Well, kitties, I wrote something. You can hear about our road trip to the deep south on Rock, Water, and Light, and for those of you following the baby saga on Yahoo, you can hear a bit about that too. Sign in, check in, and tell me all about you.

Writing has been an elusive little monkey of late - no time or energy - but it feels good to be back in the saddle again.

Am reading "Julie & Julia" for all you readers and resident foodees. I highly recommend it. Even better than the wonderfully fun and inspiring movie.

Au revoir for now!

~Ally

grief

It is so very complicated. Not unlike our other up-and-down relationships - years gone by, details forgotten, then remembered in an instant.

My friend Jean who works in hospice calls the sudden just-happened-yesterday moments "grief bursts." She is so right. Attending a funeral that feels a little too familiar. Insert my family members instead of these random strangers and we are at Dad's funeral all over again. The songs the choir sings - are they singing for you, Dad?

Dad seems to keep showing up in the form of great and majestic birds...not surprising, really. The other day, a Peregrine falcon flew alongside Scott's car, right at eye level on the drivers' side, looking at him while he drove. They beheld each other. It made Scott cry and opened up his heart in a big, momentary way. Earlier, there was the eagle that flew right over us and landed in a tree a mere twenty feet away, too low for an eagle to land, too close to not be some kind of sign of your presence. And the loon(s). And the hawks that circle above or the black crows, always flying in twos, that lead me on many days. I see you. I'm glad you are flying now. You waited a long time to fly.

About a week ago (or two now?), my friend died. Literally five minutes later, another friend's husband passed. The next day as my mother told me of both events, I felt them sit down in my heart and stay awhile. The heaviness of grief can be overwhelming. Our friend's husband's memorial was a few days later. Mom and I went and boy, if it didn't feel a little close for comfort. The wife, now widowed, gave a long message at her husband's service, attributing all his accomplishments and passions to his great strength of character, blessing his children by telling everyone how much she had loved him. It hurt, in a good way. The wife asked Mom to read a piece on grief. In it was the phrase, "grief is my friend." And Mom would not read that. She just couldn't. But I could have because I have become so entwined with that relationship, that "otherness" of Grief that it might as well be a member of the family.

It is not a friend in the sense of comforting - or maybe it is. But it is close to us, always present, showing its colors in different forms. Like the fact that at coming on two years past Dad's death, I am just about strong enough to finally read his fishing memoir. I loaned the book to a co-worker in hospice, a social worker, who wanted to read some stories to a patient who was basically unresponsive...except when a nurse showed him pictures of big fish he'd caught. So I passed on the stories. And maybe when I get the book back, I can actually read it without getting sick to my stomach and throwing it back on the shelf.

Dad, life is going on, but not without you. I am still pissed at you, don't get me wrong. But only because there is so much I'd like to be able to discuss with you. So many things we still have to do together. Like skydiving. And fishing up at Chazy. Going to the funeral of your best friend's daughter - I know you would never have chosen to miss it. And hiking up the correct side - the steep but MUCH SHORTER trail to the top of Locke's Hill. Mom showed it to us, and it wasn't so bad. We came down the back side, the longer trail you tried to ascend and I can see why you thought it was miserable!

We are making fajitas tonight and watching stupid TV. Want to join us? Wish you could.

I'll be looking for you in the sky, Dad. My Buddhist teacher (oh stop rolling your eyes!) says the sky is always there and all is well.

All is well, Dad.

Love, Al

Little girls singing

There is a little girl who lives in the house behind our condos. Often when I am sitting outside on our patio, I can see her through the trees. She is dancing or bouncing on the trampoline. And she is singing at the top of her lungs. Today she is singing and clapping while pacing back and forth.

She reminds me of me, around age 8 or 9. I used to spend hours in our backyard growing up in Chicago, swinging on the old rusty yellow swingset, pumping fast and flying as high as I could. I would sing through all the songs I knew, especially the ones I learned in music class at school.

