Being Still

This past week has been somewhat of a blur. Since my last post, we've held Vern's wake, funeral, and committal ceremony. They fell across three separate days; a trilogy giving honor to such a great man. Tuesday evening we held our regularly-scheduled Council meeting and we went out to McCarthy's after wards, as was our tradition. The only difference is that Vern wasn't there. The group was larger than our usual 6-7 people, because more from the Council wanted to pay tribute to Vern. We ordered our usual wings and we all shared a beer ordered in Vern's honor. There were tears, but there was also much camaraderie and laughter which Vern would have wanted.

The days following was returning to work and to "normal". I went through the motions and while at work I tried to live through Vern's example and be kind and patient and understanding with others. I still awake each day with an emptiness and I still find the loss so unbelievable. I am trying to be productive. In the mornings when I awake and dread facing another day, I recall how Ed, while battling cancer and knowing it will eventually take his life, got up and lived each day, never complaining. And Vern, feeling discomfort which ended up being a heart attack which was the start of the end of his life, kept up with his many responsibilities and bounding through the day with his usual positive attitude where no one but him could tell the discomfort he was feeling.  So when I think of this, it reminds me that I need to do the same. To get up each day and live my life to the fullest especially since the ailment I have is a broken heart.

This weekend is full of chores, things that need to get done in the yard and around the house. I've always been one to keep moving because when I don't, grief and sadness catch up to me. That is still happening. I am trying to sit quietly each morning, to enjoy the sunshine, listen to the birds, and just be still while I sip my daily cup of coffee. I'm hoping that if I sit quietly for a few minutes, I will hear Ed or Vern or God (or whatever you like to believe) speak to me. But what I find right now is that when I sit quietly, the loneliness and sadness envelope me. I know tears cleanse the soul and maybe this is just what I need to work through. I'll keep working at it though.

This morning I stopped and sat and watched a bunny outside the window. I haven't seen a bunny in years and so I just sat quietly and watched it for a bit while it ate the clover in the yard. I noticed the goldfinches outside the kitchen window and the robins nesting in two different bushes. I try not to notice instead the things that need to be done and need to get onto my "to do" list. They will get there, but I'm working to slow down, just for a few minutes, and just enjoy the peace and quiet that surrounds me and appreciate it rather than be unnerved by it. And maybe, just maybe, if I can learn to do this, I will also learn to hear the voice of Ed, Vern, or God and recognize them in signs around me. If I can just learn to be still for a moment.