconnection to their spirituality. This gives me hope. My spiritual muscles are weak. I spend so much time reaching out to my patients and families, trying to connect them with their definitions of the sacred that my own experiences have been quite vicarious for a while now. However, this book is changing that for me. It's on par with when I worked through Julia Cameron's The Artist Way several years ago. And for any of you who know me, you know that that is quite high praise!

A question I'm going to try to ponder and live out more often: What can I do today to nourish my spiritual self and sacred energy? Today it was spend time with family, read more of my book and write this post. Tomorrow, it will be deeply enjoying the park with my sister and her children and taking photos. The next day, who knows?!

Representing One's Religion and Faith

I was having a conversation with a dear friend the other night. She too is Unitarian Universalist. When she had just begun attending the local UU church here, it was at a time when she worked at a very mono-religious place. She didn't fit the primary religious culture there, but the topic of religion and faith came up often. She was put into the position of explaining and representing her faith. This was all as a very recent UU who was early on in her own personal faith within this religion! She was questioned about her faith, and not just on a personal level. She was asked to explain the entirety of the religion. That is a tough task for anyone! However, I think it's even more difficult to ask someone to play this role when they are not a part of the dominant faith culture.

Most UUs I know are expected to have an "elevator speech" prepared that describes our faith because it's not a part of common understanding. This is true even among UUs because our faith is so personalized. Our faith does not require absolutes and answers. It's more about a searching and seeking for what is authentic for oneself. It does not mean "everything goes." It means finding ways to promote love, understanding, and personal responsibility. I think it's a difficult enough task to try to find an authentic way to live out one's faith without feeling the need to explain and, in some cases, defend it. There seems to be a precarious balance between a personal journey and representing it. One is an internal and the other external.

I still have a difficult time identifying my faith and what drives me at times. And I'm still really not comfortable saying "I'm not a Christian" because there are so many ramifications regarding my life as a Chaplain. But my truth is that I do believe that Jesus, among other leaders, was a guru and sage. I think he was a wise man who challenged conventional wisdom, did not fit the norm or expected, and promoted love and acceptance. But I cannot find truth or a need to believe in the story of the resurrection. His life is enough for me. I find encouragement and hope in his story as well as in the stories of other religious, political, social and scientific leaders throughout the ages.

My husband made an interesting point one day that has stuck with me. He said he thinks he is "culturally, but not religiously, Christian." We, as a part of the US culture, partake in Christmas and, to a lesser extent, Easter because we were raised within that culture. Does it speak to us religiously? No. But do we still find meaning in some of the rituals, especially those that gather our families together? Yes. I compare it to a person who identifies as Jewish because it is a part of their cultural makeup, but not necessarily a part of their daily or weekly life.

This past Sunday, my church's minister said something I appreciated and agree with: the world is changing. The religious landscape of our country is also changing. And many religions are going to have a difficult time because they are based on ideas that are more or less fixed. But Unitarian Universalism was and is built on a foundation able to shift and change much like the buildings of California able to move safely during earthquakes. It's current and willing to shift. My hope is that it will continue to have foundations of love, hope, and peace.

The subjects in this blog are so difficult for me to share in such an open forum, especially the part about not being a Christian, that I don't plan on sharing in on Facebook as I have with my last couple of blog posts. But I'm grateful that I was open and honest in this post and am still hopeful that someone might read it and value it.

Womanhood and Moving Forward

As I was continuing my reading of The Feminine Face of God last night, I was struck by a couple passages I wanted to share here.

The first: "We had to ask, What is the face of God that can be revealed through women? We proposed to look for the answers to this question by studying the life stories of thirty women across North America who were recognized in their communities as sources of spiritual inspiration."

The question at the center of the authors' research is very interesting. What IS the face of God that can be revealed through women? I'm so curious about the results they found because they've alluded to similarities among the responses. I hope to connect with some of the feelings and thoughts that were shared. Their intention was to interview 30 women, but in the end they interviewed more than 100.

As for myself, my first thoughts are that my own spirituality and femininity is tied up with nature. I wonder if this has something to do with our menstrual cycles naturally lining up with the moon cycle? Very clearly, there is a connection and physical pull tied in with the rhythm of nature.

When reading that they were planning to interview women who were "recognized in their communities as sources of spiritual inspiration" I was brought up short. I work as a hospice and hospital chaplain everyday. But would I be considered a source of "spiritual inspiration" within the community? I just don't know. It made me realize that I would like to continue the steps within the Unitarian Universalist Association to be "fellowshipped," which is the process by which ministers in the UU Church are endorsed by the larger association. It's what ordination is in many other church organizations.

