I am dating a man who has toddler. She loves bacon above all other major food groups, and she's also incredibly adorable and smart and polite and all other things people should be. Basically, we could be (and are) friends with her.
Last night, she was pointing out and naming the ornaments on my Christmas tree.
My grandmother gave me gorgeous crystal ornaments about a decade ago. Paired with white lights, it makes a very simple, but elegant, tree.
To the toddler, any bird that is not easily recognizable (chicken, peacock, flamingo) is a duck. My exquisite hummingbirds are "ducks." She mistook pineapples for apples, but, hey, at least it's fruit. Bells she got right on the first try. (I told you she's smart!)
She called one of my angels a "bumblebee," and I burst into tears.
*
Several years ago, my mother's godmother was diagnosed with cancer. She was in such pain that she refused food, and then water. She died very quickly, as one can imagine.
When my mother visited to say her final goodbye, she asked Margie how to still feel her presence, after Margie had moved to a world without pain.
Margie always loved butterflies, so she told my mother that whenever a butterfly floated by, my mother would know Margie was there.
*
You hear this a lot. For a period of time after a person dies, his/her loved ones see bunnies everywhere. Or hear a woodpecker. Or lights are turned on or off, inexplicably.
*
Anytime I see a butterfly, I think of Margie. She was an incredibly sweet soul. Her husband is one of my grandfather's oldest friends, which means that he and Margie were likely my grandparents' oldest "couple" friends. Both of my grandparents were devastated when she passed, so suddenly and with so much suffering.
*
So there are angels on my tree. Angels my grandmother gave me when Margie still lived. And here's a little girl, saying "bumblebee," and suddenly I feel angels present. I feel my grandmother's presence, decorating my home in warmth and light; I feel my mother's presence, loving me from 1000 miles away.
And I see this little girl, this shining, beautiful creature of goodness, and I am reminded of all things Christmas is meant to be.
And I weep tears of gratitude.
Last night, she was pointing out and naming the ornaments on my Christmas tree.
My grandmother gave me gorgeous crystal ornaments about a decade ago. Paired with white lights, it makes a very simple, but elegant, tree.
To the toddler, any bird that is not easily recognizable (chicken, peacock, flamingo) is a duck. My exquisite hummingbirds are "ducks." She mistook pineapples for apples, but, hey, at least it's fruit. Bells she got right on the first try. (I told you she's smart!)
She called one of my angels a "bumblebee," and I burst into tears.
*
Several years ago, my mother's godmother was diagnosed with cancer. She was in such pain that she refused food, and then water. She died very quickly, as one can imagine.
When my mother visited to say her final goodbye, she asked Margie how to still feel her presence, after Margie had moved to a world without pain.
Margie always loved butterflies, so she told my mother that whenever a butterfly floated by, my mother would know Margie was there.
*
You hear this a lot. For a period of time after a person dies, his/her loved ones see bunnies everywhere. Or hear a woodpecker. Or lights are turned on or off, inexplicably.
*
Anytime I see a butterfly, I think of Margie. She was an incredibly sweet soul. Her husband is one of my grandfather's oldest friends, which means that he and Margie were likely my grandparents' oldest "couple" friends. Both of my grandparents were devastated when she passed, so suddenly and with so much suffering.
*
So there are angels on my tree. Angels my grandmother gave me when Margie still lived. And here's a little girl, saying "bumblebee," and suddenly I feel angels present. I feel my grandmother's presence, decorating my home in warmth and light; I feel my mother's presence, loving me from 1000 miles away.
And I see this little girl, this shining, beautiful creature of goodness, and I am reminded of all things Christmas is meant to be.
And I weep tears of gratitude.
Just lovely.
ReplyDeleteLove your writing, my friend.
ReplyDelete