When we learned the patriotic songs like "America the Beautiful" or "The Star Spangled Banner," I loved singing those at the top of my lungs. That was probably my most patriotic time and I felt proud of my country. I knew in my heart that the neighbors must enjoy my singing. :)

I also really loved to sing this little Simon & Garfunkel ditty:

Hello Lampost,

whatcha knowin'?

I've come to watch your flowers growin'.

Ain't you got no rhymes for me?

Do-it-n-do-do, feelin' groovy!

I got no deeds to do,

no promises to keep.

I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep -

let your morning time drop

all its petals on me.

Do-it-n-do-do, feelin' groovy!

Da da da da--da--da--da, feelin' groovy.

~Ally

from www.photosearch.com

Aging

It's exceptionally hard getting older.
It's hard to realize your body isn't working the way it used to, healing as quickly from injuries, rising to the occasion like it once did.
It's infuriating to be told you cannot (should not) drive anymore. To have your keys taken away, and not for the intoxicated party night, but for good.
It hurts when your friends - the same age as you! - begin getting cancer, or dying of headache-turned-brain-tumors. It's horrifying when a loved one drops dead of a heart attack.
You can't believe it when the thought of going up that damn driveway hill with the garbage bin is exhausting, or your just don't feel like watering all the plants in the garden anymore.
When you realize your clothes look like the outdated relics of your mother's closet...

Aging sucks.

This is what I am learning as our parents start to enter the age of grief, shocking diagnoses from the doctor, and visits from friends who are now widows.

These are the things I think on as I work to tend the sick and dying every day, albeit in my administrative, secretarial way, at my Hospice job. People are sick and dying EVERY SINGLE DAY. I find myself saying in my head things like, "If only someone would die so it would free up the schedule a bit." These are the sick thoughts you have when you work in Hospice. These are the blow-off-steam moments that get you through the day. You find yourself so, so tired and worn out at the end of the week (like tonight). Until you realize, you have been surrounded by various stages of death all day, and lending every bit of compassion you have to suffering and grieving families who need it. And I'm not even the nurse.

Last night I found myself at the semi-annual memorial service Hospice holds for families members who have lost someone they loved. On my name tag, I wrote: "Allison Snyder" and under In Memory Of, I wrote "Larry Cox." Because the one you've lost doesn't go away after a year of prescribed grieving time. They are with you always, every day, in your thoughts and frustrations, memories and laughs.

In the service sat several dozen families - some with other family members, some alone (a spouse, a brother, a daughter). Tears were shed and laughs were shared. A beautiful choir sang three songs, each bringing you just a bit closer to your loved one and God (though they were very respectfully not religious). Several people looked me in the eye and did not look away during the service. I made myself keep returning their gaze. In grief, you long to connect, even with a stranger. You find yourself in this unlikely and miserable Club you didn't realize existed - the Club of Those Left Behind. There should be a bumper sticker, key chain, and a membership T-shirt. Instead, there is just a knowing look between stranger-friends that happens every few months (or years), the stories of love lost just on the tip of everyone's tongue, no matter what time has passed.

Afterwards, Hospice offered cookies, cheese and crackers, and juice...as if that could help. But in some way, it did. It is so normal to share a snack with others. And normal is what you crave like the dickens when you feel so lost, your world turned upside down and inside out, never to return to its previous glory.

I talked (listened) at length with a man who's brother-in-law had died in the last few months. He told me endless fishing stories (the tall tales I have heard all my life) of 4 ft Stripers and the night the boys caught 60 sharks off the shore, etc etc. I think he was channeling my Dad, who might have been coming through saying, "I'm still here in every ordinary way."

Aging brings the shadow of death with it, and we all feel that chill and try to run. There's no fight mechanism in place - it's all flight at the start. I am not changing, getting older, slowing down! I'll be damned if I ever give up my (insert your favorite passion)! I don't need anything but the cool, sweet earth and my fishing pole.

Oh, and you. And your support and kindness. And maybe a wipe of my chin where the kernel of corn has stuck and won't let itself free. Remind me, what year was it that we took that wonderful trip? Have you seen my glasses (that rest on my forehead)? There's nothing wrong with my head! Oh, you said "bread"?

