As I sit in my office/studio upstairs looking out on snow-covered fields, it’s nice to see sun in the sky, a cardinal in the tree across the driveway, and spots of earth on the lane that will make coming and going to the house easier with fewer icy patches. It’s almost three weeks into the New Year (2025) now, and I find myself eager to get moments and events of 2024 written on my neglected blog before I sweep them under the rug of my memory.
What can one say about the passage of time? Inevitably, many things that nurture the soul and bring great joy come to pass, and inevitably, events that one could do without permeate the days, weeks, and months. There’s nothing profound in that assessment, except life’s moments create our memories - those that fill our hearts with unadulterated joy and those difficult, sad times that heavily dwell in the heart.
Let’s start with the downers and end on a note of joy and delight:
Losses are a part of life and remind me of the importance of long-lasting, loving, soulful connections, as well as the impermanence of our lives on earth.
Late in the spring, I received a call that Dean Myers passed away. Dean lived down the road from me when I lived in Advance NC, and taught in Winston-Salem from 1976-78. He was a handyman for everyone in the neighborhood, and though he worked at RJ Reynolds full time, he always had time to help on the farm where I was living with my horse-loving roommate, doing everything from mowing the fields to helping with the horses. He’s the only person I know who ever went to bat for me when he thought someone was trying to make unwanted advances, and in doing so, he broke his fist on his cousin Buck’s jaw for what Dean deemed as not nice behavior. He later took his first flight to visit me and Sam in New Orleans. Imagine a big, burly NC farm boy running down the airport aisle, jumping with exhilaration as he approached to share the news that Leon Spinks (who was going to fight in NOLA the next night) was on his plane. He had such a good time in the city, becoming NC’s first champion for Popeye’s Chicken. Dean’s love of life was pure and innocent, even when a farming accident destroyed his foot and led to years of pain and medical problems. He supported me during my divorce, called me many times with a tidbit of news from. NC, kept me up to date on his tracking dog, Roscoe, and unfailingly shared his friendship and love. I last spoke with him a couple of days before he died. He was in a nursing home, suffering from sepsis from his foot, as well as congestive heart failure. He didn’t talk much at all that last phone call; I told him I was grateful for our friendship…. And then he was gone. Humble, funny, talented, country as all get out, loved by everyone who knew him - Larry Dean Myers from Advance, NC. And boy, oh boy, he could cook some really tasty BBQ!
In June of this year, my beloved corgi, Mac, passed away, just shy of his 14th birthday. I’ll write about him in time because despite the passage of 6 months, I still grieve his loss. I just can’t find words that aptly describe what that little guy meant for me. Memories induce a flood of tears, and the grief overcomes me. He and I had 14 years alone together here at the farm, and I miss him every minute of every day.
Then Hurricane Helene hit western NC in late September, and the beloved mountains that are not prepared for the fierce weather that belongs over water, along coastlines and in the gulfs, got socked with days of incessant weather, flooding, landslides. The unimaginable strength of the storm brought death and destruction to the area unlike any natural disaster beforehand. Today, I saw a list of over 500 names of people who have never been found; people who have lost everything are at the mercy of those who continue bring them services and supplies; many families are still living in tents, despite the cold weather, and the land is so rearranged that geologists anticipate it will take centuries for the land to modify and strengthen again. One of my college roommates and her husband lost everything in their home in Lake Lure, and my childhood friend (since 1st grade) Shirley Ray, died in her home.
Shirley, who was much like a sister, became friends in 1st grade at Appalachian Elementary School in Boone, NC. We both liked sports and were the “tomboys” of our class. Her mother, Clara, would eventually become the second mom to a group of girls who stayed together as Girl Scouts for 12 years. Every week, we’d have a meeting at Shirley’s house as we planned and worked toward a trip to the Bahamas our senior year. Nerdy scout uniforms, bake sales, garage sales, Girl Scout cookie sales, and day camp defined our sisterhood, and we have never disbanded. To this day, most of our troop stays in close contact. So in November, six weeks after the hurricane, some of gathered again to say goodbye to Shirley. Her health had been bad for a long time, and she required 24//7 oxygen. In the last couple of years, she and I had been in close contact as she prepared for her passage. She knew her life would be short lived as a result of lung and heart conditions, but I don’t think either one of us thought she’d never make it back to Boone. And then, the hurricane hit, caused a power outage, and her oxygen support was cut off. I had spoken with her on Wednesday before the storm can sweeping over the mountains. I tried to get her to leave her house and take shelter, but she wouldn’t leave her beloved cat, Cleo. Without electricity, her oxygen support couldn’t sustain her. Damn, that hurts.
(NOTE: I’m going to go ahead and publish this even though I didn’t finish the post. All in all, 2024 was the pits a year, so I’ll leave it at that.)
No comments:
Post a Comment