a moment in january

 i'm looking out over snowy roof tops in newport RI. it's the end of January, cold as can be and the light is a somber whiny afternoon light, pretty but yellowed, muted. 

it's the end of january and i never sent Christmas cards,  i just now made the new years photo calendar that i make for the grandparents ever year. i delayed because there is one less grandparent. i didn't send the cards because how do you say in a short summary card that you lost someone who was a part of you? it seemed too much. so i didn't send the cards, and in the calendar my dad's photo is the only picture in May- his birth month. i never imagined shutterfly would play a role in my grieving process. 

but maybe it's not just losing my dad that kept me quiet this year, from sending out the end of the year card. maybe it's the kids all being grown or near grown and having their own selves to speak from. how can i wrap them up in where they are studying or what sport team they play on. i see their big beautiful selves as so layered and unique and their own, that i don't dare speak for them or try to sum them up quickly. really what comes to mind is awe. how these four people are my absolute favorites, i can't put it into words and maybe i shouldn't. and maybe i don't know where i'd begin to sum up any of it.

this is a strange season in life. i'm past the middle of my own and straddling the generations. i still have kids at home but am losing them as they become adults which is the whole point after all. my parents are having needs and then i'm losing them in death which is to be expected. yet somehow, i wasn't expecting this season of loss in my 50's. 

the thing is it's not all bad. but i'm finding that i need to adjust to a new normal.  a new way of being with my older parents and help them as they experience decline and loss. a new way of being with my kids as they leave home and become adults outside of my home starting their own lives, adventures, separate and appropriately independent. it's so exciting and i'm so overwhelmed with gratitude. 

and i'm left with with a season of looking at me differently. who am i when i'm not the mom of kids at home? what shift in identity is that? what opportunities are waiting? what newness? what is waiting to be birthed? 

the light has gone and a quiet calm has settled over the bald trees and roofs. i watched as the amber faded to rose and then this blue- dusty grey. the lights are coming on in the houses, soon a star will be seen. i think i will send a new year card- maybe this year, no words, only pictures, this year, they will tell their own story.