Enigmatic Lessons

The charm of history and its enigmatic lesson consist in the fact that, from age to age, nothing changes and yet everything is completely different.”   Aldous Huxley  

Life handed us a lot  to accept and learn from this summer:  I lost my beloved brother, we moved, we saw Oscar through a very painful injury and traumatic doctor visit, we lost our cat of 17 years, and I seem to have lost a friend of 10 years to a mistake I made while in mourning during our move.  We are also seeing Oscar off to kindergarten which symbolizes the end of little boy in the house, to big boy on the rise.  I wish that I could write down a wise analysis of all we have gone through, but my mind has never been capable of that.  I guess it is time to accept and move on, how is that for wisdom?

 My brother’s death still takes my breath away, literally.  I will be driving down the road or performing some other task conducive to daydreaming and I will be thinking about a visit to MN, or an upcoming holiday and I realize he will not be there.  At times it is so painful that I need to stop driving, stop cooking, stop walking and try to breathe.  He really is gone.  The pain is so real, still so raw.  Time, I keep telling myself.  I just need more time.  That will help, I know, but as my mother said, a large piece of us is now missing and that empty spot down deep in our heart and soul will never fill.  It will always be empty but eventually it will no longer cause us so much pain. 

Losing my ‘life cat’ was difficult to say the least.  Zooey saw me through my twenties, my years of self discovery and eventual maturation.  She was a loving little critter, full of purrs and head butts.  She would come to Ian and I every night and snuggle up to us, waiting each day for that quiet time when the kids were asleep to come out from hiding and get her daily dose of love.  We miss her terribly at night and from time to time I wake up and think I can hear her asking to come up on the bed or I hear her purring along side me.  She will be buried alongside Chelvis, the only dog she loved. 

When you give up you seem to receive in abundance … well … sometimes you do.  We did this week when our house made a giant step closer to feeling like our own.  Katie and Jesse, my neice and nephew, came and painted murals in the boys’ room.  You can see their rooms on our flickr account.  It is worth the look.  To have their artwork and love back in our home was very important to both Ian and me.  One of my dear friends pointed out that their bedrooms will now shape how Oscar and Alban experience and think about art.  It will, and to have my neice and nephew do that for them in such an amazing way means so, so much to me.  Living with something so amazing in our home has truly brought us joy and comfort. 

Oscar’s upcoming first day of Kindergarten has been the topic de jour at our house.  I will hear him say, “O.K., you can be a super hero and I will be a Kindergartener.”  Super powers to all of them, reading being one power he is so excited to acquire.  I am sure I will be writing more about this transition next week.  Right now it still seems surreal.  Today we head off to Muir Elementary School for his “meet and greet”.  Excitement abounds!