Thursday, November 20, 2008
No matter how you phrase it, or what euphemism you use, death is dang hard. And it seems to be going around our small community these days. It's hard not to feel a bit down. Varying degrees of hurt and sadness have accompanied each new revelation of loss depending how close or distant the relationship. What has followed each, however, is the distinct feeling that something is missing that can never be replaced.
The part that really gets to me is that with each loss comes a bombardment of memories once forgotten. Little things that didn't seem to matter at the time, or important moments that weren't truly acknowledged for their value. It is as though when someone sheds this life as we know it, the moments and memories and love that was shared with them grow a little brighter; become more than they were. I can't decide if I find this incredibly sad or incredibly beautiful, so I'll call it bittersweet.
I say sad because undoubtedly regret follows. Moments lived are, if we are truly honest, never really savored. The seemingly ordinary is far more powerful than we give it credit for. Because of this, we often forget to tell the people who inhabit those moments with us how much they mean to us, or, for that matter, don't even realize the role they play until they are gone. In my limited and immature experience, it is impossible to set out on a mission to try to be certain everyone you care for truly knows how much. I do try to make sure those I love know it, but I certainly have not succeeded in articulating the profoundness of some connections. The hardest part is, there are always those who have simply always been there and so their role is not noticed until it is missing from the script.
However, I also find this brightened, glossy memory of those no longer with us beautiful because the roots of those memories are so deep and so wide and so long that no one who loved well is ever truly lost to those left behind. They remain to remind how far our influence can reach, how connected we all really are, and how the trick to immortality is to love well and indiscriminately.
Posted by Sarah, Grand-Dutchess of Serendipity at 4:26 PM
Friday, November 14, 2008
My amazing, talented husband and his friends down at Reimer & Co. Architectural Blacksmiths, had the grand unveiling of their first venture into large scale public art yesterday. Made extra exciting by the fact that this is really a step forward for Cranbrook as well. It's not really known for it's modern thinking. Here are some pictures of the day. As well, there is a picture of Mom and her happy face sunshine shepherd's pie because she didn't believe me when I said I would blog about it, and she is just so gosh darn proud of it. :) P.S. It was also delicious!
Posted by Sarah, Grand-Dutchess of Serendipity at 4:50 PM