Local beets topped by mixed greens and local goat cheese with a lemon vinaigrette, plus grilled rock shrimp. Yum!
Last night I dressed in my favorite black jeans topped by a green silk shirt and my knee-length festive beaded cardigan, and walked downtown to treat myself to dinner. Today is my birthday, but my favorite Salida restaurant, Laughing Ladies, is closed on Tuesdays, so I celebrated early.
I’m in a celebrating mood. For one thing, it’s a minor miracle that I’m here at all. I’m 56 years old, an age no one would have bet on me reaching three decades ago when I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease then considered fatal.
For another, I’m managing to keep my balance and sense of humor in the Herculean task of getting my dad organized and ready for his move to western Washington at the end of the month. It helps that Dad is good-natured, though I am coming to believe that using “organized” in the same sentence as my very bright but remarkably scattered 84-year-old dad may be an oxymoron.
Aspens flame gold under high peaks with a dusting of late-summer snow in South Park, on my commute to Denver
I’ve made two multi-day trips to Denver so far, and will go one more time next week when the movers come to load Dad’s belongings. It’s a beautiful drive over the mountains, especially at this time of year, but it takes the better part of three hours each way; after each trip, I’m groggy for the next couple of days. Still, back in late August when he decided to make this move, I resolved that if I was going to help him, I’d do it with grace and, more so, would enjoy the time. And I have, by and large. I’m proud of that.
Another reason to feel celebratory is that I’m finally emerging from the fatigue of a string of hard care-giving years, beginning in 2004 with my father-in-law’s death from lung disease.
For the last few months of his dad’s life, Richard and I made the thousand-mile round-trip commute once a month to help with his dad’s hospice care, trips that brought the gift of healing their relationship, strained for decades. Leaving that baggage behind surely helped us the next year when then-26-year-old Molly was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, which she survived thanks to surgery removing both her thyroid and the extensive tumor, followed by treatment with radiation that made her so poisonous she had to be isolated.
Then came a hip replacement for my mom, followed by moving my folks to a new apartment (twice!). 2008 was the year of Richard’s bladder carcinoma, from which he recovered fully, but which motivated us to re-evaluate our lives.
Richard at Lucia Lodge, on Big Sur, last year.
Of course, just a year later Richard was visited by legions of avian messengers, those eerily beautiful bird hallucinations warning of something growing in his brain, and we began our journey–holding hands, as always–with brain cancer.
And then last year. My mother died peacefully at home in early February; Richard in late November, also at home. (I am profoundly grateful to Denver Visiting Nurse’s Hospice, the Veteran’s Administration, and to Angel of Shavano Hospice for caring for all of us.)
As I sat at Laughing Ladies last night, I thought about my birthday dinner a year ago, celebrated with Richard and Monterey friends Laura and Sarah Arnow at Albalonetti’s overlooking California’s Monterey Bay, a dinner made possible by a gift from Nancy and Dave Mayer.
This first solo birthday is milestone on my new path–not the path I would have chosen, but it’s exciting all the same. I’m re-learning who I am at age 56, and what’s most important to me, as I pick my way along.
New moon setting over Mount Ouray.
Tonight is also the September new moon, a celestial beginning. I looked up from writing to see its slender and brilliant crescent shimmering above the peaks in the last glow of sunset.
That’s the moon Richard and I shared for almost 29 years. Seeing it tonight feels like a blessing, its light illuminating my new path. I am fortunate indeed.
Susan, it’s amazing you can have so many intense events in such a relatively short time and keep any semblance of balance. You’re either wiping out a lot of karma or piling up a lot of good karma! *G* In any case, I’m supremely impressed with your ability to cope with it all and I hope that soon you’ll be able to take a deep breath and find some respite. Blissings.
Sam, I don’t know whether it’s karma or just the way the stars have aligned. Either way, I’ve drawn on what I’ve learned from a lifetime of needing to pay attention to myself in order to manage my own particular health and my autoimmune condition. Paying attention and honoring my body’s voice keeps me both honest about what I can really do, and also relatively healthy. It’s interesting how hard it is to honor and love ourselves as we are, and to be diligent about asserting our need to be healthy so that we don’t hurt ourselves. I guess the women-as-caregivers-of-the-world thing runs deep within us, so we respond first, think later. And then we went up hurting ourselves. I have extra incentive to keep myself honest and healthy because my body lets me know right away, and in not very pleasant terms, when I’m not paying attention! Blessings/blissings back to you….
