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End of September into October ... 8 days in The Twilight Zone while my big sister, Paula, stayed in the hospital, her life fading away from stupid tumors on her beautiful brain. As I wrote in the last snippet, Paula died October 5th ... the worse day in our family's life ... and the days since have not been exactly peachy. The grief is top-heavy and wants to suck me into the earth. I give in to it as it ebbs and flows like the tide - and stay distracted for the remainder.
Walking in and out of Paula's room in that hospital in Abington, Pennsylvania, during those 8 days, we often took emotional breaks from staring at her non-responsiveness to sit across the hall in the Family Room. Sometimes alone, sometimes with our sibs and nephews, sometimes with our brother-in-law Doug, or cousins and friends. Sometimes all of us sat 'waiting' simultaneously.
Next to the Family Room was a door marked with a simple blue & tan sign reading NOURISHMENT (the sign I included here) which led into a small kitchen containing an ice & water machine and a refrigerator stocked with tiny cups of vanilla and chocolate ice cream, Italian ice, apple juice, yogurt, and other "nourishment."
I was watching my sister die. It was miserable. Unacceptable. Unbelievable. Unreal. Upsetting. That experience has been the least favorite part of my 64 years as an Earthling.
So each time I walked into the NOURISHMENT room to fetch Paula fresh water & ice (or a cup for myself), or to nab yet another cup of free ice cream, I imagined it was a MAGICAL ROOM. And that walking through its door would give me the bravery, power, resilience, and "nourishment" needed to muddle through Paula's unbelievably heartbreaking experience. And that possibly, the MAGICAL NOURISHMENT ROOM could somehow deliver Paula a colossal miracle and that she would perk up, be healthy, scramble out of that hospital bed, and walk the hell out of there.
Hmmmm, well, that didn't happen. And our lives are forever altered. And it SUCKS rotten smelly eggs. And we hate the ending to her story. And it's rough ... a doozy. And not even 100 more tiny ice cream cups would make it better.
Yet I must - and will - walk into scenes, situations, locales, and mindsets that will nourish me, perk me up, and provide the bravery and energy to walk through this grief.
I am writing from our Florida home on a two-week respite from sadness. After Paula left us October 5; as I told you, so did our sweet little Uncle Joe Molino on October 25 - my papa Louie's little brother. Another unexpected hit. The day after Uncle Joe's funeral Mass and burial, I hopped on a plane in search of nourishment. Nourishment is free, too, like those tiny ice cream cups. After an extremely emotional month, I was oh-so-primed to march out of October into November.
Without a doubt, I knew this radiant tropical area with its flamingo vibe, beaches, sunny skies, and warmth would be the ideal setting to nourish. With water everywhere, palm trees swaying, sand across the street, glorious sunsets, morning yogahhhh on the beach, sitting quietly on our dock thinkin' and prayin', walking to the coffee house, riding my beach bike, spotting a manatee, cuddling my pup on the deck, sitting by the pool, and swimming ... all would provide the needed NOURISHMENT for my hurtin' soul.
Calm. Breath. Quiet. Beauty. Senses alive. Movement. Sights.
Where is your nourishment room? Your spot? Your place? Your go-to scene? Where can you - do you - sit to gather strength, resilience, and courage to muddle through a hardship? What will you seek to heal yourself?
Remember nourishment is free ... so walk through that door.
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