One Year Later

Sunday, November 15 marked the one-year anniversary of my grandmother's death. Maybe because of that I've been thinking a lot about her. Mostly I wonder what she would tell me, what she would say to me these days when I have trouble evoking the motivation and appreciation and gratitude I should possess.

It may be a leap but it reminds me of a story about my grandfather, who died in 1990. One summer day he was sitting in our backyard and someone asked him where he got the feather that was propped in his cap. "From a bird," he said. Of course.

So how does this relate to my grandmother? Again, it may be stretching but if you would ask her how do I get out of this funk? How do I get happy? She would probably reply in the same obvious way: By getting happy. I think she would tell me to get my act together. She would tell me to take a walk, say a prayer, hug the kids. She would say no one said it would be easy. She would say it doesn't have to be so hard.

So once again, as the holidays descend upon me I am getting out the decorations, listening to Christmas carols, planning to bake and entertain and be merry. I am watching the Christmas cactus I was given shortly after my grandmother died as it gets ready to bloom, just like hers did every year. And when it did, she would tell you with delight, the Christmas cactus is blooming. I'm sure there were many years I didn't really listen. After all, I was too distracted with worry about money, work, the kids, the dishes, the house.

But this year, guess what, the Christmas cactus is blooming. And I'm sure my grandmother hears me when I say that.