To have this support and endorsement would make me feel like a larger part of the faith tradition of which I've chosen to belong. It's the difference between being a Chaplain who is Unitarian Universalist and being a Unitarian Universalist Chaplain. The problem is, I have a difficult time trying to navigate the process that I'm coming at sideways. I wish I could have an advisor and guide as one does in college to help sort through the requirements of particular degree programs. But if I don't take any steps, I'll never get anywhere. So I've reached out to a couple of people regarding writing me letters to help me sidestep a part of the process which I'm hoping will be deemed unnecessary considering how many years I've been in ministry as a Chaplain.

The last set of thoughts I want to get out for this blog post is about my need to connect with feminism and my own personal womanhood. I'm pretty sure it has to do with my desire to become a mom and my uncertainty whether or not my life path will include that role. Do I believe that women can be wholly feminine without being a mother? Of course! But I find that this is an expression of womanhood of which I hope to be a part. In the meantime, I want to connect with what it means to be a woman without being a mother. I was born into this group and want to more fully embrace what that could mean. Moreover, I want to more intentionally become a part of the spirituality of womanhood. Which brings me to the other concept brought forth by The Feminine Face of God.

The authors explain that at the beginning of their time together trying to map out their research for the book, they "walked outside and sat down opposite each other under the protective branches of a large oak tree. And there we did something we were to do almost every day for the next several years of our collaboration. We closed our eyes, sat in silence, and waited." I don't always feel connected to myself and my spirituality in silence, but I do think it's worth making time to settle into to deep thinking, listening, and feeling of the sacred. And the idea of doing this with someone else seems worthy of the vulnerability and openness that would inevitably be required.

More thoughts to come!

Love and Connecting with Other Women

I belong to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Wilmington. Today in our church service, the Alto and Soprano voices of the choir offered "The Rose" as sung by Bette Midler. This is my parents' song and it was played during their wedding ceremony many years ago. Upon first listening to or reading the lyrics, it may not sound like something traditionally in the "our song" genre. It begins, "Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower and you it's only seed." My parents are each in their second marriage. Both had a very emotional and heart-wrenching break ups in their first marriages. But this September they will celebrate 32 years together. They snip at each other, they get frustrated at times, but ultimately they love one another and have stood by each other with love, faithfulness, and hope.

Some people experience a perversion of love. Something that drains them and tears them down rather than encourages and bolsters. I sincerely hope that all people, at some time or other, will be able to feel what it means to be loved deeply, authentically and wholly. And though this songs addresses the trenches of life, it also shows that love, in its most persistent nature, can withstand bitterness, anger, and cold. "...the seed, with the sun's love, in the Spring becomes the rose."

But what made this singing experience even more special was that it was sung by all women, myself among them. It began in unison and I think our voices blended together so well; it was light and ethereal. Then with each verse, harmony grew until three notes were weaving around one another. I personally was in the group singing the descant notes and I had a sense of floating above the melody. But even more than all this, our phrasing was beautifully together. Holding notes for the same length of time, gathering volume on crescendos, and breathing together as one. And it all felt so natural. I wonder if any of the other singers were as touched by our offering, because I felt so connected to each of them. It was a lovely and beautifying moment. I was so grateful to have been a part of it. And it helped me feel further connected with my womanhood, a theme of mine recently. I began The Feminine Face of God by Sherry Ruth Anderson and Patricia Hopkins this week. The overall intent of the book, as I understand at this time, is connecting with the feminine nature of spirituality as well as the feminine aspect of god. What about our spirituality is unique to us as woman and how can we grow and help one another have a deeper, more authentic relationship with our faith, spirituality, and life? I'm very interested in it and am even more encouraged to read it because one of my sister friends is reading it again for the second time. 

These experiences from this week and today made me want to process further in the way I only seem able to via blogging. So here I am, after yet another multiple month absence. We'll see what becomes of this, but hopefully I'll continue the book and will feel empowered to write and uncover more of my thoughts in this forum. 

What has been soul-nurturing for you this week?

Reminiscing on a Loss

The one year anniversary of my grandmother's death is approaching. I didn't realize it at first, but I think that explains the unexpected moments of weepiness I've been having this week. A year ago at this time, I was spending evenings and many days at a local nursing home, eating a lot of fast food dinners, crying and remembering with family and feeling the sadness of impending loss. I began 2013 with my grandma's death on the horizon. It was a difficult way to begin a year.