Grace. Compassion. For others. For ourselves and this ever-changing body and spirit.

Grace from me, to you.

~Ally

Poem

A Remedy for Insomnia

Not sheep coming down the hills,
not cracks on the ceiling—
count the ones you loved,
the former tenants of dreams
who would keep you awake,
once meant the world to you,
rocked you in their arms,
those who loved you . . .
You will fall asleep, by dawn, in tears.

~Vera Pavlova

Good Things

A list for Caralee, my dear friend who is sick in her body but not in her heart:

GOOD THINGS:

The first day of spring when you roll down the car windows to feel that whoosh of cool air.

Trading in your shoes and socks for sandals and painted toenails.

Getting a real letter in the mail!

Finding a fiver in your pocket from last year.

Not having to wait for the cable guy from 2-5 (that's as close as we can estimate...).

Cats rolling around on their backs on the patio because, oh, it feels soooo good!

Putting the plants back outside and hoping, waiting, for flowers to bloom.

Having an old friend come visit you with no agenda, just wanting to be with you a while.

Getting a compliment from your boss at work!

Getting a raise (even better...).

The first day of softball weather - you know what I'm talking about. Mmmm.

Homemade meals where you can actually taste the love cooked in.

A delightful surprise!

Daffodils - 'nuff said.

White birch trees standing like ghosts on the edge of the water.

Cooking out the first steak of summer (which we did on Saturday).

Walking in the woods with your mom.

Looking through old pictures that make you laugh all over again.

Campfires. Oh, that smell!

Snuggling up with a warm puppy dog who is so, so tired.

Cats with extra toes (believe me, and O'Reilly, this is a constant delight)!

Writing out your thoughts and feelings.

Time to sew.

The joy of waiting for someone you love to walk through that door.

Knowing you are loved.

Love you Caralee! Many blessings and hugs~

Ally

Back row: sisters Laurie and Jennifer

Front row: Kaylee (the pooch), dad Emerson, Caralee, and mom Doris

and this is Caralee's favorite muttsky, Kaylee

(photos by Emerson)

This Simple Woman's Day Book

The Simple Woman's Day Book . . .


FOR TODAY, March 26, 2010

Outside My Window... it has turned to night. The sun stays out longer now and the air has been quite warm, though today, evening brought a chill with it. New Hampshire is officially in Springtime, as the snow and ice have melted, buds have begun on the bravest of trees, and the ticks, bees, geese, and even one sly black fly have returned. Don't they know it's only March? Ripe time for a blizzard. But our pool house opened today and we have forgotten our mittens and shovels altogether.

I am thinking... how amazing it is that a song, a scent, or the words of a stranger can evoke the strongest heart pulls toward an old friend. Last night, I heard a Little Song by Sarah Jarosz that made me long in my heart for my friend Molly, whom I have not seen in years. Today, the scented oil at the massage therapist reminded me of Amy - and now that sweet smell is on my skin, continuing to bring me back to my dear sister-like friend. Some moments in life never fade on the inside, and we are blessed by the unexpected reminders.

I am thankful for... the wonderful women with whom I work - who are kind, generous, and able to laugh at themselves. Today at work we celebrated Social Workers' Month. In Hospice, this is a particularly hard job, not for the weak of heart. I used to know a woman who worked with Aids patients. I wondered how she could endure such pain and suffering on a daily basis. Now I know that it is in helping people through their most vulnerable, frightening, and fragile times that our hearts are strengthened to love more fully, listen more deeply, and relax into the ever-present changes of a life.

From the kitchen... Scott and I will soon be enjoying the L&A Sausage Quiche, which I made again last night. Delicious! Will make some blueberry muffins - good ol' 50 cent Jiffys are still the simplest and best in my opinion - and maybe a salad to accompany the eggy pie.

I am wearing... jammies, since I am a) off work, b) home, and c) ready to enjoy a relaxing weekend! It's movie night here at Snyderville tonight - we are deciding between a scary one (Sixth Sense), a silly one (Boat Trip), and an interesting one (The Real Dirt on Farmer John).

