GRIEVING

 I haven’t been moved to tears in a while, but it happened to me today after fighting against a system that I know well, but even still, I had to talk to three different people and insist on the third person who was the supervisor in order to get an appointment that I was patronizing by the person that I could only have one problem to discuss. She was the best of them, having introduced herself (although I had to ask twice), and her merit was mostly in not cutting off the conversation and seeing reason to finally book an appointment instead of the circles of hell I had already travelled (online, by phone) previously to know that my attachment to this doctor who was not practicing and now moving (but had not yet transferred me, the patient). 

I woke up feeling surprised by the sensation of being on the positive side of emotions. I was even feeling content.

I hung up with confirmation of an appointment and bloodwork requested last November that I hadn’t been able to print out in the 24hours before it disappeared and I forgot about.

The inbox was, in order, a confirmation of the clinic appointment (this is a good system not often seen in hospital), the asked for request for labs, and my city’s hydro bill.

In my lap, at the time that the 43 minute wait for the appointment request, was a pile of ballet playbills in order of date with tickets that had been previously annotated with the company that I invited. I realized that I was having trouble recycling them because I the company that I kept no longer cared to accompany me. Mostly, I was sad that the days with my daughter appreciating the ballet with me were over many years ago.

All of these things aggrieved me, but the most innocent of them all raised the most recent grief. My neighbour, Lillian, died suddenly, and too soon, at the age of 88. The days that preceded her death were busy ones, full of preparation for her move closer to her daughter. She had things organized for the new owners with information from the last 30 years in an accordion folder for them. Every day we went to the mailbox to get the last remaining detail. The water tax couldn’t be confirmed, and she would have loved to have that bill in hand to close the deal.

So today I grieve a great lady, a wonderful friend, and terrible losses. RIP.

May I find a peace with my life lived and give myself what I need now instead of worrying about the future. 

May I find peace with the possibility that the silence of friends and my precious Princess Pirate is not intentional, and that I am not deserving this imposed isolation, but only meant to bear it, and move forward. 

May I remember those around me that make my life larger and better in community, and enjoy the silence and reflection and freedom within my aloneness. It is not all lonely, and even when it is, my grief reminds me a good life lived before.