Love in Laughter and Tears

Our hearts don't really break, but sometimes it feels like it. And if often happens at the most peculiar times. For me, it happened just this past weekend.

Saturday was my darling grandson's second birthday and a time for great joy as our family gathered to celebrate. Several of his toddler friends attended the party and added to the fun. For hours we heard giggles, belly laughs and the occasional joyful shriek as the children played and the smiling adults mingled, ate good food and watched the fun.

It was as glorious as a two-year-old party could be.

While I was there, I was totally caught up in the excitement, but in the day's quiet times, my heart was heavy. Earlier in the week, a "kid" from our old neighborhood had died. And I heard the bubbly blonde cheerleader who graduated from high school with me had died as well. The morning of the party, I learned a beautiful young mother I knew through our Course in Miracles on line group had succumbed to cancer. 

Laying in my bed that night I my heart was full of joy thinking of the life ahead for my beloved grandson and at the same time, I felt such sadness for the lives that had ended. It was a weird feeling. And I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

As I allowed myself to feel the sadness, I decided not to judge the recent deaths as "right" or "wrong." As best I could, I abandoned the idea that these departures were "too soon" or "unfair." I decided to relax into the only thing that was true, eternal and real. I relaxed into love.

I imagined those souls who had passed and all who knew them surrounded by love, which to me looks like an effervescent pink and white glistening mist. I blessed them all and silently honored their life journey. I prayed that the families found the comfort they needed in this time of grief and I thanked each soul for being part of our shared experience.

I also remembered to relax into the love that was filling my heart thanks to my grandson. Grateful tears filled my eyes as I thought of the joy and new energy he had brought to our entire family and the happy years I expected to come.

Right before sleep, I remembered that love is ever present in the laughter of toddlers and the tears of the grieving. It’s the current that runs through life and helps each of us no matter what step we are on our journey.

It's Gonna Be a Wet Christmas...

One recent Friday evening my husband and I went to the annual Christmas Parade on Main Street. It had been several years and I had forgotten how magical it was. 

We were huddled against the cold with hundreds of others in our small Virginia town as we watched elves dance down the street, enjoyed holiday classics performed by the high school marching band, saw decked out fire engines, smiled at the creative local business floats and laughed when we saw live goats dressed like reindeer.

I love living in a small town.

I began to reminisce about other times spent on this very street. In my mind’s eye, I saw my father, dressed in his best long black wool coat, walking down Main Street as he stopped to laugh and talk to everyone he knew during a Christmas parade long ago. It took a while…he knew everyone. My eyes started to tear up at the memory.

My husband looked at me and said, “You OK?” 

“Daddy,” I answered softly. 

“Oh,” he said. Since my dad’s death three years ago, he’d become accustomed to my “watery eyes” when I think of my dad.

As I looked down the street, I saw a grandmother helping her daughter juggle a toddler, bulky stroller, hot chocolate and an armful of packages and my eyes started to water again. I remembered the hundreds of times my mom had been with my kids and me for spring festivals, Halloween parades and our then weekly trips to church all on this very street. 

“Oh no,” my husband sighed as he glanced at me again.

But he misunderstood.

I wasn’t sad. 

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. 

Gratitude for the memories of growing up and raising my family in this precious little town. Thankful that my parents and siblings were active participants in the lives of my children. Grateful for the holidays spent together, in good times and bad, as an extended family. 

Waves of gratitude flowed over me as decades of memories flooded my mind. And then a new thought emerged. A new realization.

Next year, it would start all over again. 

At that exact moment, a tiny head peeked over the shoulder of the man standing in front of us on the street. I was staring into the eyes of a beautiful baby and could instantly see the pure innocence and immense wisdom in this tiny little being.

My own daughter is pregnant with our first grandchild, due early next year. 

Next Christmas, family traditions will begin anew. 

I was again overwhelmed with gratitude as I imagined my perfect grandson, little Emory, cuddled in my arms as I introduced him to our Main Street Christmas Parade. I thought of all the wonderful memories yet to come. My eyes watered again, my chin began to quiver and tears spill down my cheeks. Just then my poor husband looked my way.

“When are you going to stop crying?” he asked gently.

“No time soon…” I answered.