Grateful for happiness?

Posted on December 5, 2014 by curibe2014

Thanksgiving Table

Thanksgiving was at our house this year and in a sense it was the most relaxing one yet. This is the first year I wasn’t stressed about making the turkey since taking over that duty from my mom, more than a decade ago. My sister and I have tried to make it a bunch of different ways but slathering a mixture of butter and herbs de Provence between the skin and the meat makes the juiciest most delicious turkey so we stick with that recipe. My broccoli gratin was made in advance and the rest was potluck so while twenty-eight of us would gather around the table this year, I spent the day taking a walk, watching football and generally just waiting for the turkey to be done.

Thanksgiving day was warm, sunny and stunningly beautiful. My California sycamore seemed to glisten in the sun even as the leaves dropped gently to the ground. It was the kind of day Gus would have been running around the yard, kicking at leaves, agonizing over how long much longer he’d have to wait to dive into the turkey. I imagined his legs, which would have been by longer now, draped over the end of the couch as we watched the football games or episodes of Twilight Zone. I imagined I would have been trying to capture the family Christmas card picture while none of the boys cooperated. I willed myself not to cry.

Each year, before sitting for dinner, we go around the room taking turns expressing something for which we are most grateful for that year. Over the years, this tradition has taken on a life of its own as I imagine all traditions do and going around the room has been taking longer and longer because everyone seems to want to make a speech. I decided I would limit everyone to a single word this year. To make sure we were all listening to each other, I would ask that each person first say the word just said by the person next to them before adding their own and that we try not to repeat any sentiment or object of our gratitude already expressed. It would be a wonderful exercise in listening and being concise.

As the time neared for me to start off our expressions of gratitude I wondered what feeling or thing I would choose and if I could mean it. Grief can be unpredictable and devious and so while I thought I had somehow learned to co-exist with it, it has turned around and poked at me with much more ferocity than I expected this year. I have been missing Gus terribly this holiday season. I feel constantly sad and on the verge of tears most days. Another holiday without him, another year gone by. I reminded myself that Gus would not want me to be sad or make others sad and so when it was time, I slapped a smile across my face and gathered everyone around the table. After thanking everyone for joining us again, I said I was grateful for happiness and I began to mean it.

Allowing happiness to enter into our midst has been as difficult as the loss itself. Being happy seems wrong somehow as though it is an act of betrayal or a sign that we are “over it”. There is no getting over your losses, I still miss my grandmother now deceased thirty years, I miss my grandfather, my mother-in-law and I can’t imagine ever not missing Gus but I have to make a choice. I can either to wallow in the sadness or bask in the sunlight of happiness. I choose happiness because that is the best way to honor my baby boy who was always happy even when he was sick. The truth is there is much to be happy about, lots of “upsides”. I have great friends, an awesome family, a wonderful husband and two amazing, talented, funny older boys. I have lost weight and feel great about myself. I have extraordinary parking karma, finding a spot near where I need to go even when the lot is full. I have a job a like and I am taking a shot at doing what I always wanted to do – write. I am finally in a book club through which I was introduced to incredible books and authors. We have been fortunate to have had many opportunities to travel this year. We skied in Utah, visited my sister in New York, cruised through the Panama Canal, partied in Vegas a couple of times and next week we will head to Seattle to watch the Seahawks take on the 49niners. We must be happy because everywhere we go, Gus is with us. Our most recent and obvious encounter with him was when we stopped in Cabo San Lucas at end of our family cruise. Of all the places we could have chosen to stop for breakfast we just happen to pick the one restaurant that is permeated by the image of a figure with outstretched hands in a sign of victory much like Gus’ memorial picture. Thank you Gus for giving us happiness by your life on earth and from above in heaven.

Gus’ memorial picture

Gus image on chairs

Gus image on base of sinks

Gus image on the window outside. Gus with his brothers again.

Our Camino – Finisterre – April 11, 2013

Posted on June 21, 2014 by curibe2014

Onward Pilgrim

We woke up this morning to dark menacing clouds threatening a downpour at any second. Yesterday’s sun had been abducted by the force that insisted our walk be difficult to the end. It brought out our innate dispositions, with me tending toward optimism, insisting it would get sunny therefore going without my rain jacket and my husband tending towards pessimism going for the full rain armor. We set out early after our final “pilgrim’s breakfast” of toast and Iberian ham and cheese. Our legs and feet felt fresh for this final leg, we were sure we’d cover the next fifteen kilometers in record time.

The Camino continued to be a challenge, taking us through more mud, over bigger boulders, across swollen rivers and along partially washed out roads. We thought that after the beautiful Cathedral in Santiago, the ocean-side finishing village of Finisterre would be a disappointment but we were wrong. The sight of waves crashing against the beach as we made our way out of the mountains to walk along the shore was moving in ways we had not anticipated. Further ahead we caught a glimpse of our friends, Andrew and Chris, but they were walking too briskly and we could not catch up. That final ascent to the edge world was for us to walk alone.

As we neared town, we looked up towards the light house at the very edge of the peninsula, but it was barely visible. Like our journey without Gus, it was fitting that our final destination would be encased in fog. Mid-way up the final hill, just as we walked past the statue of a pilgrim appearing to lunge head first into the wind, a ferocious windstorm blew down the hill, pushing us back, but we persisted by taking on the statue’s stance to continue up the road.

