Good Grief

Last year I lost four people who were significant in my life. Mrs. Walker, whose ponies and horses I rode when I first came to Ireland. I adored her for her 100% commitment to her horses (and dogs). Then my Uncle Bill, who was one of the few positive male role models in my life when I was young. He gave me away at my wedding. Then Mariah Fenton Gladis, my gestalt therapist. Nowhere else have I   experienced the unconditional love and compassion that she offered me and all her students. She was an amazing woman and the world is a sadder place without her. Finally, a few days before year end, David Davis died--a former boyfriend. I fell madly in love with him then madly out of love with him, as I am wont to do. I distinctly remember it took me a year to get over our short-lived romance. He was extremely smart, but an idiot savant (his phrase), who didn't understand or respond appropriately to emotions.

I was thinking today about a winter coat that you hold onto for too long. As it gets threadbare it doesn't keep the cold and rain out any more but you just keep wrapping yourself up in it. Getting older is like that. As you lose people, you lose the luxury of wrapping yourself up in a warm coat, as each thread is pulled out of the rich weave of your life. That may be overly dramatic. I haven't had much contact with the four people above in recent years--Mrs. Walker I'd see maybe twice a year. But remembering each of them--the gifts each offered the world--made me very sad as I thought of the world without them. But that makes it a good grief, I guess.

Jan. 6