New moon…new year…I am so very proud of you. It has been one hell of a long and hard journey Susan- your life journey of course, but especially these last years-
You are always a teacher and an inspiration-
So much love coming to you as I share the view of the new moon dear Susan.
Happy Birthday hugs dear one
Chery
Doc Chery, New moon, new year, and fall on top of that all, my very favorite season. Joy bubbles through me whenever I think of the gifts this season brings. I can’t wait to snuggle in for some quiet days to enjoy thos gifts of solitude and reflection. Thank you and blessings to you and Miss Maria and the furred and hooved family! Oh, and the human ones too….
Birthday blissings to you, Susan! It is fascinating to walk along with you thru this chapter of your life.
Thank you, Diana! I am fortunate to have you looking in from your South Africa garden. I love getting to pop by your blog and being able to read about what you’re seeing and doing….
I saw that moon while coming home tonight, and thought of you….before I read this post! Beautiful photo, by the way.
I’m so glad we shared that moon, Blanche! May this new moon time bring goodness your way too. Take care of yourself as you prepare for another mom-care immersion….
Happy Birthday! You are in my thoughts a lot.
Thank you, Chery! (Both for the birthday salutation and for thinking of me.) I am happy and finding my path, and fortunate in having the love and support of such a rich and diverse community.
Bless you, dear Susan. Sharing from deep within has blessed me this night.
Susan I, I think of you so often and hope that the beauty of the desert as autumn creeps in is holding you in gentle embrace, soothing your soul. It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? Yet here we are, walking forward, taking joy from the new moon, the rustling of the cottonwood leaves, the sights and smells of autumn. Blessings!
You truly are an inspiration, Susan. Happy Birthday, and may you have the best year yet!
Heidi, Thank you for that generous wish! I’m working on having a great year….
Happy 56th. May you be persistently surprised by joy, this coming year and the years that follow.
Oh, a question: Is there a tern of two new moons in the same calendar month (i.e. corresponding to a blue moon)?
New moon; yet still Held In The Light.
Eduardo, Thank you. I do revel in joy when it bubbles forth! On your question: I don’t know of a term for two new moons in the same calendar month. We don’t give them the same prominence as we do full moons. (The full phase is clearly the charismatic phase; the new moon is more subtle!)
new moon/yet still held/in the light (See, you wrote a haiku without realizing it….)
absolutely lovely…
We are all connected
It’s true, Bonnie. We are, and fortunate indeed to share the moon and the goodness of it!
a very happy birthday, susan.
Thank you, Velma. I think I’ll declare this 56th year a happy one, and do my best to live it that way….
mine (b’day) also my 56th, is coming up in november. a good time in my life.
Velma, My brother’s b-day is in November, too. I hope this 56th birthday opens a year of many blessings for you….
Susan, I was so happy to read this post-the day after your inspirational piece was written.
I am alway energized after reading what you write.
This reminds me to always look forward and appreciate the past from a soft, safe space.
Life goes forward and we should move forward with it…what a beautiful day you enjoyed.
Hugs!
Nancilynn, The way you phrased it, “appreciate the past from a soft, safe space,” conjures up such a strong and lovely image of how to nurture ourselves in a way that our natural tendency to heal is supported and encouraged. Life moves along, and we choose how to respond. As I’ve said before, we don’t get to choose what life brings us, but we can–and this is a choice that gives us great power–choose how we respond to what comes. Finding the joy and beauty in each day is how I find my way toward the light…. Blessings!
A beautiful post–happy birthday! You’ve gone through so many stressful and difficult events in the past few years, and handled them with grace. I hope that the next few years are full of peace, love and beauty.
Thank you, Kathy! Your appreciation means a lot, as does your support and that lovely wish. I am looking forward to finding a more peaceful rhythm to my days once I get Dad safely moved. He’s a dear, but there’s only one of me here in Colorado, and in Washington he’s got a whole family to enjoy and care for him. (He’s also very social, and I am very solitary, so our personalities don’t really mesh well!)
