Sadness and Good Tidings, Mixed

I’m back from a run, and just in time too. We saw little sun today, and by 4:30 darkness was already settling in. Of course, it’s that time of year when — amid all the holiday messages and decorations — we’re also conscious of longer nights, less natural light to enjoy.

The top of our baby grand piano (always a lovely surface, positioned as it is right near the windows) is populated with many cards right now, and they’re an unusual mix. Because we lost our beloved Rocky before Thanksgiving, kind people who care about us and know how hard this experience is have sent us sympathy cards; those are still coming, actually. And of course now is also the normal time for Christmas cards, many with family photos, to arrive. Our veterinary practice sent us two cards, separated in time by just a few weeks. One, over on the left in this photo, is “In Loving Memory”; the other, on the right, has a jolly Santa holding a teddy bear. At first I thought I’d sort the cards and put them in different places, but then I realized that wasn’t necessary. Life is always, in fact, about darkness and light; loss and gain; sadness and happiness; saying goodbye and saying hello. It’s a jumbled business. You can reverse those terms if you like; the truth still stands.

We’re in the season of Advent now, and that, as I’ve come to understand through being married to a clergyman, is about waiting.

Here’s sweet Rocky, sometime in the past year, poised at the window, understanding that I was getting ready to leave the house. This was disappointing (he always loved going for rides), so he’d watch the car go out the driveway and then most likely lie down for as long as he needed to wait for my return. He was one terrific dog, that’s for sure.

The thing is, now he’s the one who’s left us…really left us, too.

My wonderful neighbor Rebecca (mentioned in a previous blog) and her pre-schooler kindly left off the picture book Dog Heaven by Cynthia Rylant — she’s also the author of the wonderful Henry and Mudge series — several days after we bid goodbye to our boy. Maybe you recall reading it, since it was published back in 1995. I’d love to share a page from that beautifully illustrated volume, but I’ll provide a link here: https://www.amazon.com/Dog-Heaven-Cynthia-Rylant/dp/0590417010.

It took me a few days to read it through, tender as I was feeling. But when I did, taking in all those scenes of dogs doing all of their favorite things, watched over by a beneficent God, I was especially moved by the last part. That’s when Rylant shows how our dogs will be there to greet us when we arrive in Heaven. Oh my, what a thought.

Last week, as more and more front yards displayed multi-colored Santas and reindeer, a plain box arrived here. We saw no return address. What was inside, though, showed the thoughtfulness of the sender.

The rock is genuine — Rob says it’s “igneous” — and the name is perfect. We’ll keep it here in the mudroom for a while and then move it down to join the other rocks that ring his burial place, beyond the pond.

Meanwhile, here comes Christmas, just a week away. Two of our three kids will be here, and that’s reason enough for rejoicing. I’ll sit down at the piano, where all the cards are, and play through some carols in the coming week. Getting out the Fireside Book of Folk Songs, the same one my Canadian Granny used to play from, sitting ramrod straight on the bench, will bring me some comfort and maybe even joy.

I hope that the Hannukah week just over filled the hearts of those of you who celebrated, and wishing others a wonderful light-filled Christmas to come. I know that we all yearn for Peace on Earth as we are all soon to turn the calendar to another New Year.

Thank you, as ever, for supporting this blog, dear readers! Please feel free to leave any thoughts about the future and your particular vision in that direction.