Love, Loss and Learning to Lose Expectations

Love and Loss

Anticipation, not expectation

“Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance.” – Buddha

We are in the midst of the holiday season, or what I am beginning to now name the “expectation season.”

I often wonder why the holiday season dredges up so much pain. Do we often mask that pain with planning the “perfect Christmas,” or whatever festive day is celebrated?

Going into Thanksgiving week, my first twinge of pain began with acknowledging the losses I have experienced. Thoughts of, “It’s not going to the same without __________ (insert name here).” It sure seems that losses are felt are so profoundly this time of year.

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Love, Loss, and Learning the Benefits of Witnessed Grief

Love, Loss, and Learning the Benefits of Witnessed Grief

love, loss and life lessons

 

It is no surprise that around the holidays, feelings of grief can kick into high gear. With the pressure of creating the “perfect” holiday, stuffing our feelings seems to be easier than dealing with them. Thankfully, the term, “Blue Christmas,” is being acknowledged, and several places of worship offer services and assistance because, well, it’s “a thing.”

Additionally, it’s no surprise that the longer we push uncomfortable feelings down, the more difficult they are to deal with, as they have a tendency to keep trying to be acknowledged.

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Love, Loss and Leaning into Letting Go

Love, Loss and Leaning into Letting Go

grief

“Holiday host etiquette: If you’re inviting someone to your home and they’re grieving, be sure you’re inviting their grief to attend, too. It will be there, anyway.” Sarah Nannen

Last week, one of my nieces shared a post by Sarah Nannen, author of Grief Unveiled. Her post on grief and the holidays really resonated with me and touched my heart.

There are so many expectations around the holidays, and to be honest, I started to think there was something wrong with me.

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Reflections on July 4th

I skipped our neighboring town’s Fourth of July parade this morning. It isn’t quite the same since my children are older and aren’t real concerned about collecting the candy loot along the parade route. Instead, I enjoyed the quiet of the morning along with a cup of coffee.

The air was already humid and hot as I placed the our flag in the holder. Of course, like every minute of every day, I thought of my dad while I adjusted the flag. He was such a patriot – he put the flag out everyday. When we surprised him with an awesome flag pole one year, complete with a light so he could leave the flag up at night, you wouldn’t believe the smile. His entire face lit up, and he tended to that flag faithfully. The landscaping and lighting were always perfect. He’d have it no other way.

We used to have a blast – pun intended – on the Fourth of July. When we were young kids, we would go to my dad’s brother’s house for the day. It was great: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, awesome food, sparklers. In the evening, we’d sit at the foot of my uncle’s driveway and watch the fireworks. The smell of barbecued burgers, fireworks and cigar smoked enveloped us.

If there was a ball game on, you can bet it was being listened to, with an adjustment to an antenna to reduce the static. And you can safely bet my dad, uncle and grandfather would gripe about what the Detroit Tigers were doing – or not doing – that particular season. Words were peppered with expletives, making us kids laugh and our mothers blush.

As time went on, the trees in the park grew, and we lost our vantage point view at my uncle’s house. We moved the event to the park, and as us kids grew older, we went our own separate ways with our own friends. Eventually, there were weddings, moves across town and across the country. The passing of time and relatives changed the face of the Fourth of July.

When my little (at the time!) family moved back “home” after our military moves, we started our own tradition of attending parades and fireworks. Our town sponsored both, and so our house became like my uncle’s: filled with relatives, kids running, barbecue and water balloons. All day long, our house had continuous movement, anticipating the fireworks at night.

With each flag I see today, I’ll think of my dad the patriot. He loved the military, for which he was not called to serve.  I often imagine that if he could have gone to basic training, he would be the guy who was super buff because he’d have done thousands of push-ups due to smart-aleck remarks made to his drill sergeant. As fiercely protective he was of his family, I bet he would have been an outstanding non-commissioned officer. His guys would come first – I know that in my heart.

