The Path Forward

I guess you could say this post is about a farewell to life as we know it for one person and his family, and also about new life to come.

My brother-in-law Arnie died two weeks ago. His death came shockingly swiftly after a cancer diagnosis. We were not prepared. 

I have been sad and worried for my sister Laurie. She and Arnie had a tightly knit partnership of a marriage and his loss is heartbreaking.  Laurie lives a hundred miles away from us and her three children have been with her these last two weeks, supporting her and helping to take care of arrangements and all of the paperwork that is necessary when there is a death in the family. I have been in contact with her by phone and texting, but I longed to be there in person.

Arnie's service was yesterday, Saturday. It was a deeply personal service. His seven grandchildren, one pre-teen and the rest in their teens, all participated in the service. One opened the service with a cello solo, one played the piano and sang, they all sang several numbers, and the youngest one played us out on his electric guitar with the song Wipe Out!"  Yes, there was laughter with the tears.  Arnie's two sons delivered the eulogies and shared stories. Arnie was himself famous for his story telling and the large crowd in attendance, full of family and friends from from all aspects of his life nodded and smiled or grinned at the stories they fondly remembered. 

At the lunch reception after the service I finally had a chance to see my sister. We hugged long and hard, and she assured me it would all be all right. As I talked to her and to her sons I could see they they were making a plan for the path forward. I felt the burden of worry lighten off my shoulders.

Yes, there was going to be a path forward. There might be bends and turns in the path so that it may not reveal itself all at once, and there might be some small obstacles and rough patches, but there will be a path moving forward. It will be hard, but she will be OK, and so will her family. 

This morning Tom and I walked in our park in light rain, but now, this afternoon most of the clouds have cleared and the sun is shining through. My heart is lighter, and I can only hope that Arnie's family is feeling some of that lightness too. 

It helps that all around me, in the middle of winter, new life is springing up. Here in the coastal Pacific Northwest there is no "dead of winter". Life is resting but always ready to burst worth. Here is what I mean as seen today in my own garden. 

 Early hellebore. 

 Primroses hardly ever quit. 

 Snowdrops

 Winter blooming hardy cyclamen.

 Witch hazel

 Intensely sweet fragrance from the tiny blooms of Sarcococca. 

 Winter jasmine

 Winter blooming mahonia, loved by the resident Anna's hummingbirds. 

 Candy tuft that likes to rush the season.

 And old rose, not giving up. 

 Shoots, like these of day lilies, emerging from the cold, wet winter soil. 

 Kaffir lily.

 Green buds on the red flowering currant. 

There is a path forward out of the dark of winter, and there are hopeful greetings along the way. 

Be at peace, dear ones.