Pockets of joy

They pop up, even in the midst of grief

<Welcome to Sandwich Season, adventures in middle age, sandwiched between aging parents and growing children ... and other duties as assigned.>

Hello everyone—

Yesterday I ran across this quote: “Grief comes in waves and hides in pockets” (Thank you, Janice Walton).

Last week I happened on a number of those pockets as my birthday and the first anniversary of my mom’s passing came and went. It had been some years since my mom last baked my favorite cake—graham wafer—and sang “Happy Birthday” in her sweetly off-key way, and I missed her and those moments deeply.

But I tell you what: Last week also brought a series of confluences, coincidences and surprises. Here’s one …

In my previous post, I wrote about how, after my mom passed, my dad and I ended up with a bit of a theme song. You can read the full version of that story and listen to the song here:

The CliffsNotes version is, we experienced a really tough few months as Mom declined, including multiple times when we thought we were saying our final goodbyes and then watched as she rallied back to her relatively cheerful, rosy-cheeked but bedbound state. Of course we were thankful for every extra bit of time with her, but those months were hard on all of us. By the end, we were pretty ragged.

After she passed, after we had taken care of all of the preliminary things that must be done when someone dies, my dad—tongue in cheek—told me that he had figured out a song we should include in her memorial service. Here’s the refrain:

If you're going through hell, keep on going 
Don't slow down—if you're scared don't show it— 
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there …

—from “If You’re Going Through Hell” by Rodney Atkins.

To be clear, my dad was not serious, and we did not include this song in her service.

In last week’s post I took the idea a step further, speculating what my mom, who was decidedly not a fan of country music, might have thought of this song being proposed for her service. I wrote:

But maybe, just maybe, she knew that this song contains a whole lot of British Isles inspiration: The first part of the chorus comes from none other than Winston Churchill, who said, “If you're going through hell, keep going.” The next part comes from an Irish toast: “May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead.”

“See?” I would say to her. “The song is kind of classy.”

A lovely coincidence

Now here’s where the coincidence comes in. Maybe an hour after I posted that story, my phone alerted me to a text and photo from my cousin Katherine.

Here’s the photo, with my highlighting added:

Wall plaque from my grandparents’ kitchen in Saskatchewan.

Katherine reminded me that this blessing plaque had hung in our grandparents’ kitchen—the Saskatchewan kitchen in the house where my mom grew up! I had completely forgotten about it.

“Grandpa McKinnon always got a kick out of it,” she wrote. “I bet your Mom and Grandpa are smiling down on you all today.”

I’m guessing she was right.

All my best to you and yours,

Sarah

P.S. See below for another pocket of joy.

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Another pocket of joy

Getting out for a sunset ski on my 55th birthday. Life is good. (Thanks, Jon, for the ride—and sister-in-law Mary for documenting it!)