Work and Xmas

Xmas shopping was easy for me this year. A gift for my Steph and her mom (Aerosmith tickets), a gift each for my niece and nephew, Godiva chocolates for Cyn, and I was done. I'm not into the holiday that much, partly because I don't have time, partly because there is too much ghost of xmas past stuff.

Work is better this week, but still exhausting. I've got dark circles under my eyes now. I fell into bed around 1am, got up at 5:15--earlier than I intended. Sleep is a delight, but when I am awake, I am awake. And there is no one to snuggle with, so no reason to stay in my yummy tempurpedic bed.

I had my annual eye exam today. Almost no change in my prescription, no need for new glasses, but I am giving extended wear contacts a try. So far, so good :) When I dressed today, I wore a sweater, a pale pale yellow one with forest-green trousers and one of Grandmother's gorgeous silk scarves.

She was born in LA in 1906, died in 2000. Her closets were full of clothes from the flapper days to the Jackie Kennedy days to present. When she and Grandfather visited the Orient she bought bolts of silk and had them made into suits and dresses in London and Paris. With matching shoes and purses and sometimes even matching hats. She was always very fashionably dressed, even if it was just to walk to the end of the drive to get her mail.

I miss her. We had our conflicts--she knew how I should live my life, and I knew I wanted to live my life and make my own mistakes. She was a deeply religious woman who held on in her later years for reasons I could not understand. But a month before she died, I paid her a visit, and I asked her why she was afraid to die. She cried, and said that she did not want to die until she knew she would see me in heaven. She carried such a burden for me, loved me best of everyone, and it was a burden for me, that love. I asked her what I could do to reassure her. She said, "Do you accept Jesus as your saviour?"

I debated lying to her, but I could not. Even knowing that a lie to her would help her rest easier, I could not. I told her I did not, that I accepted that he was a prophet and a wise man, but that I did not believe that he was the only way into the Kingdom of Heaven--that I believe that all spiritual roads lead to the same place. She cried some more. I took her hands in mine, those fragile, thin-skinned, age-spotted hands, and kissed them. And I told her that I am a good person and that I live my life according to His Commandment, that we love one another. That I love, I love like few people do, and it has to be enough, doesn't it? Because heaven should have good people like me in it, shouldn't it, and God is not no narrow-minded as mankind.

I let her pray over me, one last time, and made the 1000 mile drive home.

A week later she called me. She said she believed that she would see me in heaven, that I was a child of God and that I love everyone and everything just as Jesus commanded, and yes, it was enough. My integrity was intact, and she was at peace. Three weeks later, she died.

I miss her. Especially now, during the holidays.


My thoughts of the day today:

"Love the ones you are with. It is much better than loving the ones you are without."-me

"Life is sexually transmitted."-unknown