Today is the 21st anniversary of the death of my friend Angie.
I’m thinking today about what is lost when a person dies at a younger-than-expected age. Angie was 54.
During one of her remissions, Angie and her spouse bought a second home on a lake that was special to their family. Angie told me she imagined grandchildren visiting there some day. I imagined visiting, perhaps with grandchildren of my own.
At the time, our children were tweens and teens.
Now, I have granddaughters, who are far away in London, UK.
I know that Angie’s children have children of their own, although I’m not sure how many or what their ages are. I imagine that they go visit the lake house sometimes. I imagine they tell stories about Angie so that her grandchildren have some inkling about who and how she was, even though she died long before they were born.
I imagine that there are still touches of Angie’s artistic and decorating skills on display.
I imagine that Angie’s spirit is still alive in her children.
Spouse B, daughter T, and I are spending the holidays in London with daughter E, her spouse L, and granddaughters, 8-year-old ABC and 5-year-old JG. The photo above is of ABC and JG’s bedroom window decoration at dusk on Christmas Eve. Dusk comes early in London this time of year!
This is an exciting Christmas for our London contingent because they just moved into their first house of their own a couple of months ago.
Christmas Eve day was largely dedicated to finishing up gift preparation and baking cookies. B and E made lasagna for dinner, a nod to the Italian side of our family and the many years we made lasagna for Christmas dinner to accommodate E and T singing in the choir on Christmas morning because the lasagna could be assembled the day before and baked after church. For dessert, we had cookies and pandoro, an Italian sweet bread which is covered in powdered sugar and baked in a mold so that it can be cut in slices and arranged to look like a Christmas tree. This was not part of the Italian Christmas tradition that made it across the ocean to the US but it was so delicious that we will try to order it next year.
When E and T were young, every Christmas, my parents would give them Fonatanini creche figures. E’s figures were being stored in our basement but, now that she and L have their own home, we took the opportunity to bring them out to them. Here they are on the mantel, with a zebra addition courtesy of ABC and JG!
My parents, known here as Nana and Paco, have both passed away. They both got to know ABC, their first great-grandchild when she lived in the US for her first couple of years before moving permanently to London. Paco got to meet JG just once, when they were able to make the trip over from London a few weeks before he died. I love, though, that the creche figures they gave to E are part of their first Christmas in their new home. It feels as though they are blessing the house and their dear family.
I’m writing this early Christmas morning. Our plans include 8:30 Christmas mass, followed by gift exchange and an afternoon dinner at L’s parents with 20-some family gathering.
Merry Christmas to all who celebrate and wishes for peace and joy to all!
We are finally able to go back to feeding the birds in our backyard, although putting out just seed and not suet in hopes of not attracting bears. (Photo is from a few years ago.)
Spouse B seems to be through most of his symptoms on Day 5, but will continue to mask and isolate at home, while daughter T and I are continuing to be symptom free and are masking at home when we are with each other and when we have to go out in public. (COVID Photo by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash) ***** This update brought to you as part of Linda’s One-Liner Wednesdays! Join us in these brief (usually fun or inspirational) posts! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2023/11/15/one-liner-wednesday-worried-who-me/
I’m sad to report that, despite our best efforts, we finally have a case of COVID-19 in the house.
My spouse B tested positive yesterday. We think he was exposed at an in-person work event on Wednesday.
We are taking precautions to isolate from each other but daughter T and I were both exposed to B before he developed symptoms when he was probably infectious, so it’s a waiting game at this point. We’ll be testing before going out in public and masking when we do to avoid infecting anyone else, in case we are pre-symptomatic.
So far, B has had fever and symptoms similar to a bad cold. Our primary care practice wants to hold off on prescribing Paxlovid but will if his condition worsens over the next couple of days.
I knew our luck would run out one day but I’m upset and worried to have COVID in the house. Because I’ve been reading about it and observing the twists and turns in its history since the beginning, I know that things sometimes go very badly, even in someone who is healthy and up-to-date on vaccines, so…
My poem “Grandpa’s pipe smoke lingers on the stoop” has just been published in Issue 3.2 of The Purposeful Mayonnaise, a Canadian-based bimonthly literary and art journal-platform. The theme for this issue is “Home.” It’s available for free download at the link above. Make sure to view all the amazing art and writing, including an interview!
My poem is part of my currently unpublished full-length collection that centers around the North Adams area and my family’s experiences there. I wrote it during the 2019 Boiler House Poets Collective residency at The Studios at MASS MoCA.
Its original title was “122 State Street.” For those of you who know North Adams and who would like to be oriented physically, the location is right before heading over Hadley Overpass toward Main Street.
This poem is about my maternal grandparents’ home when I was in the lower grades of primary school, over fifty years ago now. Remember that your comments are always welcome here at Top of JC’s Mind.
A few hours after I wrote this post, B, T, and I were watching television when there was a horrible crash behind us. Our newly decorated tree had tipped over! Apparently, the bolts that hold it in the stand weren’t tightened quite enough.
We all sprang into action! B pulled the tree off the floor, T ran to get towels for the water, I pulled back the carpet so it would’t get soaked, T and I got towels down on the wood floor, and T and I held the tree in position so B could secure the bolts.
We got water back in the stand and re-positioned the ornaments and lights which had dislodged. We were fortunate that we only lost three small glass ornaments, none of them heirlooms. There was quite a lot of sweeping up to do, with needles and broken glass strewn about the floor.
Now, the tree looks almost like this again! (Besides the three that broke, a few others are in different places now.)
Joanne Corey 