Yesterday I was sitting in the vet's examining room with my puppy, Aspen. I'd finished filling out the paper work and was looking at the photos of the animals on the wall...All of a sudden I saw a photo of Sunrise, my previous dog, in her older years.
There she was, lying with her head on a big fleece bone that she always used as her pillow. From the time she was a puppy I called her "pillow girl" because she'd always find a way to put her head on a pillow!
Have you ever gotten a whiff of an aroma that takes you back to a time in your past?
Tonight, as I opened a jar of molasses, I was transported back to another time and place.
For most of my life, the centerpoint of Christmas was the family coming together to build a gingerbread house from scratch! No kit...just a brown grocery bag that we used to make the templates for the various pieces of the house.
When I was young, the houses were fairly simple one room houses. As my brother and I entered high school and then college, the designs got more interesting! One year we attempted a two story Victorian...we refer to that house as the earthquake house because it's shape shifted a bit during execution! One year we built a house to match the vacation home we were planning and later we broke the mold completely to create a merry-go-round.
The first step was to mix the dough and place it in the refridgerator to chill. 24-48 hours later we'd roll out the dough and trace the pieces of the house. After we baked the pieces, they'd sit for a day or two to harden. And finally, with loads of powdered sugar frosting on hand, we'd start the decorating the pieces and assembling the house.
This production was a family affair...my Mom, brother, and I would come together for each step of the process....When we came home from college and graduate school, we'd gather in the kitchen to catch up with each other's lives. As I write this I just remembered, my letter of acceptance to college arrived as we were assembling the house! I remember my hands were completely covered in frosting as I opened the envelope!
In addition to being a centerpoint of our holiday decorations, the gingerbread house was also an important ritual for welcoming in the New Year. We waited with anticipation as January 1st arrived. Finally we could take our first bite!
Just one whiff of molasses takes me back to my favorite holidary ritual in one heart beat!
What is your favorite holiday memory or ritual?
Is there an aroma you associate with a strong family memory?
Take a moment to revisit your past...enjoy your memories.
Today, Dec 11th is the 20th anniversary of my father's death.
As I mentioned in my latest Transition Dynamics newsletter, it boggles my mind to think that it's been 20 years!
Twenty years ago I had was in the middle of a whirlwind of transitions - I graduated from Purdue University with my PhD in August, the same weekend I landed my first corporate job in Califonia. Then within a couple of weeks I relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area (just an hour away from my parent's house), purchased my first car, rented my first apartment and started work.
All the while, my father's health was dwindling...first it was unexplained pain in his legs, then we discovered his cancer had spread to his bones. One day in September he tripped and it was only three weeks later during a scheduled xray that we learned he had broken his leg near his hip. The only remedy was a hip replacement, but he was so anemic he had to stay in the hospital a couple of weeks before he was strong enough for the surgery.
My life was beginning...just as my father's appeared to be ending. As a brand new employee, I didn't have much personal time or vacation time to work with. I had to handle the emotions the best I could while attempting to be productive at work. I remember feeling numb most of that fall.
Ultimately my father didn't recover from his hip replacement...Although the surgery eased his pain, his body was too weak to rally. In less that two months it was clear the end was near.
In a way that was totally consistent with his personal style, he systematically reach out to each of us to say goodbye. We were all truly blessed to be able to have this opportunity for closure.
The second week of December after commuting to San Francisco for a three day training, I happened to run into my boss's boss backa t the office and he asked how my father was doing. In response to my answer he said, "What the heck are you doing here! Go see your father!" Thanks to that short, impromptu conversation I was able to see my father one last time.
Less than 12 hours after I returned to work my father breathed his last breath.
My dance with the beginning of my new life and the ending of my father's life continued. For several years I was consumed by my loss. My healing journey was one of self-discovery that ultimately led to my work supporting others in navigating difficult losses.