And yet, the year became one of hope, positive change, and possibilities. I'm hoping for a continuation of what's begun as 2014 rolls around.

But for tonight, I'd like to take a much needed moment and share some of my thoughts from a year ago at this time. I'm glad that I shared many of them on Facebook so I can look over them again now. So here are my previous and current thoughts.

"Some things worth mentioning: my grandma's health is failing quite dramatically. It's likely not long that she'll be with us. I'm having a difficult time processing the new year (newness, hope, openness, possibilities) with the inevitable loss of a loved one. I am still finding hope in my ever-present search for gratitude. I feel blessed being surrounded by family, sharing my life with my loving husband, when joining in laughter with friends, and receiving a kind and meaningful gift from a coworker. So far, a pensive 2013." Although this year clearly started out with difficulty, I'm thankful that I still made time for uncovering gratitude. I wish I had written down what the thoughtful gift was because I truly can't remember it. But I do remember feeling like care and compassion was coming at my family from all sides.

"Thank you all for your love and support. My grandma died peacefully earlier tonight. We feel very loved and cared for." I remember sharing this very soon after she died. I also remember that though I needed to share it with my friends, that it was too soon for some of my family to have everyone know. I became more conscious of sharing statuses that affected so many others.

"Wow. So many visitors and so much food at my mom's house. Wonderful to have so many loving and caring people in our world. Thank you!!" It was overwhelming. I'm a caregiver by career and my mom one by nature. We both had to step aside and allow ourselves to be loved, supported, and held up when we're used to doing that for others. Our helpless vulnerability became an opportunity to be recipients of love.

"On the night my grandma died, I sang old hymns to her. Then later my mom asked if I could say a prayer for her. She realized that a pastor had been out to visit with the family, but hadn't actually said a prayer with grandma. It was an emotional and touching moment to be able to pray for my grandma with my mom, my aunt, and my husband. She died less than an hour later. I will hold this as a treasured memory and I wanted to share it with my Facebook family." Of all my memories from a year ago, this is one of the most difficult for me to remember. It was so sacred; so beyond the mundane. It moves me to tears even now because it was a rare moment when all my "selves" combined. My Chaplain-self and my granddaughter/daughter/wife/niece-self joined to provide a spiritual need. I don't know if my grandma heard me singing to her. But my family did. And we held hands and cried together and felt deep feelings together. This is the moment I have been needing to remember, but it's also the one I've been dreading because of the depth of emotion stirred by remembering.

"Working on the draft for my grandma's service. Another way being a Hospice Chaplain has helped me. My brother and cousin are working on the words they want to read. I'm going to try to sing and read the letter to my grandma I wrote in my last blog. It'll be hard for all of us, but hopefully cathartic too." It was not my original intention to draft the service. But the process turned out to be very healing for me. And I did make it through both singing and speaking. I remember being much more nervous about the singing, because so many of my family members didn't even know I could sing. But in the end, speaking my own words was the much more trying task than singing those written by someone else. I remember having to take a moment, breathe through the knot in my throat, and continue on. After the service, I overheard one of my cousins talking on the phone to someone. He said the service was so sad! By his tone, however, he meant it as a compliment because he, and many others, thought that three of the grandchildren participating was very special. I think we would have made my grandma proud.

"We made it through my grandma's funeral service. It was beautiful and personal. So many family and friends gathered from all over the place! Thank you so much to everyone who came. You surrounded us all in love. Now we're spending time with family and enjoying great memories and yummy food." The same week as my grandma's service, I attended the funeral of a Roman Catholic patient of mine. My patient's service was almost entirely scripted from a Roman Catholic worship book. I think it was meaningful for the family, but the five minutes or so spent actually talking about the patient didn't feel like enough for me. I'm proud of the approach and time given to my grandma's service. It was certainly what we needed it to be.

"Thank you everyone for all the love and support. And especially thank you to Kody Kinsley, Kt Cassady, Robin Buzzeo, and Tracy Hawkins for the texts and calls. It's been wonderful to feel so loved." And I certainly did feel loved every day. I have some of the most wonderful friends ever. It's a gift to have them and another gift to be so aware of how deeply blessed I am. It's also wonderful that these friends are enduring souls in my life. They, along with Dan, have been sources of inspiration, laughter, support, silliness, and hope.