I am creating... new habits of relaxation and de-stressing my body. Each day I work on stretching, sleeping, and bringing down my crazy by deep breathing, meditating, reading on my lunch hour, or taking in the natural world around me.

I am going... to a moving party tomorrow. Sarge, my 84-yr old friend is finally moving out of the big family house and into some more affordable apartment housing. It will be a big relief for those of us who do his finances and help with his complicated old man life. But it will probably be hard for him to leave that old house. He loves his yard projects, his gardening, his "home improvement" ventures, and most of all, his independence. How will we convince him that living in an apartment does not mean he isn't independent? And he will be right downtown, able to do all the walking and visiting he loves, shopping in his daily haunts and running up his tab at Madeleine's. All good things. His wife died in that house, and he has put in 50 years of love, sweat, and toil. I hope tomorrow he will be buoyed by friendship and laughter, and not too sad.

And FOR TODAY, March 29, 2010

I am reading...
The Elegant Gathering of White Snows, by Kris Radish

This is an amazing book that tells the stories of eight women who decide one night to take off from their lives and begin walking through the night, and then many following days. They are on a pilgrimage of sorts to think about and evaluate their lives, sharing sorrows and unraveling the tales of how they experienced life. I don't know how to put it in graceful words, but this book is very powerful and moving. Each woman's life is part of the universal story of women everywhere. It is definitely worth reading. I have been enjoying it bit by bit on my lunch hours, falling into the prose and not wanting to stop reading.

I am hoping... I have so many hopes right now I don't know where to begin. But I am also thinking on a principle from Donna Q. about how the combination of our longings and self loathing thoughts form a constant circle of frustration. Our attachments to wants and "shoulds" bind rather than free us. But meanwhile, a few of my hopes are: that Sarge can accept and delight in his new life in the apartment; that Caralee can have a break from her cancer pain and suffering and enjoy the many last days of her life; that Lauren will find a close woman friend in Mexico to share her joys, thoughts, and burdens; that my grandmas will feel loved and well taken care of in Indiana and Minnesota; that Kenda's wedding plans will bring her joy and turn into a wonderful day she will love remembering; that Laurel's new job will be a blessing to her; that my father and Grandpa C. will know they are loved and remembered, wherever they are; and that Dad will send a special blessing to Mom for their anniversary this weekend.

I am hearing... the hum of the noisy but comforting refrigerator. It is time for bed and I am avoiding the start of a new and exhausting week. But I am grateful to not be experiencing The Sunday Night Dread, as I have been lucky enough to find a job I like.

Around the house... are piles of tasks waiting to be accomplished - laundry, financial papers, my new pine cone project (from beautiful branches I gathered on our walk at the Pine Barrens on Saturday), library books to return, movies to watch and return, Pete's birthday present to mail and Easter goodies to be stuffed in baskets...the list goes on and on...

One of my favorite things... is cooking for someone else. Tonight I enjoyed making an Aztec Casserole for a dear friend and nurse with whom I work. I bribed her with Mexican food so she'd work an extra on-call shift tomorrow. I happily prepared her meal tonight, while listening to traditional mariachi love songs and cooking up a storm. I also made homemade cornbread for the first time, and it was yummy! Scott and I thoroughly enjoyed our Mexican treats before K. gets the rest tomorrow. I love cooking for my husband too.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week... I did a lot of my errands and appointments last week. So this week I will spend time with Scott, work on finances and budgeting, clean up the house, and get ready for Easter with Mom on Saturday and Sunday. I bought the eggs to be colored and the goodies to fill Easter baskets, and gathered some special pine cone twigs for decorating. What am I, Martha Stewart? I also desperately need a haircut, so maybe I can make that happen this week. Do the world a favor, right??

Here is picture thought I am sharing...


And there you have it, my Simple Woman's Day Book. View other entries at Simple Woman's Day Book. Try writing one yourself! It makes a lovely snapshot of your life, as it is - perfect in all its beautiful imperfection - today.

~Ally