Counting my Blessings

Perspective is everything. Gratitude depends largely on our ability to recognize the blessings in our lives. I don’t mean this in a dogmatic way, I mean literally good people and things one ought to be grateful for; something or someone that bring us joy, the affirmation of life, and well-being . . . that kind of blessing.

I truly believe there is a silver lining to every cloud, though there are times it is so dark you may not see it. But trying to find it is a journey itself and, often, the little push you need to escape the darkness.

We have a lot to be thankful for here at the Temple. We both have our health (relative as that may be, she types as she simultaneously sniffles). We have a roof over our heads and the favor of the kids who have inherited the house and accept and love us as part of their family and home. We have food and all our basic needs are being met.

Having lived through periods when some or all of these things were in flux makes it easier to recognize why it is all a blessing; and we are truly grateful!

We are also thankful for family and friends, both new and old—especially friends who have become family by virtue of their love and support, their loyalty and their wisdom, the laughter and whimsy they being into our lives, and the virtual embrace many offer with no expectations other than to be treated with respect and maybe a little affection. We all need a tribe, and we have a fabulous one. It’s small in numbers but its collective heart is bigger than most nations.

At this point, I’d like to veer into what may sound a little strange, but we are extremely grateful for the Muse of Creativity who visits us in a variety of ways—from Mom’s adorable cookies and candies to my daily sketches. We each enjoy our process immensely, and it brings us an inner peace that is priceless. And we both find that sharing the product of this creativity is a gift in itself and in a myriad of ways (inspiring humor and joy, fantasy and remembrance of joyful moments). This contributes to good mental health, and that is something we all should be thankful for while we have it within our grasp.

For all these wonderful things, this year has not been our best. In the space of less than a year, I have lost both grandmothers. I am both grandma-less and abuela-less, and it sucks in both languages. Intellectually, I had already said my goodbyes to both women, who were both suffering symptoms of dementia—a fate that terrifies me. I knew they each were well-cared for and relatively happy in their own little world (in which I existed as a child or a young woman, in both cases as a studious good girl).  

Their fate was inevitable as it is for each of us, and I accept that. I’m all for positive-thinking, but there’s no point in fighting a war you couldn’t possibly win. I tend to pick my battles (though not always wisely, I admit).

Nevertheless, it bears mentioning that I am grateful for having had them both in my life.

I am grateful that I was able to develop a loving and mutually respectful relationship with my paternal grandmother—outside the web of trauma that is my father. She loved me and encouraged me and with her former daughter-in-law we formed quite a trio. I still miss our visits, but know how fortunate I am just retaining the memory of it.

I have been trying to write loving tributes to these two women who were so integral to my life, in different ways but with genuine love. Words fail me, because it’s probably too close to my heart and they both broke my heart a little.

Mami was a large influence in my life since childhood, despite our tug-of-war and push-pull relationship from my pre-teens into my twenties—which gave way to a deeper understanding about true love, and sacrifice, kindness and forgiveness (because I had to forgive her for being only human, as we all have to acknowledge of our all our heroes and authority figures).

In short, (I know: too late!), it is too soon for me to commit to words everything I feel and my deep gratitude for having had both women in my life. I am grateful that Mami ended her days as a centenarian and that she finally had a happy childhood—and this point is important because she was a truly generous soul who made sure all the children in her life (not all her own) experienced the magic of childhood, felt safe and loved and were well cared for. Most of her own childhood lacked all of these components, and no one deserved to experience it more than she did.

Finally, no matter what else may be happening, I am grateful for life itself and the fact that I have things to be grateful for. Happy Thanksgiving!