My Saving Grace

As the year winds down to a close, my birthday and the holidays approach. Feeling exceptionally gratified to have been spent quality time in Bermuda this year, I cannot help but long for a little more. Sure, it feels self-indulgent, as all modes of therapy do. 

Without question, any place that fills the soul is invaluable to each one of us. Oddly, the Northwoods of Minnesota have a similar impact on me- the utter antithesis of Bermuda. I was fortunate to spend time there this year, too. Getting snuck in a snowdrift, when venturing off on my own, to take a picture in The Superior National Forest- another unforgettable moment of 2018!  Both places bring out the "true me." Call me a paradox.

Without my mom here this Christmas season (known to many as Mrs. Claus), the upcoming month or so is a bit daunting for my tight-knit family. My mom passed away on Christmas Eve last year, so consequently we will have the 'anniversary' and the 'holiday' together. It is safe to say that there is a thread of 'dread' in the air... Although, we are trying to mitigate it.

My mom was the essence of Christmas, in every way. She loved to decorate, to bake, to shop, to wrap with beautiful bows and tinsel, to mail packages with retro stickers on them, to entertain her friends with delicious meals, to play Joan Sutherland, Andy Williams, Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby... 

She loved snow, and everything Nordic. On our way to the airport, after a second opinion at Mayo Clinic, she delighted in visiting alpacas on a farm in Minnesota; it was below zero- just her climate. Alpacas were her favorite. Even once confined to a wheelchair (her nemesis!), she would insist on surveying the snow falling, with the front door wide open. 

Marlys was probably the last living lady who made real, old fashioned fruitcake- doused with Whiskey- for her friends every year, teaching us how to cut up the candied cherries at a very young age. Come late November, she would say, "It's fruitcake weather!" We would put "The Nutcracker" soundtrack on, and get to work. Little Daisy was especially fond of making fruitcake every year with her Grandma. 

Alas, we are now grappling with what to do... which Christmas decorations will we put up? Which traditions will we execute? Which elements can we cope with, and which will be excruciating? Can we get out the Scandinavian trolls, and if we can't, is that a bad thing? 

Today, I came across a photo of Marlys' (dreaded) walker, with a basket full of wooden trolls on the front. What a bittersweet, yet heartening image. Nothing would stop my mom from carrying out tradition- only God...

Some advise that it is healthy to "feel your feelings" of grief; yet, how do you balance bathing in your emotions, with wanting to hide under a blanket, until the holidays pass? One wants to honor his/her loved one, and simultaneously protect one's self. But, it seems to me that these two things do not gel perfectly.

How can we go to a public hospice tree lighting, and hear our mother's name called out- in the cold winter air? I wind up wondering what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'...questions with no answers. 

My grief counselor tells me for us to do things that we find meaningful, and to 'make a plan', so that Christmas does not creep up and swallow us.

Yesterday, Nina and I had a good talk about how to approach the coming days. At first, she did not want any fragrant Evergreen in the house; but, we have decided to get a Christmas tree. 

We used to decorate the tree on my birthday, but that won't be an issue this year. Neither of us can bear to look at memory-laden ornaments, so we will do what we did the year after my father died, and use only lights; I hope to find the periwinkle blue ones. 

In lieu of the two pine wreaths that we had in our front windows, I have found 2 fabulous wreathes made of driftwood. We are both negotiable on the color ribbons that will hang down; a little glitz would be okay. Red is not a necessity.

Can we bake? That might be "trigger city"(a term that we, ourselves, coined). My mom was the ultimate cookie lady. She would serve only homemade cookies: Meringues with green or red sugar, Sugar cookies with sprinkles and red hots, Bourbon Balls, hand-painted Gingerbread, shortbread, Krumkake, Rosettes, Snowballs, and Cowboy cookies- to name a few. 

Marlys would be devastated to learn that her Kitchen Aide also passed away- not long after she did. Perhaps she needed it, in Heaven... The timing is a little odd!?!

Can we smell those traditional recipes baking? Time will tell. Can we go shop for gifts, when joy seems a bit out of reach? We are taking it, as it comes.

Yesterday, after a frigid cold spell, we had a delightful day of 50 degree weather. Nina and I considered that perhaps it was time to put lights on the tree out front. It was the first time that we had done it together. Her ex-husband had done it, in years past. 

Despite our misgivings about "holiday prep", we teamed up and bravely went outside to the chubby pine tree that grows outside our living room windows. It was actually quite amusing, laughing about "male" and "female" ends of light strings. Who conceived of that lingo (ha ha!)? 

I must say that we did a beautiful job! Yet, just when we were feeling so self-satisfied- for riding our wave of grief like heroines- our cynical neighbor across the street shouted "Guess you're not wasting any time getting your lights up!!!!!" 

Gee. It was one of those moments when you just want to say, "Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking?" Here we were, sadly triumphant... only to be condescended to- by someone who does not know us- or know that our mother is still MRS. CLAUS. This would NEVER happen in Bermuda.  

So, it was decided. Nina and I will go to K-Mart and fill our yard with the biggest, gaudiest, tackiest Christmas decorations we can find- including plenty of the inflatables-and put them up in the FRONT YARD. ASAP. They will remain up until Valentine's Day!

Irony. Even amidst the bittersweet moments, there can be laughter- thank goodness!

This year, of all years, the biennial Christmas Boat Parade in Bermuda will take place on my birthday... the one that I have always wanted to see. 

Nina tells me that I am an utter fool not to go, especially since it floats right by Salt Kettle, my home away from home. Mind you, Nina has an agenda of her own; she is out of her favorite Marks and Spencer Camomile tea! Yet, even John Lowe has e-mailed to say, "Are you coming home?" 

This year has been so hard, yet so rich. The kindness of close family, old friends, a grief counselor, and new friends- whom I have met in Bermuda- have buoyed me. 

Granted, Marlys would not have endorsed my climbing aboard a moving cargo ship this year. But, I'll bet she is giving me points for other steps that I have taken- "one foot in front of the other", as she instructed. 

During her illness, when she would speak to me, she would start sentences with, "When you fly..." She had visions of my future, all along- perhaps not realizing that I loved being home with her, as much- or more- than breaking away, despite my adventuresome streak. 

I believe that Marlys is watching down on us. She knows that we will make Swedish Meatballs and Lefse for Christmas Eve. The antique wooden tree will be lit on the table, with four of us traditionalists around it. We will toast with Aquavit. 

Perhaps we might have a fresh Bermuda rum cake for dessert this year, or an authentic British pudding? She would approve, so long as we top it with homemade whipped cream.

Oddly, had I not taken my family to Bermuda for Easter, they would not have staged an intervention with me- sparking repeated returns to Bermuda this year. 

Remarkably, on a lark, I started writing a blog, of all things- that wound up being viewed nearly 9,000 times! 

If I was a true "influencer," I would return to Bermuda, in order to reach 10,000 by 2019, right?

Nina makes a point to continually remind me- regarding this very painful year- "Bermuda saved you!"

Time to fly?