"I find that 'firsts' after someone dies are significant and sad. Even though it's been several weeks, I'm still seeing some people for the first time since my grandma died. They ask about her, I share, then I have to shed some tears to recover from another 'first.'" This post was brought on by someone at my work. We work for the same company, but not very closely. We ran into each other in the office and she very kindly asked, "How's your grandma?" It was at a time when I finally thought everyone knew she had died, so the question knocked the wind out of me and brought me up short for a moment. I had to go back to my desk and cry for a bit until I was able to temper my emotions.

"Making my grandma's soup tonight. Turns out my mom had the same idea and she made it tonight too!" We were surprised when we did this! I felt connected to my mom that we both thought to honor her mom the same night in the same way.

Here are some other ways my grandma was honored and remembered:

Right after Christmas, and right before grandma died, I printed a copy of the group photo of our family on my grandma's 87th birthday. I didn't know at the time quite how soon she was going to die, so these photos became extra special and well-timed.

My mom and I shared a special day together celebrating Mother's Day - her first since her mom died. We got dressed up and went to the Wilmington Tea Room. Without planning ahead, we wore our matching dogwood necklaces. Hers belonged to her mom. I found mine in the NC mountains very likely made by the same designer. Now, when we get together for mother-daughter dates, we often wear them.

Most recently, I made special ornaments for Christmas for my mom and aunt. Below are photos of my mom and aunt opening their gift and then a closer photo of the ornaments themselves.

We've made it through many firsts this year. I'm hopeful about 2014. And I'm grateful for all the love I have in my life. If you've made it to the end of my blog, thank you so much for sticking with me. Please feel free to leave me comments and thoughts.

With love,

Kelley

Haikus

Outside of an assignment once or twice in school, I've never written many haikus. But recently, I decided to attempt this form of creative outlet. Here were the results.

"Training"
What am I doing here?
None of this pertains to me.
What a waste of time.

"Fall"
Fall leaves swimming 'round.
Swirling, wooshing, floating down.
Autumn ecstasy.

"Kitties"
Whiskers brush my cheek.
Cuddly, purring ball of fluff.
Warm, feline snuggles.

"Motherhood"
Pervasive envy.
Aching maternal longing.
Morose pit of pain.

I realize the last poem is rather dark and sad. But it felt healing and cathartic to get the feelings out.

Peace,
Kelley

Death and Dying

I think this might be a rambling post. I need a place to sort through the jumbled mess that are my thoughts. It may be blunt. It may be raw. But I hope to benefit from time on here typing. So here it is.

My grandma is dying.

She has dramatically lost weight. Her skin hangs off of her. Physically, she is a fraction of the woman she once was. The past couple of weeks have been heart-wrenching. I have burst into tears more times than I can count. I have been deeply sad over her imminent death and maddeningly angry over logistical hoops we've faced as a family to get our preferred care for her.

An incalculable blessing is that my own hospice team has been able to step in and care for my grandma. Some of the aforementioned logistical nightmares made this seem impossible at first, but in the end, the people I work with every day are taking care of my grandma as if she was one their own loved ones. The work that I have given my life to at the moment has reached out and compassionately touched my own family at a time of great emotional vulnerability. We do this for other families. Now we're doing it for mine.

This afternoon, my grandmother's breathing changed. It had become even more shallow and it seemed that her dying was going to happen within a matter of hours. All my family gathered in her room: her two daughters, their spouses, my brother, my cousin, my husband and me. I called my boss in tears and gave her an update. She informed my grandma's nurse who came out to visit, check in, and give us her opinion (to take with a grain of salt). She thinks my grandma may die by tonight or tomorrow.

At this point, I think most, if not all, of my family will see this at a good thing. My grandma's Alzheimer's has been so advanced that she's not been able to really *live* in quite some time. But now, her life has been reduced to gathering breaths in each moment. She can't engage with us. She can't speak. She can't process that we're there. But she's peaceful and comfortable.

I learned tonight that on this day, twenty years ago, my grandma's mom died on 1/3/93. I think it would be significant and meaningful if she died on 1/3/13. I don't want her to die quicker because of this, but I still think it would be serendipitous if it happened.

Because of everything that's going on, I've been so tired and drained lately. I feel sleepy most of the day, but have trouble falling asleep, then have a restless night. I think sheer exhaustion will win out soon and force my body to rest. But I don't see that happening tonight because I fully expect to be called in the middle of the night learning that she's died. My mom and aunt are staying with her. 

