The reason I love living in New England is the distinct difference in the seasons, at the beginning of each new season I think this is my favorite because it’s hard to choose just one. I tolerate the cold and the ice and the fifth season, mud, to enjoy the spring when trees bud and bulbs pop up out of hiding, the summer sounds of kids playing in the water and the sound of the crickets and fall, with pumpkin spice coffee and the vibrant colors of the trees.

Just as there are the physical seasons of life, there are also the emotional ones. The cycle of life is rich with many milestones along the way. Just as with the physical seasons, there are the favorite milestones that bring joy and happiness and then there are the milestones that leave in their wake grief, anger and pain.

The one milestone that leaves the most grief is the loss of a loved one. In this circle of life, it’s natural to mourn the passing of grandparents and parents, this is to be expected once we reach a certain age. It’s never easy, and without regrets for how we had to say our goodbyes. Sometimes we know it’s coming we have time to prepare, to say our goodbyes, and other times it’s a phone call in the middle of the night when you least expect it.

I was ten when my favorite grandmother dropped dead at the age of 69, she hadn’t been sick and I had been with her the week before. It was a heart attack, she went quickly they said, no pain, just gone. They said I was too young to go to the wake and funeral. It was the first time I saw my dad cry, I’ll never forget the grief and pain. Even though I was only ten when she passed, I have some very vivid memories of her teaching me to bake and she was the first person to introduce me to the game of solitaire.

In this season, surrounded by the budding trees and the daffodils and hyacinths coming up through the ground, I feel an immense grief for the loss of my best friend from childhood. Susan left this earth on March 31 at age 69, not quickly, but after almost 2 years of dealing with terminal cancer. Cancer is insidious, invasive, giving and taking hope with each treatment and new miracle drug.

I’m thankful that in the fall and winter we fell into a routine where I would visit along with a few of our close friends from middle school. Each of us brought something, I brought the bagels and cream cheese, Bev brought the brownies, half cooked and gooey, the way they should be, and Marlene would bring the heathy stuff, fruit and quiche. Susan would sneak the keys to the car and drive to pick up the most amazing gourmet muffins to complete our brunch. We knew she was having a good day when she presented the muffin box.

Susan’s love language was gift giving and even though she was very sick, she never stopped making gifts. When we visited, there would be 3 bags on the counter in the kitchen each containing a wonderful handcrafted token of love.

I’m grateful for this time we spent together as friends, talking about the old days, when we walked together the 1.75 miles each day to and from school, about our shenanigans, and how they helped mold us into the adults we are today.

I’m most grateful because we had the opportunity to have the talk, the talk that no one ever wants to have, but the talk everyone should have with their loved ones, the talk where we freely express our love for one another and acknowledge how much our friendship has meant. This is the gift I will always treasure from our friendship. And I’m grateful I was with her and her family during the last few days of her life. I know she knew I was there, sometimes she could squeeze my hand or try to smile.

At her funeral there was a very large basket of flower seeds, Susan was also a master gardener, she had the ability to transform any space into a thing of beauty. And it was fitting for her, even at the end, to make sure everyone left with a gift from her.

I will plant Susan’s seeds and she will always live on in my heart. I will feel her spirit when I see Hydrangeas in bloom, catch a whiff of her signature Shalimar or walk along the beach. Rest my dear friend, until we meet again…..

We received word this weekend that my 41 year old son-in-law was found dead from a suspected overdose. Receiving that phone call and listening to the heart wrenching screams from my daughter was hard, very hard. But the reality is this, when there is active addiction in a family, every time you answer the phone, on some level, this is your greatest fear.

How it happened at this point is irrelevant, but what brought him to leave this earth at the young age of 41 is most likely the story you’d would expect. Suffice to say he endured a traumatic childhood full of stuff no child should have to endure. He most likely tried to get through the storms by self medicating, probably first with a little pot, then some pills and then the heavy stuff that the toxicology report will contain.

He was a part of our life for almost twenty years and in that time we saw the very best of him and the very worst. For the few years he and my daughter lived with us, he tried to be helpful, he liked to mow the grass on the riding lawnmower, cigarette in one hand, his signature Mountain Dew in the other.

