It's Love, Actually

 

It's Love, Actually

In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril,  Amlodopine,  Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Everybody Knows: Rufus Wainright

Check out the lyrics on this song by Leonard Cohen.  A plague prophesy.

Kath has been off this week, and we have been enjoying the absence of our normal daily routine.  She is, just now, catching up on some school planning and grading,  so I decided I would use my time to offer a few thoughts on holiday planning.  My way.

My Child Bride wanted to make our Thanksgiving and Christmas as "normal" as possible.  An impossible task, given that we will be surrounded by no-one.  We will be, like many of you, alone, severed from our remaining family in Raleigh.

This time of the year can be intimidating for many of us.  We are constantly reminded through television, mostly, that we should be with family and friends.  Sharing meals and creating memories.  For those of us with smaller families, this year is a killer.  

The line between joy and sadness is narrow at best.  In fact, these two feelings often tend to overlap.  Especially during this season.  At a time when we are expected to let loose the past year and bid a warm welcome to the year to come.

Years ago, after I lost my dad, I traveled through many year-ends, saddened by memories that lay too close to my mind's surface to ignore.  Truly, it was only after I married and we had children, that I healed and found real joy in this season.  After those years of dysphoria,  a happier life was a welcome and thankful blessing.

This year has been a setback for me.  

I talked with my poor Kath the other night.  I was remembering that some seventy years ago, my mother and I left Scotland and all of our family, for Canada.  The two of us.  Until we reunited with Dad, she was my family.  And now, and for the foreseeable future, it is Kathleen who is my family.  There are more of you out there like us, I know.   I realize that we can, and do, phone and FaceTime, but we are nonetheless without human contact.  Without touch.  Without the warmth of a family together.  

Thankfully, Kat and I still have a shared love, with all its trappings.  Romance still dominates our lives.  

So she brought home a smallish turkey and intended to make this time as special as those gone by.  She planned for us to sit together last Thursday evening, for an old fashioned Thanksgiving dinner.  The kind we have enjoyed for years.  This girl knows how to make a difference.  She poured her soul into bringing  joy into our home.  She was determined that we normalize our holiday, and she created the best Thanksgiving dinner that equalled any we have ever had.  And for that I will be forever thankful.  

I have not been sleeping well, lately, and it has given me more hours to think.  A dangerous thing for me, I know.  During our calls with the Tysons, I have noticed that Avet, the older boy, has spent less and less time talking with us on the phone.  I know he has more important things to do.  His age and focus drive him to many more exciting things than talking with his grandparents.  Even I know we are boring.

But, thanks to more awake time, I began to devote myself to a plan.  A 4am what am I going to do about it plan.  At that hour, it seemed an infallible plan.  I would like to share a tiny piece with you.

I am not Santa Claus.  I decided that Christmas presents would need to be earned this year.  But, along with some presents, a goodly sum of cash would be made available for his purchase of a costly robot that he has in his sights.  

In consultation with Kath, we have decided that we will give both kids the chance to answer some riddles - obviously less difficult ones for Eli.  I have already created  a number of them, incorporating  humor, research and family involvement.  Additionally, we are adding some fun computer projects, which both boys love.  For instance I will ask them, along with their parents, to perform, to the best of their ability, "The Papa Shuffle", a dance (kind of) that I perform for them whenever the feeling moves me.  Avet and Eli will video the results and present them to us for judgement.  

Another idea will require Avet to encourage his parents to find and play the right music, and dance "The Shag", an old North Carolina dance from the 60's, with which none of us have any knowledge.  The boys have wonderful imaginations and are talented with technology and story-telling.  They, and we, should enjoy their effort, and we should have some fun in the process.

When they have their quiz answers or projects ready, they will need to FaceTime us to pick up their loot.  We have discussed this with Kristin and Doug, and they are on board.  They will need to be, as a number of our ideas are designed for comprehensive family involvement. 

I think it will be fun for all of us.  And we need some more grandkid time.  Thankfully Kris and Doug talk with us every few days already.  And for that alone we are already grateful.  It has been four years since we have seen Stephanie and five years since we were with her children.  As time marches on, we are left bereft of memories of that family.  That is the great sorrow in our lives.

As we are housebound, these days, I would like to offer some viewing and reading choices, for those of you who share our boat.

Watch, for sentiment, the old Grinch Christmas cartoon with Boris Karloff's voice.  You don't need a child to enjoy.  But it might help.

For humor, see Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story.  If you don't speak the funny lines along with the actors, then you have not seen them enough times.

For love in the time of pandemic, watch Love Actually.  It is perhaps my favorite movie of all time, with an all-star cast, multiple story lines and all the love you can handle at Christmas.  Just try and not shed a tear.  It will be impossible.  You will cry for the joy it brings.  I promise.

Read to each other, in small bites, "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas.  A very short story of a different time and place.  And so beautifully written.  Our family had taken turns reading it to each other for so many years - so many years ago.  Not for little kids, but for all the rest of us.  I promise it will become a tradition.  

We were with the Welsh Male Choir on Christmas week, many years ago, in Toronto. At our friends' house, following an afternoon performance, and after our dinner, each member read a chapter or two, until he could, no longer continue.  Watching and listening to these gifted, fun-loving  and joyous Welshmen, with their thunderous voices rising and falling, delivering this written testament to their homeland, was a seminal moment in our lives.  Far from their home, each one took turns reading and crying.  A confluence of joy and sadness.  Never to be forgotten.  

 On the melanoma front, my surgeries are set for December 1st.  We went to Moffitt earlier, for my Covid 19 test.  In my typically convoluted way of thinking, I had made my mind up, that whatever the result, my future would be improved.  If the test was negative, that would obviously be good.  And I could go ahead with my surgery.  If the test was positive, that too would also be fine.  I would have been asymptomatic, and carrying on as normal.  As a bonus, I would not be able to have the operation.  Win-win, no matter what the outcome.

The test was negative.  I am on track for surgery.  I know that it is a necessity, but the wounds and recovery time to come, are not a pleasant thought.  Been there.  Done that.  Too many times already.

As a person with some perspective on life and death, or the nearness of it, I would like to end with some very personal views.  Not right or wrong.  But my beliefs.

During this time of pandemic, we are given ultimatums.  Consistently and continually.  Risk and reward.  Freedom of choice.  Guidelines and rules.  We are, each of us, different.  With different circumstances and concerns.  Some of us believe we will be here for this holiday season and the next.  Some might not be as sure. 

We should make decisions in accordance with our faith and understanding.  We should always strive to do the right thing.  But "right" is not the same for everyone.  Kath and I try to make decisions which will not harm others, but whatever we do, it will be done for our good and that of our family and friends.  I do not want regrets to consume my life's end, whenever that may be.  

Live like you have no tomorrow.  For you may not.

One of my most dear friends died this year.  Consumed by cancer, he declared to his bride that he did not want to leave this planet.  Good news, Tom.  You did not.  I think of you almost every day, as I know does his family.  As long as I live, so too will you.  We continue to share our planet.

For those like me, who continue to battle, fight on.  Slay the dragon that is cancer.  Rise up.

As soon as I am able, I will be back to you.

Love from your Florida friend.