Heidi ~ May 11

 

I wake up this morning with heaviness on my heart, deep sadness gripping on for its own dear life. I am tired of doom and gloom but it is stuck to me this morning.  Ugh. 

 

I don’t want to go to the memorial, but I want to HAVE gone.  I don’t know how to decide. Disappointment my sister if I don’t. Upset my daughter if I do. (Another story).

 

I tell my sister I want to come to see her in June.

 

“You don’t want to come to the memorial.” More like an accusation than a question.

 

“Well, it would be hard for me and I would rather spend time with you in June.”  I don’t tell her I am too COVID phobic to be in a crowd of 700 people, too sensitive to socialize with even a smaller segment, too exhausted to take the train and stay over and get back the next day, too committed to clients to take the time off and then again in June and then the other complication. I wasn’t close to him. 

 

I miss my sister.  She hasn’t needed me since a few days after he died, surrounded as she is by friends, family, hired helpers. I feel superfluous. Even though she doesn’t need me, I know my absence at the memorial will be marked down in the black book. Not viciously, but noticed. Well, it might be ME putting me in the black book.  

 

I get up to make morning oatmeal and am distracted by the plant I tripped over last night, its rich soil still strewn across the wood floor.  Something has been wrong with her since I brought her home a couple of weeks ago. One by one its beautiful spiked maple-tree-like leaves, with speckled array of shades of green and white have been shriveling and turning an ominous brown.  One by one I clipped them off. Now the top of the stem is brown, I clip that, and another wilted leaf until it is down to just a couple of small hopeful undecorated juveniles. 

 

Somehow returning the soil to the pot, clipping away its decay and debris cheered me up.  Something to care for.  A small, undemanding simple thing.  Not the overwhelming too complex trip to the city.  For now, I will stick with my ailing plant friend who soothes my equally ailing heart.  Love comes in mysterious ways.