The lighthouse was virtually deserted when we arrived, winds swirled and howled all around us, furious, as though we’d done something wrong. To get to the very edge of the cliff where a bronze boot commemorated the pilgrim’s journey, we had to become more than penitent, we had to become beggars, crawling out on all fours just to take a look. We had intended to leave our final offering there but were forced to double back to a sheltered ledge we’d seen near the 0 kilometer marker. There protected from the wind, we pulled out a pair of Gus’ beloved basketball shoes from our packs, each of us having carried one shoe for 215 kilometers. Through a mess of tears we scribbled our final messages to him, leaving one shoe on the ledge with his prayer card and a cross and keeping the other shoe to bring home as a reminder that we will always carry him with us. We walked back to the 0 kilometer marker and left our final rocks – one for Gus’ Wito Juan, his Nana Robyn and one for Gus. We’d just finished taking our final picture, when the heavens opened up, pelting us into seeking shelter at the souvenir kiosk. For a second we thought we could walk back, but as the sheets of rain came down much heavier than any we’d experienced, it was clear to us that our Camino had ended. God and Gus were saying it was time to stop walking and call a cab.

Final Destination encased in fog.

Bronze Pilgrim’s boot.

Gus' shoes - he will always fill up the space between us.

Gus’ shoes – he will always fill the space between us.

Leaving one shoe behind

We did it!

Final Rocks.

Our Camino – Santiago to Negreira – April 8, 2013

Posted on June 18, 2014 by curibe2014

To Finisterre – To Santiago

Less than ten percent of pilgrims who arrive in Santiago continue on to what was previously thought of as “the end of the world”, Finisterre. This is true from what we’ve observed, as we’ve only run into a few pilgrims since leaving Santiago, mostly solitary men. The journey is more difficult, on this side of the “Camino”. The distance between towns is greater, the road more treacherous and less kept. So far, we’ve ducked under fallen trees and the rocks that have always littered the path are boulders not pebbles. We’ve spent a great deal of time therefore looking at our feet, reminding us of that Indiana Jones movie line that says that “only the penitent man may pass”.

When we left Santiago we felt like Camino pros, looking forward to the next 25 km, our legs anxious to get going again, but as the day wore on, we became physically and emotionally wrecked. Before arriving in Spain, we had practiced going up and down a steep hills, judging the steepness of the maximum hill by our John Brierly guidebook. What we had not anticipated or encountered before was a hill that was not so much steep, as it never seemed to end. Every time we rounded a corner thinking we’d finally reached the zenith we’d only found more hill. Our legs wore out taking our hearts with them.

I personally grew angrier and angrier as I continued to climb the hill. My thoughts going from “will this hill ever end?” to “why did I ever agree to go to Finisterre?, then to “why did I even want to do this walk?” and finally to “why God had taken our beautiful boy!” I was sobbing by the time I reached the top and with no one else to be angry at, I blamed my husband for failing to warn me about the length of the hill. So I left him, nearly sprinting down hill as quickly as I could.. As I reached the bottom, furiously wiping the tears from my eyes, I came upon an “ass” in an open field, eating grass, minding his own business. I could have sworn that in that moment, the rain clouds parted and the sun illuminated the donkey as though God was saying “stop being such an ass”. Even angrier, I gained speed. I was galloping now, trying to leave my grief behind. I stopped only when I arrived at a medieval bridge over an expansive river, the water rushing underneath, mirroring my own fury. I softened just a little, thinking how literal God could be when he is trying to communicate. I sat and waited for my husband, my sobs being carried away by the current.

My husband came along a few minutes later, he’d been wrestling with his own pains, one in his heart and one in his leg having pulled a muscle trying to catch up to me. I did not need to apologize, he said, he understood and felt the same. He was only worried that I’d get lost or be kidnapped by the truck that kept driving back and forth. I apologized anyway and the thought of a scrawny little man trying to push me, amazon woman, into a truck with all my gear, as furious as I was made us laugh. We were still laughing when he asked if I’d noticed the “ass” along the road, informing me that he’d taken a picture of it just in case (God still trying to make a point). The bridge loomed before us, like the rest of our lives without Gus. If we were going to make it, we’d need to cross the bridge of grief together. We collected the pieces of our heart, stuffing them into our pockets with the hope of piecing it back together later and crossed the bridge.

Leaving Santiago

Starting up the hill

Still going up.

The ass.

Crossing over.

Arrived!

Our Camino – Taking a break – April 7, 2014

Posted on June 16, 2014 by curibe2014

St. James the Moorslayer

We took a pause from our walk, to “walk” around Santiago for a day and smell the proverbial flowers. We spent most of the day at the city’s Cathedral, an imposing Romanesque structure finished in the early 1200s. According to legend, St. James preached in Galicia before returning to Jerusalem where he was martyred in 44 AD. His disciples then retrieved his body, returning it to Galicia for burial. Due to the Roman’s persecution of Christians, the exact location of his tomb was forgotten until in 814 AD, the hermit Pelagius, saw “strange lights in the sky” and for whatever reason connected them to the remains of St. James. The pilgrimage to his shrine is now over 1,000 years old.

The major symbol of the Camino is the scallop shell. Like other pilgrims, we’ve been carrying a shell on our backpacks as we follow the scallop shell markers along the route. Although the shell’s symbolic history is rooted in the legends surrounding the return of St. James body to Galicia, it is probably best seen as a metaphor for the journey itself. As the grooves of the shell meet at a single point, so do the many paths pilgrims take that ultimately converge at Santiago de Compostela.

We attended the Pilgrims Mass, where we were announced as “two from the United States starting in Sarria” and got to see the Botafumeiro in action. We did a little shopping, took some pictures around town, and stuffed ourselves silly with the unending supply of bread, cheese and wine (especially wine from the Ribeiro Sacra region). One of the most curious aspects of Galicia was that the sun did not set until well after 9 pm and that therefore people did not venture out for dinner until well after 10 pm. Curious about this, my husband did a little research and discovered that Spain never went back to its “natural” (solar) time zone after WWII, accounting for the “unusual” schedule.

Our journey continues tomorrow.