He first appeared in our lives 20-plus years ago. It was as we were building a new home in a small, neighboring community. During construction, my husband and I, along with our two young boys, frequently drove out evenings and weekends. We wanted to check on the progress and to do our part of cleaning up the construction site. That’s where he showed up. He was a friendly towheaded 6-year-old, full of vim and vigor, an undeniable impish gleam in…
A short time back, my three sisters and I spent an evening together via Zoom. One of them kicked off the conversation by asking, “How’s everybody doing?” “I’m fine!” I answered immediately. Funny how, when the question was posed, we all seemed quick to default to that pat answer. Even so, none of our responses sounded very convincing. Compared to many others, I am truly fine. I have no serious health concerns. I have a comfortable home, plenty to eat,…
Tap-tap-tap. I rapped lightly on the driver’s window. The glass lowered, and the driver peered at me, a puzzled look on her face. I spoke directly to her passenger, the young widower who’d just exited the church following his wife’s funeral. They were preparing to go to the cemetery for the burial. Although I knew his four young children were seated behind him in the minivan, my focus remained fixed solely on him. “Hi Nolan*. I’m here on behalf of Robert,”…
He started coming to my home when he was just 5 years old. Every week he showed up for a half-hour piano lesson, usually accompanied by one of his parents. For several years I taught piano in the evenings after my regular daytime teaching gig at the detention center. So many great memories from that period! All my piano students were wonderful. I enjoyed their distinctive personalities, and I loved watching them progress and evolve. The thing that stood out…
One of my beloved sisters just celebrated a special birthday. Approaching a milestone five years ago, she’d made big plans to spend it with her husband and children. When Mom passed away suddenly just a couple weeks before the anticipated celebration, all thoughts of party plans fell by the wayside. The focus shifted to grieving and caring for our father. A quick five years later found this same sister at the door of another significant birthday. Again, she’d hoped to…
Thoughts about something I read keep worming their way into my mind. It was presented by a character in a story, a Buddhist monk. He was encouraging his Protestant brother-in-law to release his attachment to all experiences. He suggested letting go of the ties to successes as well as failures. It’s not hard to see the harm caused by negative experiences weighing you down. But successes? What’s wrong with clinging to their memory? Couldn’t there be some benefit from replaying our triumphs when we…
I just said goodbye to an old friend, knowing full well our paths are unlikely to cross again. We met 34 years ago, and we remained quite close until our recent parting. And though this friend is not a living being, I’m keenly aware of the debt of gratitude I owe it. This friend is my piano. I didn’t think I’d be so sentimental about bidding it farewell, but as our time together grew short, I found myself recalling the highlights…
For my friend Connie, that recent Sunday was a day of joyous celebration. It was a baby shower for her daughter and her first grandchild, a baby girl scheduled to arrive in October. The party had been planned for several weeks, and family came from far and wide to share in the happy time. Then the very next day, within the same four walls that had beheld such blissfulness, everything shifted dramatically. Without missing a beat, the euphoric highs for…
It was a sacred day. The minister had said it was, and to all of us gathered at my father’s graveside, it truly felt that way. On that beautiful, sunshiny spring morning, my siblings and our spouses had met outside the funeral home. From there we would accompany Dad’s body on its final journey. The official funeral home car with its yellow flashing lights led the way, and the hearse followed. The rest of us fell in behind for the…
When he first entered the hospital, he’d been identified as a “DNR” patient—do not resuscitate. It seemed like a natural path to choose, given his advanced years, his declining physical state, and his dementia. The decision had actually been made a couple years ago, and that was a good thing. After all, who wants to make that choice while in the throes of a health crisis? But now that we were there, the strength of that conviction was wavering. Ten…