But there was also the other side, the side where we suspected he was using, late night runs, things around the house that would turn up missing, always explained in a way that would arose our suspicions, but never in a way that would lead to an out and out confrontation. People who live with addictions in their families can relate.

When his son was born, he held it together, he worked hard to help our daughter get through school and for a brief period of time, we thought all was well, we were hopeful that this precious baby would be the reason he would stop. But that wasn’t to be.

Instead, overtime the addiction won, even with multiple times in rehab, each time leaving with a renewed sense of hope, it was only a matter of time that his body would crave more and he found himself falling prey to the desire.

There is such a stigma with addiction, the words people use, loser, druggie, why can’t they just stop, they got what they deserve, and on and on. Addiction is a disease, it’s been proven that there are actually changes in the brain and for so many addicts, as much as they want to stop, they just can’t. And for many, they have burned every bridge with every loved one which in turn makes it difficult for those left behind to figure out how to grieve, was there something they could have done to prevent their loved one from looking for that last high?

Today it was announced that over 100,000 people died this past year of overdoses, this is a staggering number and for every victim there is a ripple effect, wives, children, brothers, nieces, nephews, everyone in the family is touched in some way.

In the end, I believe that he deserved better, that perhaps with the right therapy or a comprehensive long term rehab program, he could have made it in recovery and instead of his son visiting him at the Funeral Home this weekend, he and his son would be shopping together for the Thanksgiving Turkey.

A few years ago my daughter gave me a beautiful personalized journal…..It came complete with color coded stickers and a lovely laminated cover. It was so beautiful that I thought I would ruin it by writing in it, so after looking at it for a few days, then thinking about what I would write, then going to Pinterest to check out how everyone else was using journals, I put it away in a safe place. And there it stayed until I stumbled across it a few days ago while putting away some books.

As I look around my house I see many things we never use. Top on the list is the collection of crystal glasses that each year I pull out of the china cabinet, wash, and put back. I can’t recall using the brandy glasses since my scotch phase several years ago. We have on a few occasions used the delicate etched glass ice tea glasses, but I have to say I never really enjoy using them because I am afraid they will shatter when they are washed. We finally gave up on the crystal matching wine glasses after so many broke and left us with a crazy assortment of glasses from wine tasting tours.

When we were first married, we had a group of 12 completely mismatched everyday glasses, no two matched. We would joke and say that our glass collection represented the different phases in our lives. The lone survivors of the matched sets, the sturdy ones that weathered all the storms. And even with all the mismatched everyday glasses, I never once thought to set our everyday table with the good glasses.

And the glasses are just one thing I save for best, let’s not even get started with the good china, the good platters, the good candles, the good linens, the good purse, the good sweater…. we all have our lists, they are endless.

According to all the health experts the next few months of this pandemic will be difficult at best. So what better time to use all the good stuff?

May this New Year bring you good health, joy, peace and love.

My mom was the soprano soloist at our little Methodist Church in Wakefield, Massachusetts and each Christmas Eve I would sit in the pew with my dad and siblings and listen to my mother’s beautiful voice sing “O Holy Night”. It just wasn’t Christmas Eve until mom sang. As a kid I was always nervous that we were totally messing up Santa’s schedule by being in church. I was convinced we should be home in bed…what if we missed him? Even as a young child I had the need to want to control everything…I’m not fond of surprises.

Now as an adult one of my favorite parts of Christmas is the Christmas Eve Service at our church, seeing the faces of people who have traveled to be with loved ones, the ones with the youngsters and the ones who make their annual trek to the building. The service ends with the congregation singing Silent Night by candlelight and for me that is the love of Christmas.

