I haven’t been on Wild City since I lost my husband, Dave, on August 10.
Dave had a gift for making life-long friends. He had friends from elementary and high school days, and from his first jobs out of college. He made good friends everyplace he went in the insurance industry. Golfing wasn’t just a frustrating pastime for David, it was also a time and a place for cultivating friendship.
During those first numb and shocking weeks after losing Dave, friends stepped up and offered to help.
Again, and again I said, “Thanks, thanks so much, but I’ll be fine.”
I was wrong.
Thankfully, our friends knew I was wrong.
I couldn’t think. I secretly worried that something had happened to my brain. I talked to people and couldn’t recall conversations, I tried to make plans but couldn’t reason, though many issues demanded immediate attention.
Our children were amazing and supportive, even while they were in the middle of their own grief.
Friends and family stepped up for us. Ever-conscious of not being intrusive, they reached out and they helped. They anticipated how deep the water was and took it upon themselves to hold me up, to keep me from drowning.
I hope I can be worthy of the kindness and generosity I’ve experienced. I hope to carry that knowledge into a future where I can be there for others.
Lately, I’ve begun missing my blog, the fun of traveling the neighborhood or the wildlife refuge; the joy of sharing a love for urban wildlife. Yet, I’ve been frozen and unable to understand how I might reconnect with that passion.
A week ago, we had a day of wild fall weather, a beautiful storm which seemed to break the grip of a hot, dry, summer with thunder and lightning, torrential rain, and hail. In the late afternoon the sun came out and a brilliant rainbow spread itself across the sky. I saw it, but it took a sweet gift from our old friend Bruce to give me permission to love it.
Bruce and Nancy have been friends for many years. Bruce sent an email that helped me out of a foggy haze.
“…I have just been sitting on the patio listening to the thunder, watching the rain, smelling the fresh air, and having a drink. So much fun just sitting back, watching, smelling, and listening to nature do its thing while resting my back. The thunder and rain make their own great melody. I decided to check my weather station. Two days ago, we got 0.25 inches in 24 hours. Today we got 0.36 inches in one hour. It sure looked like more when it was coming down.
I feel as though I am waking up, stepping back into this world. While there is still sadness, there are also glorious thunderstorms; and there are friends.
8 thoughts on “Friends and Thunderstorms (With Gratitude for Both)”
Beautifully written and so lovingly stated. It not only brought a tear to my eye, it brought a smile to my face seeing that you had posted. Welcome back dear, dear friend ❣️
So very happy to see you writing again. You have a beautiful way with words and I’m glad you found your voice in spite of the deep pain. Perhaps it will be a balm for your grief. Thanks for sharing.
It is so good to see you are blogging again! You are enduring so much right now, but with the clouds, thunderstorms, rain, and wind also comes the sun! We will be there for you. Keep writing…it will help with the healing.
I have truly missed your blogs! Your love of nature and inspiring words are so refreshing. Thank you for the love you share with us all!
So sorry for your loss. Words can only help to a very limited point. Stay strong and keep writing. Flower beyond the unfortunate things.
Another beautiful essay from you thank you for sharing.
Mom, I can tell you for certain, without a shadow of doubt that you have earned the love and support of family and friends 10X over.
What a beautiful blog and I am also finding comfort and joy in thunderstorms and the beauty of nature. We may be across the world from each other, but it’s only space between us. Love is what connects us. I thank Bruce and every individual that loved Dad. I love you all.
I am so glad to see your writing again. That thunderstorm gave me a wonderful feeling of cleansing. Cleansing of the earth and cleansing of my soul. Thank you for sharing your “look at life” with us.