One more time, Happy Birthday wishes for a new kind of year, dear Susan. I got out of breath reading to Casey (he leaves today after coming down for 10 days to help after my heart event) the list of things you have dealt with in recent years. Bless you heart. May the future bring love and light and joy.
Bobbe, Thank you for the multiplicity of wonderful birthday wishes! I am glad that Casey’s been there with you to help you recover from the scary heart event, and I hope your heart continues to heal along with the rest of you as you watch the sub-tropical world do its subtle changes this fall. You’ve got waves of birds migrating your way, which should be pretty awesome to see. Be well, and take life slowly….
A new moon and a new you: What a lovely birthday night of reflection! I saw the moon as I walked out of a tribal belly dance class, tired but exhilarated. The lower sky was still a pale peach color, the upper sky a deep violet, with the little crescent hanging like a decoration. I had to stop and stare.
P.S. I don’t know anyone who has done as much care-giving as you. Now it’s time for Susan.
Lynda, A tribal belly dance class sounds like great fun (and serious exercise). I’m glad it ended just in time for you to spot the new moon. It’s such a gift to see that beginning, especially at sunset with the sky all dressed in its beautiful cusp-of-the-day colors…. I’m looking forward to time for me, after I get Dad moved in two weeks. Then I’ll be the one dancing!
Autumnal Equinox is a wonderful time for finding balance after the harvest, to take inventory of what will help you make it through the dormant times ahead. Although it sounds like the first part of your winter will have a flurry of activity, the time spent evaluating now will likely help the transition to deep winter, when you can nest and recover before spring energy begins.
As always, many hugs.
Diana, Thank you! I love the way you phrased that thought about the autumnal equinox: “time for finding balance after the harvest, tak[ing] inventory of what will help [us] make it through the dormant times ahead.” The metaphor of autumn and winter are so fruitful (sorry, I can’t help the punning!) for our lives. We need to take time on a regular basis to stock of our harvest, whatever that harvest may be, or else we don’t know w hat we have to sustain ourselves. And we need to have times when we slow down, curl up and go inward in order to restore our inner lives, and our balance. I am very much looking forward to that time.
Life is interesting, isn’t it, as we are surrounded by loved ones for a long time and then there is no one. The best thing we can do is celebrate ourselves, as you say here so eloquently, Susan, and move forward with as much grace as we know we have.
Alice
Dear Alice, Life is indeed interesting, and sometimes the challenges seem like more than we can manage, but manage them we do, as you know so well. It’s almost like having whiplash to go from such close companionship to a suddenly solo existence. And yes, we walk forward with all the grace we can find. I think we can be proud of ourselves for that, if nothing else!
Hi Susan,
I hope your celebrating mood carries over when I arrive.
We can toast to all that is good in our life.
Cheers!
Robin, We’ll toast your arrival on Sunday at the Fritz….
You got me going now! Can’t wait..
Dear Susan, the past few years have been very difficult years for you and you have traveled them with grace and dignity. You have also given all of us who love and care about you a wondrous gift. You have shown us by your beautiful example that it is possible for us to do the same.
I too love Laughing Ladies. I remember when the two “laughing ladies” moved to Salida, bought the building, went through the renovation process, and opened with the most marvelous food and atmosphere.
Hugs as you continue on your most amazing journey. Wishing you a very happy autumnal birthday
BTW, Susan, I would love to see a pic of that knee-length beaded cardigan.
Dear Lindy, Thanks to walking this journey with me, and for your support. It touches my heart. As I’ve said before, we don’t get to choose what comes to us in life, but we can choose how we respond. And the latter is what makes us who we are. My choice is to do my best to live with my heart open….
Richard and I first went to Laughing Ladies when it was owned by the original two women. They sold it to Jeff and Margie eleven years ago, I think, and it’s flourished ever since. BTW, it was actually named for Laura’s “girls,” the laughing ladies of the night, who plied their trade a block over on Sackett Street….
When TEDx puts my talk up (notice I said ‘when’ not ‘if’, which just proves I haven’t given up hope!), you can see the beaded cardigan since I wore it that night. It’s subtle rather than flashy, and quite elegant, I think. ;~)