So let’s just fast forward to this year and hopefully you can stand one more rant about just how much this entire year sucks….because of course, we won’t be attending church on Christmas Eve, we’ll be watching it on Facebook Live….and I think that just about sums up this entire year, Christmas Eve on Facebook…

This past week I listened in as our little guys teacher tried her very best to make the kids holiday celebrations seem normal, and our little guy tried his best to keep his camera shut off and had no interest in the virtual activities. Other than looking for that ridiculous Elf every day, he doesn’t even mention Christmas…

Since March I’ve tried to keep the “this is ok, we’re all in this together, we’ll be OK” going but I have to admit I’m hitting the wall….hard…Yesterday was our 13th wedding anniversary and our tradition for the past 6 years has been to book a luxurious room at a Boston hotel and attend the Boston Pops Concert followed by a wonderful dinner at one of Boston’s finest restaurants. Of course that’s not how we spent our day yesterday…

Our family is large and we value our Italian roots and most of all I will be missing our gathering tomorrow, our marathon of grazing on amazing foods and drinks sprinkled with the unwrapping of gifts, all the laughing…I will miss our blended kids annual candy exchange, a tradition that begin the year after we married. The grown up kids decided that a bag of candy would suffice as the perfect gift and so the tradition began..in hindsight, they were smart…one size fits all and everyone is happy…

So this evening, I’ll make our families traditional pasta with seafood, my mom’s recipe, and at 5:00 my family will arrive for their Christmas Eve take out dinner…and tomorrow we’ll gather again in the morning, in the garage, staying socially distant from one another and wearing masks to exchange gifts and food each to bring back to their own home. It’s the best we can do under the circumstances.

And tonight, I’ll tune into our church’s Facebook live and do my best to think about all the Christmas Eve’s past and hopefully this ache in my heart will be lifted. And I hope and pray that next year things will be back to normal…..whatever that may be!

Blessings and Peace to all

The leaves are beginning to turn, the artificial orange fall scented candle is burning by the stove and my favorite pumpkin spice coffee is back. The calendar still says summer, but in my mind and in the aisles of CVS, trust me, it’s fall.

In any other year, fall also means back to school, but in our time of quarantine, fall this year means scrubbing off an old Ikea desk and setting it up in our dining room so we can have the pleasure of spending every weekday from 9-3, supervising little man as he begins 4^th grade. I’m especially looking forward to watching him do his Zoom gymnastics, over and under the chair, camera placed so only the top of his head is showing….all of you with kids, you totally know the drill….the struggle is real.

Fall is the time we Bless the Backpacks at our church, but this year, instead of backpacks, our pastor will bless the laptops….we also have a Sunday when the pets are blessed, not sure how that will be handled over zoom in case it’s too cold in New England to worship in the great outdoors.

With Fall comes apple picking, our annual gathering of the grands dressed in their appropriate Patriot team shirt to pose for the grandkid photo that ends up as a refrigerator magnet until the following year. Not sure how we’ll manage that while wearing masks, socially distancing and fighting off other families in the orchard for the best apples

Fall is also Halloween…..will every piece of candy come with a Lysol wipe? Can you even buy Lysol wipes?  Will we just throw the candy bars into a sterilized pillowcase?  I can’t wait to see all the options erupt on Facebook with all the mommas….yes, I’m on several momma FB local pages….and I’m thankful there was no social media many years ago when I was raising my kids.

And let’s not even begin to talk about Thanksgiving. What will happen to all the 25+ pound birds that are being raised now when the chance of large family gatherings the end of November held indoors with no viable vaccine has current odds of happening between slim and none?

Let’s face it, there will be no magic vaccination ready in October, that’s just another lie….and if we can’t get this virus contained the only certainty is that more people will die….and as they say, that’s just the facts.

With the warm weather we’ve been able to get out and visit with folks outdoors while maintaining our social distance…..sometimes things seem like normal…but that’s only until the cold weather returns and once again we’ll be forced to stay indoors and back to socializing on Zoom, and for me, that’s just a very depressing thought.

So next week, I’ll put away the white pants, as every true New Englander has been taught to do….and break out all fall decorations from the basement and visit the local nursery to buy some big mums to plant next to the haybales and pumpkins I’ll get from a local farmer….and I’ll try not to think about how much this season will be different this year.

I will try hard to count my blessings, for I have many….and not to dwell on all that we’re missing…but I also need to acknowledge that it’s hard, and sometimes the most difficult part is giving myself permission to take the time to acknowledge that things are upside down right now.

Stay well and stay safe my friends and above all else be kind to yourself, remember, these are not normal times and somehow, we’ll get through this mess!

Today the world lost Priscilla, my dear sweet mother-in-law. I met Priscilla six months after I started dating her son and the first thing she said to me was “Jeff tells me you have daughters”, and on our ride home Jeff told me that before we left she pulled him aside and said, “don’t you lose her”. Priscilla had a way about her that made people instantly connect with her, it was her smile, her demeanor, and her sincerity that drew people in right away.
Priscilla was the only child of Fred and Rowena, she was born in 1925 and in 1931 she suffered the unimaginable loss of her sweet dad, Fred who passed away after a tennis accident resulted in an infection. This was in 1931, before the antibiotics we have readily available today. Rowena and her young daughter developed a very strong bond that helped them both get through a very difficult time, When Priscilla was 14 her mother remarried and along with her new step-father came a 14-year-old step-brother. Priscilla and her step brother remained close friends until his passing many years ago.
Priscilla met the love of her life, David, at a church youth fellowship group held at the Congregational church in Brockton that catered to the newly immigrated Swedish population, both Priscilla and David’s mothers were first generation Swedes. The young couple were also in the same Physics class in high school and attended the same dancing school. After they both graduated from High School, Priscilla attended Simmons College in Boston and David went to complete his education at Norwich Academy in Vermont. With the outbreak of WWII, David’s classes were cancelled and he eventually found himself enlisted in the Coast Guard until the war ended. In 1947 they were married. They moved back to VT so David could complete his education and on their first anniversary they welcomed their first son Jeffrey. She would always tell me that his arrival was the best anniversary gift she ever received.
In the years that followed two more sons arrived and Priscilla and David’s cape style post WWII home in the suburbs was full with three boisterous boys and the coming and goings of the neighborhood children. Priscilla enjoyed her days when her sons were young, she gave back through volunteering her time at the boy’s school and as a den mother.
When the boys were still quite young, Priscilla and her mother purchased a cabin on the water on Sawyers Island in Maine outside of Boothbay Harbor. It was there Priscilla and her mother along with the three boys would spend their entire summer with the husbands coming up on the weekends and for a two week stay during the summer. The boys enjoyed picnics, boat rides, hikes, lobster bakes, and freshly baked berry pies. An idyllic childhood memory for these three boys.
There came a time when the boys grew and moved out and began families of their own and ultimately the addition of five grandsons. The grandsons loved spending time with their grandparents who by this time had retired to New Hampshire. It wasn’t unusual to see all five boys camped out overnight on the floor of the living room after an evening of playing Up and Down the River and Tripoli with Gramma. They cherished her and she had a special spot in her heart for each of them.
Once David retired, they set off to see the world. They purchased a Road Trek van and hit the road. They would be gone from NH for about 5 months a year visiting friends and relatives, birding, visiting National Parks and exploring the USA. Their longest trip was when they drove to Alaska. Along the way they would meet fellow campers and very quickly strangers became friends. They also did a fair amount of international travel usually with the tours that included lots of hiking and lectures. In the 7 months they were home in NH each year, Priscilla continued her tradition of volunteering at the local theater and library.
Priscilla said she loved having me in the family because there just weren’t enough women, she would say that we were surrounded by men and she was right! When the great grandchildren began to arrive, after two great grandsons, she welcomed her first great granddaughter. She had a special place in her heart for all the great grands but I suspect there was a bit of favoritism towards the girl.
We loved to spend time with them in NH and when we vacationed together in South Carolina. We enjoyed their ritual of popcorn and wine before dinner and playing games after dinner. Priscilla was a great bridge player and nothing gave her greater pleasure than playing games with her family.
The last few years of Priscilla life were challenging with battling the ailments associated with aging. She was optimistic and upbeat and usually the staff’s favorite patient. These past few months were especially difficult due to Covid-19, she couldn’t see her beloved David in person, but they talked almost every day. Thankfully they were able to spend a little time together in the past few weeks. In one of her last conversations with her son a few days ago after having trouble reaching her husband, she told him “tell dad that I miss him and that I still love him”. In just 2 days they would have celebrated their 73rd anniversary, a milestone very few people attain.
So tonight, a bright light has been extinguished with the loss of Priscilla, I’ll miss her smile, her warmth, and her love for her family and I know her spirit will live on in the lives of all who loved her.