In Memoriam
The Traveling Mandolin #103
Hello readers!
My kid woke me up at 5am today and is wide awake, munching on a rice cake, so I decided that was my cue to write the newsletter I’ve been putting off for weeks.
It’s been a heavy few weeks. In addition to the state of the world and the U.S. specifically, my life since late January has been marked by a series of deaths. Many are people I don’t directly know— one friend lost her father, another her mother, and the prayer list at church has an alarming number of losses on it— but three in particular are people from my direct circle, and the grief has been a tangled knot in my chest that I’ve been trying to slowly unwind.
So I thought today I’d tell you a bit about each of them, so you can know how they touched the world while they were here.
The first is my fellow Christmas Traditions cast-mate John, who played Clement Clark Moore (the author of “’Twas the Night Before Christmas”) for many years, in addition to a huge number of other theater roles. He would read the famous poem by candlelight at the First State Capitol during the festival, and years ago, I played violin to accompany him. It was always magical to see a room full of adults and children completely enchanted by his recitation: in a world of screens and distractions, it was always beautiful to see that people are still captivated by a simple story. I’m forever grateful that I got the chance to take my own kid to one of his readings this past Christmas season, and even though she was only seven months old, she was mesmerized by him. The whole cast— and everyone who was touched by attending one of his readings— will miss him.
The next person is Ashley, who sang alto with me in church choir. She was only 40 years old, the mother of two, who survived one round of cancer but not the second. She was always quiet, just observing everything around her. She had a gorgeous voice, and although we rarely talked, I was always glad to see her. The alto section feels empty without her.
The third death is my Aunt Beth, my mom’s sister-in-law whose quiet presence was an important part of my life, especially my childhood. She never missed a birthday card or a Christmas present, and I have many happy memories of Thanksgivings and Easters with her and Uncle Rod, and Christmas pageants at my grandparents’ house where she was part of the audience. She patiently listened to more fumbling piano recitals from me and my siblings than anyone should have to. She had a strawberry-themed kitchen and a collection of dolls that I liked to look at, and although she was generally reserved, when she did laugh it was a jubilant, twittering sound, and I always loved to hear it.
We drove to my mom’s hometown in middle-of-nowhere Illinois for the funeral, and left her ashes in the graveyard next to Uncle Rod, and Grandpa and Grandma and Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma. The cemetery was full of birds, the wind rustling in the trees. It’s a good place to rest.
I’m grateful for these three people, who in varying ways touched my life and showed me magic and beauty and care. I will miss all of them, I write, and it feels inadequate, but sometimes it’s difficult to find the words for loss. Sometimes you just have to feel it somewhere in your chest, a nebulous ache.
What I wrote this week:
A review of an autobiography by Zora Neale Hurston called Dust Tracks on the Road, as well as some board books recs courtesy of my kid.
What I’ve been reading/watching/listening to:
• I just finished Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger by Soraya Chemaly, which was an emotionally difficult read, but also very, very good. Full review coming soon.
• In the middle of Everything Is a Story: Reclaiming the Power of Stories to Heal and Shape Our Lives by Kaitlin B. Curtice (thought-provoking), as well as Awake: A Memoir by Jen Hatmaker (sad but beautifully-written).
• We finished the show Twin Peaks (what the heck was that ending? David Lynch call me I just want to talk), and decided to go for something lighter next, so we’ve been watching the sitcom Community, which is a lot of fun.
Featured post from the archives:
“Fasting is not about making a show, beating ourselves up, folding every inward in the search for asceticism and personal piety. It’s a pouring out of our resources— compassion, energy, time, money, food, shelter, power, privilege— that creates abundance for others.”
Five years later, this blog post still sums up my feelings about the Christian season of Lent. I’m actually memorizing this passage of Scripture right now, which has been a good way to try to really internalize the ideas.
Question of the week:
How do you deal with grief?
~~~
I hope that you find seeds of hope and beauty this week!
Love,
Lisa (aka The Traveling Mandolin)
Sending love!