I have been very grateful to be involved and help where I can. Whether it's picking up food to bring out to the nursing facility, passing tissues to people who need it, hugging family members, or updating family and friends. A particularly poignant moment for me was when Dan and I went to Belks to help pick out the clothes my grandmother will be buried in. When I asked my mom if any thought had been given to that, she said "Grandma always said she wanted to be warm." We supposed she meant "dressed warmly" and my mom had thought of getting a warm nightgown and robe. I offered to search the stores for an outfit. My mom gratefully took me up on the offer. Due to the Christmas shopping season, finding a set that actually matched was more difficult than anticipated, but in the end Dan, my mom, my aunt, and I were able to find a very lovely pajama and robe combination that we all thought was perfect. The outfit was completed with a matching set of silky panties and warm fuzzy socks.

I know it may seem like too much information to mention the silky panties, but let me elaborate as to why I did. Short explanation: "Gilmore Girls." Longer explanation: One of the main characters, Lorelei, has taken over planning her grandmother's elaborate funeral service and, just when she thinks she's got it all planned out, she realizes she's forgotten to buy underwear for her grandmother. She rushes out to a store and has a wild meltdown with a saleslady. That scene was in my mind when we were shopping and, before I had said anything, Dan commented, "This reminds me of 'Gilmore Girls.'"

It's also been a strange thing to bring in the new year when my grandmother will likely die soon. I typically associate new years with hopefulness, promise, and untapped potential. The end of a year seems a more natural time for death to me, though I am fully aware that death has no set schedule. Still, it's been a sad and pensive new year so far.

Also mixed in with all my other emotions is a sense of sadness because my dear cousin is not here to say goodbye. She moved to Florida within the last several months and hasn't been able to be present when our family has gathered together in the midst of our common loss.

Another thought I've been having is about endings and "lasts." When a new child is born, their world is tumbling over with "firsts." First smile, first laugh, first bath, first crawl, etc. But as I've sat with my grandmother, I've been realizing that I am a witness to her "lasts." Perhaps the last bath she'll be lovingly given by one of our hospice aides. Maybe her last smile. Her last time opening her eyes. The last time she says anything. Maybe even her last breath. There's such a finality to it all.

I keep imagining her at different stages in her life. This has been spurred on even more because of the stories being told by my family members. I imagine her as a school child in class, with her friends, and playing. I think of her as a young wife married to my grandfather. I picture them as new parents, then as parents to girls of different ages. I've been hearing stories about her mothering style, things she said and did. I'm learning about personality traits I didn't get to know and experience for myself. I imagine her as a quietly strong women of great sweetness and hospitality; as a faithful mother, sister, daughter, wife, cousin, and friend. She has loved and laughed. She has made a family. She is my last grandparent in my adopted family. With her death, I feel like my parents are much more exposed. I told Dan today, "If I'm this sad about my grandma, how am I ever going to get through my parents' deaths one day?"

But I think I know the "how." I will get through because I have people that love me. People who are there for me and show me kindness and compassion. I will get through because I have loved my parents and been through so much with them. Just like I will survive my grandmother dying. And hopefully my parents and I will have many more years of memories to make yet.

Within the last year, when my grandmother could still talk to us (though she had already forgotten the grandchildren generation) my church choir went to sing at my grandmother's assisted living facility. At one point, my grandma was watching me sing and she leaned over and said something to my mom, which promptly made her cry. My intuition was correct. My grandmother had remarked, "I want that girl to sing at my funeral." She no longer remembered me, but my singing stood out to her in a way that made her want me to sing for her in the service honoring her life. And I do hope to be able to, though I'm worried I won't be able to make it through. But it will be okay if I have to submit to tears before being able to finish singing. I'm not sure yet what I might sing, but I think it will be one of the old hymns my grandmother loved.

Though she can't hear me when I've said these next things to her, I feel like ending this by typing her a message.

Dear Grandma,

I love you very much. We all do. You have always loved me just the same as the other grandchildren, even though I came into the family differently. Thank you for never making me feel less important than them. I will always remember your fairness, your sweet Henderson accent, your smile and your laugh; smelling your amazing vegetable beef soup when we'd arrive for a visit; getting to go into the formal sitting room when someone rang your front doorbell! Playing in your basement and backyard; going to family reunions with you, getting rides to dance from you; knowing that you were a wonderful mother because of the two beautiful, loving and compassionate daughters you've raised. Thank you for being such a foundational person in our family. We will miss you so much. I hope you find granddaddy and great mama and that you can all be together again.

Love always,
Kelley