This Beautiful Place, I Am

I can hear that title in a Nigerian accent, as if it were something said to me that caught me unawares, and I can feel the thought forming in my head as to what it could mean. All English words, but the composition is jumbled, or is it?

I am in a beautiful place.
I am a beautiful place.
There is a place of beauty and I am part of it.

We first came here two years ago. We chose it again this summer after failing to make more complicated travel plans to Acadia National Park, Maine. We chose it because we could bring Primo, and last time Primo loved it. We chose it because it is easy, and we love it. We chose it so we could have the summer we didn't have at home. We chose to stay two weeks instead of one, and to do as little as possible.

I chose it to have the summer I have never had. The one you might read about as a Young Adult in a Young Adult novel, about a girl who goes to Cape Cod for the summer and she lives in her bathing suit night and day, even rides her bike to the store in her bathing suit. Each sunset melts into the next, and the days are pretty much all the same...beautiful and beautiful and peaceful and peaceful and easy and easy. Each day is like the next, and yet, you're a little sorry when one ends, because it means one less at the end, it means finite.

The week before we left, I worked from home a few days, and perhaps that's what caused all the crying and wailing. The week before that, I had no choice. Work was a tornado. And it was a blessing. 

I gave into grief. I decided that if it really wanted me, it could have me. I also decided that if it could do without me for an hour or two, then I would put grief in detention until I could devote all my time to it. 

I started to feel like going on a trip was the wrong thing to do. Like I shouldn't be out enjoying something when I should be grieving.

Packing was more laborious than usual. 

We arrived, and I felt a horrible pang of missing Primo overcome me. How could I be here? Without him? How could my life had changed so much?

That depression I went through in September and October...did I somehow know? I think I might have. I think I might have known that he was not long for this world.

But yes, I am struck by how different my life feels since two years ago. 

We settled in pretty quickly here. I let myself cry whenever I wanted, and it would hit me at the damnedest times...for example, when I was underwater, snorkeling, I started crying. I decided, "Okay, here it comes, I will swim underwater and stare at the ocean floor and cry through my tube," and that is what I did.

We brought Abby, my kitty. She loved it right away.  She thinks this is our new house. I wish she were in charge.

I can hear the ocean day and night. This house is right on the beach. I have never had an ocean front house. I have never awoken to a loud sound, like a generator, in the middle of the night, and realized, "Oh, it is only the ocean."

I watch the sun baptize itself nightly in the sea and not come out.

I watch the milky way rise up out of the sea and climb up the sky hour by hour. I see thousands of stars, and I see mars, which is red and prominent. I stare at the stars and I use my astronomy charts, and I cannot make sense out of this sky, which looks like chaos but is actually perfectly timed science, nature's own clock.

I stare at the water and the sky that meets the water, and I can see all around me, like a globe, I have a global view, I guess, I see 360 degrees, and I see no beginning and no end. 

And I spend a lot of my time, trying to lose all my edges so that I am not separate from this beauty that surrounds me but rather a part of it. I think of myself as a star that must cast a certain amount of light for the good of the being itself, this being that I am part of, bigger than earth...life I guess. When I feel so small, I feel so much lighter, my mind so much freer. 

And everyday I feel freer and lighter and the light comes back and I think about how I will keep my edges worn down when I must go back to the land where there are ends and beginnings and no view whatsoever.

And because I forgot the SD card to my camera, I can take only a few photos, so instead I commit this space to my memory so that I can put myself there anytime.

I see to the West the Gulf and to the east the bay, and sun sets on the gulf and it rises on the bay, and the bay itself can be ugly. Brown and sludgy and slimy with seaweed. Except when the sun is rising, then it captures the pink clouds over head, and it turns cerulean blue, and I see the egrets and eagles and tall reeds, and it is even more beautiful than the ocean.

I belong in these moments. I belong to them. These moments. They are having me. I will give into them every time. But first I must remember to keep my guard down. To keep those edges filed.

--Cape San Blas, Florida

Only Human

"All of his life he tried to be a good person. Many times, however he failed. For after all, he was only human. He wasn't a dog."
-Charles M. Schulz - 

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. 

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. 
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. 
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. 
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. 

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... 

Another World

My grandma died early last Monday, September 29. She was 99 years old. Her name was Adallae. She filled my life with love and laughter and meaning. Larry and I went up for her memorial service this past weekend. It was the most beautiful service I'd ever attended. Larry offered comfort and all the right words and gestures. We sent her out the way she asked--with a song of praise and stories of laughter.

My mom is the sole remainder of her family now. She had to do most of this alone, and what a beautiful tribute she made for my grandma.

When I am feeling stronger, I want to write about my wonderful grandma.

I took Monday off to spend time with my mom in Michigan. It didn't go as planned. Instead, I had to say goodbye to Primo. Primo was my best friend. He was sixteen. He adopted me when he was 3. I spent thirteen and half wonderful years with this generous and gentle soul.

Larry and I feel the crushing sorrow of his loss on a minute-by-minute basis.

When I feel stronger, I'm going to talk about my wonderful dog, Primo.

Primo, My Best Friend

I AM NOT THERE

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.