Bring On The Light!

December has arrived. I'm glad. There is some synchronistic intelligence to whoever put the calendar together and paired November with Thanksgiving. November has been a rough month. I've been downright grateful for my gratitude because the only light side of losing my best friend and companion of 3 years, has been the exquisite pleasure/pain of remembering the joy she brought into our lives and the simplicity of the gratitude I feel in my heart for having been her person. November alone is a time of darkening. Days get shorter and here in Maine, the temperatures drop. As the light wanes, and the overcast of a dreary shadow falls, activity moves to a more indoor arena…closer to the wood stove.
I feel the lessening of the light in my general mood and have begun to take some extra vitamin D to stave off the feeling of being sucked under…anyone who struggles with depression knows what I'm talking about. I increase my activity level in my chosen forms of physical exercise to help my sleep and to keep endorphins moving. But there is no quick grief process. Nope. And one of the reasons for that seems to be related to the tendency I've seen…that the impact of a loss has a way of rooting around in the basement of my psyche to discover any grief threads that have been prematurely tucked away. And hidden in an old closet. Each and every heart breaking loss of my life feels the impact of the newest and whatever detritus is left is the rising of a ghost when it is unfinished business. So…it's a really good idea to grieve completely when the loss occurs. Respond to the waves of sadness that herald the depth of love and the joy experienced, as they arise…because if tucked away unfelt…they only become more insistent. It's a fine line to walk…this line of a grieving heart. Too little creates baggage for future losses and too much makes the present moment heavier than it needs to be.

This November set out to teach me the lessons of the darkening. Four times I made plans to go to Mass. and visit with my Mom and sisters. The longer range of time spanned by the planning, the more clear was the insistent little voice telling me to stay put and exercise…or rest. One message came from Poison Ivy. I was put on an unfamiliar medication and opted out of traveling because of discomfort and exhaustion as a side effect. The medicine also reportedly plays havoc with the immune system…so of course 2 days after Sadie's death, I came down with a doozey of a respiratory infection. Then for Thanksgiving…there was weather. Even my alternate Thanksgiving plan was derailed by black ice. I felt almost grounded. But with each letting go of my plans, came a deep feeling of relief as I surrendered to some level of exhaustion in my soul. Clearly…I needed rest more than I knew. So…the upside of all the derailment was a small Thanksgiving dinner shared with my guys. Gratitude made the whole process of surrender bearable. I am so darn grateful for my home, my environment, my family. my nearby friends and for all the richness they add to my life, that an aura of contentment becomes possible svn in the wake of sadness.

I pulled out my bags of wool for the first time since last winter. My son brought me a photo of Sadie that seemed like one i might actually be able to copy in wool. I've tried to paint her in watercolors. I've tried to draw her. I've tried to needle felt a three dimensional portrait but all left me cold. I still quake in my heart when I am poised to begin a work of creativity. Unfortunately, I can talk myself right out of it if it looks like my outcome is going to be not good…and sometimes not good is just another phrase for not perfect. My creative disability got it's roots in my heart back in second grade. There is something soft and tender about the medium…it is very forgiving and can be fixed slowly as you go…unlike the spontaneity of water color. So…as we all relaxed into our Thanksgiving celebration, I began felting a portrait of Sadie. There is something therapeutic about the stabbing, jabbing and poking. Even the occasional hit on my finger didn't phase me as the warmth of the fire and the tender love of my girl seemed to infuse my heart…and picture. I know it is not a perfect portrait. It is not a photograph. It isn't even a realistic painting. It is woolworking..soft threads, soft fibers, soft edges. As I sat layering on the colors and shaping my girl's face on the fabric…I was aware of her presence. I could see her so clearly in my minds eye, that I believe I caught a trace of her spirit. As I speak those words, I feel filled with a satisfaction that is difficult to put into words. When I first began felting, I was going down to Mass. every other weekend to sit with my Mom. Sadie was never with me because I felt her youthful exuberance and need for attention would distract me from Mom or that she might trip over Sadie, so usually my trips were solo. This was a first. To be felting at home by my own fire and to be in communion with Sadie as I struggled to bring her spirit into my work was perfect. The perfect medium and process for grasping the gift of her short life and memorializing her presented itself right here at my own hearth. Now she will become a throw pillow…forever to be found resting on my pillows…in her favorite napping spot. I even found some old fabric that will make the perfect pillow…it is a colorful poplin covered with bright colored vegetables…so fitting for my girl who now rests peacefully in my vegetable garden for all time. So now that the gratitude is felt…expressed and honored …let me welcome December and the advent season. Today's first 3 inches of snow decorated the landscape with that heart lifting sense of a new beginning…So December…I say to you…Bring on the light!