Today is the first day...

There are many analogies for death. A candle extinguishing, a light flickering out, a bright burn to final darkness. And I’ve been thinking about this for the last few days — ever since Lady Lou’s dad died this past Saturday night. It’s brought back a lot for me because no matter the circumstances, losing a parent is always a bitter pill of deep sadness. And when you don’t have a lot of warning, the grief is especially dense. There’s not much sense of relief and of thinking they’re better off. You just want them to come back. Now. Because we weren’t done.

I’ve now watched 5 or 6 of my friends lose a dad (with mine dying somewhere in the middle of that). We’ve reached that age. And we don’t feel like we have. It seems too soon to be in that stage of life. But yet, here it is. Then, today, I pick up Time Magazine and this article is staring me in the face: The Light of Death (it resonated roundly). The whole idea of death causing you to look backward and a child’s birthday (or other myriad milestones in our offspring’s constantly evolving lives) creating a look forward struck a sweet chord. Especially today.

Miss 6 (now 7) is off at school. It’s her last day of 1st grade. I cranked the kid music in celebration this morning and felt the tears spring to my eyes as I watched her whirl and twirl. She’s a beautiful spirit and still so innocent. I want to wrap her up tight and keep her that way. But all she wants is to fly away. Get taller. Keep growing. “Next year, Mom, I’m gonna…” and so on. And so I turned to spy little Bean, watching her sister with an intensity that spoke volumes: “I’m ready to grow up NOW and be just like her.” Can a sappy, tired ole mommy catch a break in this town?

The ironic part of this whole melancholy bent is that as I sit on the front porch with these words gushing forth, a procession of parents are parading by to see their ‘babies’ graduate from middle school. But I think I have until at least tomorrow before I’m in their shoes.

So life progresses. Big news, huh? For over two weeks now, I’ve been trying to find the time to write and it just isn’t happening. The b-partner and I have a fun, new client that’s keeping us hopping while we get ramped up. There have been a hundred different end of school activities — including a visit from Time Magazine regarding the organic garden project I’m coordinating at Miss 6 (now 7)’s school. Social engagements out the wazoo. A garden to plant. Another meal to cook. Errand to run. Trip to plan. Yard to weed. Birthday gift to buy. Car to rent. Girlie clothes to switch out and inventory (summer’s comin’!). Yesterday, I could’ve written, but I seemed to have a fog filling in the cavity of my skull where my brain used to be. (Or something like that.) I felt like I could keel over at any second. And I was supposed to go to a surprise party for an old friend last night on top of it all. We’ve had something every night of this week and my brain just feels like it’s sending out smoke signals. SOS! So I bailed out on the birthday party and folded clothes — guilt-ridden but cerebrally content. (And yet I wonder why time seems to whoosh by in gusts.) I wonder.

Rock Star has been away, so we’ve had a couple of her friends filling in with the girls. It’s been long, luxurious days of childcare coverage while I move from phone call to phone call to HTML proof to outline to status report to invoice to bookkeeping to bill paying and back again — like a fluffy little rodent on a little metal wheel. These girls must think they’ve entered the insane asylum. With the pace of things around this joint. It kind of slaps you up-side the head when you see someone new to your life taking it all in with fresh eyes. “Wow. I really am a total nut job.”

One thing I will say for us — this hubby o’mine and me — we get it. And know when to say when on occasion. So this past weekend, we faced potential ire from our already weary-on-us-and-just-about-to-give-up-on-us friends and cancelled all plans. Begged off. And sat the long, three day weekend out. We sat on our butts, drank lattes and played with the girls. There was a 45-minute piano lesson (at our house), a date night at The Kitchen, a run to the grocery and a neighbor drop-in or so — but it was blissfully non-scheduled time. It rained and we watched two movies that have been resting on our TV for about three months now. Perfection is what it was. And a well overdue time of quietude.

Now I’m here on the porch. The sky is brilliant blue. My heart is a little saggy. But my life is good. We head out to visit family for two weeks on the 4th. A little beach time mixed with some southern comfort. Tonight we celebrate our bigger girlie’s milestone with some of the other moms. And then we’ll call it a day. (I can do this.) And I’m thinking that if I don’t find some meaning in watching Lady Lou lose her dad, Sourire lose her brother-in-law (and her dad a few years back), etc. — then I really do suck. Throw a biscuit at me and keep moving because I’m a lost cause.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Lost Cause. Beck. There's a place you are going. You ain't never been before. No one laughing at your back now. No one's standing at your door.