It’s been challenging to write weekly over the summer. Partially because my daughter is home with me everyday and alone time is more scarce, and also because my brain is constantly boiling and after using it for the non-optional tasks, there is not much left. And yes, I do have AC, but somehow while that keeps my body cool, I don’t think it matters to my brain. My brain knows it is 90+ degrees outside, and therefore will overheat and short circuit. 

Last week was a big one with lots of trips, milestones and socializing. And death accompanied me each step of the way. 

I began by celebrating grilling and fireworks appreciation day on a lake with lifelong friends. 

The next day, we drove to a family trip on the beach. This has been a tradition since I was a kid – renting a house and getting together with the extended family. There were 10 of us enjoying the sun. And this was the first one without Dad. We still had a marvelous time, but of course he was missed. 

Last week I also said goodbye to my 97 year old neighbor. It was amazing, standing in line during visitation, seeing all the people who came to share condolences with the family and pay their respects. I felt like I was seeing the evidence of a life well lived, and the amount of love he poured into the community coming back to show itself to his family.

He was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. We shared many long conversations in the yard together talking about gardening, family, politics and faith. He taught us the history of the house we live in, since he had known every owner. He loved seeing my daughter grow up and always wanted to hear how she was doing and what she was learning. When he harvested apples from the micro orchard in his backyard he saved a bucket for us. He gifted us armloads of little golden books that used to belong to his kids. I remember once he walked over while I was painting some wood that would become a bookshelf (my husband did the woodwork, and I did the finishing). He laughed when he saw my messy hair and clothes covered in paint and told me it reminded him of his wife doing all kinds of projects when she was young. 

He was “old” when we moved into this house 12 years ago, but it always felt like he would live forever. We left vacation for a day to attend his wake, and it was worth it in every way. I needed to see him one last time to say goodbye. 

Back on vacation, I stopped into a metaphysical shop to get a tarot card reading, just for fun. The reading was great – I handpicked the 10 cards myself. I had to laugh when we were flipping the cards over and the tarot card reader said, “In your recent past is….(flip card) death.” Couldn’t have been more appropriate. 

But, as you know if you’re into tarot, the death card isn’t necessarily about Big D Death. It’s more a symbol of transformation, the end of a cycle, and new beginnings. And what she told me left me feeling a little sparkle of truth. She said that this transformation isn’t just in my recent past, but it’s part of my story. That I tend to be a catalyst for transformation, and that I generally find myself in situations where people need help ending something and beginning something new and I’m helpful in navigating that transition. That felt true to me, and helped me make sense of why I’m continuing this project, as I saw writing and trying new things as a way to move past the season of loss into whatever is next. 

Then my book club chose Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor for our July book, and I finished it by the beach. This one totally blew me away. I am a big sci-fi fan, but this was so different from anything I’ve ever read in the genre. Half of it is a modern day story about a young writer, and the other half is the weird sci-fi robot war story she writes. Both storylines are plot heavy and page-turney. There is definitely plenty of death. The main character is in a wheelchair and most of the wheelchair stuff is well researched and written, and the ending….well, I can’t spoil it, but it 100% took me by surprise.

If that wasn’t enough death for one July, tomorrow we’re embarking on our two week art show/ celebration of life for my mother-in-law. While it will be upbeat and lovely, it’s still a milestone, almost 1 year since her passing. She was a prolific fiber artist (quilts, sweaters, hats, handmade dolls, and even a little pair of leather moccasins she made for my daughter when she was born) and it will be amazing to see her legacy of stitches all in one place, and to see her family and friends gather to honor her. 

I realize as I write this that there is, well, a lot of death happening in the world at large right now. Each news story I read about Gaza, Texas, an assisted living facility in Fall River, MA not only breaks my heart because of all of the injustice and the magnitude of all this loss, but it also reminds me how many people are beginning their story of grief each day.  

A few days ago, Hank Green did a YouTube video about that time in 2019 when Stephen Colbert asked Keanu Reeves “What do you think happens when we die, Keanu Reeves?” and after a deep breath he responded, “I know that the ones who love us will miss us.”

Hank Green refers to this as an “internal philosophical backflip” because when we are asked this impossible question, we’re usually thinking about ourselves. And all we really know that happens when someone dies is that the world keeps turning. And so in this instant, Keanu takes your expectations and flips them, even though the answer is just so simple.  

We go through many transitions in life and probably the biggest change in our individual lives is when it comes to an end. Because whatever comes after is completely unlike whatever we experience on this plane. But for those who remain after us, our passing is one more earthly transition for them. I’ve learned lots of lessons navigating transitions in life and work: clear and consistent communication is important; sometimes you need to reassess your definition of success; be kind to yourself – who you were yesterday does not have to be the ruler you measure yourself by today. I’m sure there will be many more lessons that the universe will teach me through this transition.

It sure seems like it’s asking me to listen this month. 

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A special thank you to richardhowe.com for re-publishing my last post on America and Ruth Wise. Dick is an awesome storyteller, historian, and curator of local Merrimack Valley writers, and definitely worth a follow!