Of course, he’ll be missed this evening when we toss the burgers on the grill. We’ll laugh about the year my dad ran off like a bat out of hell to correct an ignorant punk who  stupidly threw a firecracker towards my young children as we walked home from the fireworks. Boy, did that guy mess with the wrong family 🙂

Dad, enjoy viewing the fireworks tonight from your new vantage point. I bet it will be awesome.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb

Making time to smell the flowers

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them. – A.A. Milne

Reading my dear friend and mentor’s blog the other day made me sit and reflect on Mother’s Day and flower giving. Cindy’s blog, (found on my BlogRoll and here: www.laferle.com), was a simple post and a photo of the flowers she received from her son and soon-to-be-daughter-in-law.

My Mother’s Day arrangements have evolved as my children have grown older. I, too, received flowers. My youngest son gave me a beautiful hanging basket, and it touched my heart in so many ways. My husband had a rose, freshly cut from our yard, sitting in a vase next to my coffee and newspaper.
I believe my first experience in receiving flowers was from my dad. He never forgot to give my mom flowers on their anniversary and other special days. Every once in a while, he would surprise my sister and I with flowers on Valentine’s Day.

My husband does the same – he never forgets special dates and likes to surprise me with  bouquets. Every year on Valentine’s, he gets roses for our daughters, daughter-in-law, and our granddaughters. He also brought me the most beautiful flowers for the birth of each of our four children.

To me, no bouquet is sweeter than the handful of dandelions, picked with love by the chubby fingers of a toddler. Who smiles more, the giver? Or the receiver?

I still chuckle at the memory of my oldest son, who was about eight or nine-years-old, bringing me some of the most gorgeous hand-picked bouquets I had ever received from a child… until a neighbor (or was it his older sister?) alerted me that the flowers were coming from the garden of the dentist’s office down the street.

There is such beauty in seeing flowers in bloom. There is such a beauty in receiving flowers given with love, too.  The beauty of the flower compels us to pay it forward by sharing them with others.

When God created these living works of art, I am sure He knew they would touch more than our senses.

He knew they would touch our hearts.

Who smiles more? The Giver? Or the receiver?

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb

Joy

Geez – where does the time go? I honestly feel like we just celebrated Christmas, and we are now ending Holy Week, looking forward to the joy of Easter morning, but also another holiday to celebrate without my dad.

He loved holidays because it gave him the chance to be with his kids and grandkids. Some holidays had the added bonus of other members of our large extended family being able to join in the celebration, which just absolutely made his day. Last Easter brought the pain of watching his quick decline in battling Alzheimer’s. This Easter, though we won’t see him, we will hear him in the hymns. We will hear him say very loudly, “He is risen indeed!” We’ll toast Dad as we gather for dinner, and chat about how weird this “year of firsts without him” really is…

This Easter Sunday also marks what would have been our parents’ 51st wedding anniversary, and I still thank my husband for insisting we do something to celebrate their 50th last year. Oh, to go back and look at photos of the dinner is difficult as you could visually see the decline from the disease. And to see my aunt and uncle (Dad’s siblings) wipe tears as they watched their oldest brother struggle was also hard to witness.

But the depression we felt was diminished by the joy of having the family together. Despite it all, we ate, hugged, laughed and enjoyed life. Kind of like Good Friday….it is so depressing, but then we have the joy of the Resurrection – life is worth celebrating!

April 8th of 2011, I sent a floral delivery to my mom. The card read “Happy Anniversary. All my love, Larry.” That’s how he signed the card every year. He couldn’t order the flowers, so I did it for him. Bless his heart, he liked the flowers I sent, even though he didn’t connect “anniversary.” (And somehow my mom knew I was behind the delivery!)

This April 8th, the flowers I ordered for him this year say “In memory of.” Kind of depressing, I know, but, life is worth celebrating, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Blessings to you and yours.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb