Even in this usually lighthearted blog, the blogger has her somber moments. It was my sister's birthday last week, if she had lived. I would like to have given her a party. But she died 15 years ago. Sister Lisa and I did not always get along, but blood is thicker than water as they say and there is something about a sibling that isn't replaceable. I've been thinking about her and about my father who died last year and my aunt who died a couple of months ago. The hardest thing about getting older may be all the losses.
But I have a way to deal with this. A little way past Sea City is my favorite stretch of beach where, if I go in the late afternoon, very few people are there. If I walk a half mile or so it's just me, the foaming waves, and the seagulls. With the crashing water to drown me out, I stand on the sandy shore and have discussions with Dad, Aunt Jean, and Lisa. I ask them how they're doing up there and if they're playing cards like we used to down here. I urge them to think of us now and then and stress that I haven't stopped thinking about them. I tell them I'll see them before long. And the waves keep rolling in. There's something eternal about it all.
But I have a way to deal with this. A little way past Sea City is my favorite stretch of beach where, if I go in the late afternoon, very few people are there. If I walk a half mile or so it's just me, the foaming waves, and the seagulls. With the crashing water to drown me out, I stand on the sandy shore and have discussions with Dad, Aunt Jean, and Lisa. I ask them how they're doing up there and if they're playing cards like we used to down here. I urge them to think of us now and then and stress that I haven't stopped thinking about them. I tell them I'll see them before long. And the waves keep rolling in. There's something eternal about it all.
