Welcome, November. The year has turned, and it is nearly holiday time. Rather than yap about what a shock this is, I'll just leave a couple little photos.
Sometimes the season just creeps into the soul. They say the veil between the worlds is thin. I can believe that because I've been contemplating my dad, my grandparents, and the spirit and soul left in my life from each of these dear ones who have passed.
I wish for my dad's ingenuity and ability to solve issues. He always rescued me, and I can admit here I often shut my eyes and wait for that magic to happen. Rescue isn't coming. I need to do it myself. But I'll forever miss my dad, his optimism, and his goodness.
I can recall my grandfather on my mother's side as he watched his world slip away due to arthritis, which did lead to depression although we didn't treat it as such. He rode around the precious farm on a little Ferguson grey tractor as long as he could. I do well to use his persevering tactics to fight against the family devil named arthritis.
My gramma, his loving wife who was so wonderful, short, fiery, and unmistakably Leo fierce in her love and faith. She spoke the language of persistence and cooking, prayers and sewing and hugs... Images of her pink and red kitchen, her busy sewing machine, and her kitchen filled with spices and warmth... I do well to bring all of her unconditional love and gifts into my soul.
And my dad's mother, Ma... Mellow and cooking for just one or a hundred with equal passion and peace. She believed everyone did the very best they could, given their circumstances. She patiently navigated her world, turning everything into its possible best, spinning straw into gold. I hope I am like her, as well.
Saints and Souls. November enters the gates with Thanksgiving.