Every little precious drop

hot fudge sundaeYesterday was my dad’s birthday.  
This is a picture of my Dad last year on his birthday;  Josh came up and we celebrated with him at Newport Creamery, the old stomping grounds.  
I didn’t even remember it till half way through the day. But I was in a funk all morning, then I’m going over to some friends’ house and a fire truck rushes by with it’s siren on–I burst into tears.
That’s when it all started: a year and a half ago–in New York City,or was it Rhode Island?- rushing with my dad to the emergency room in a big red fire truck. Then umpteen trips back a forth across the country, the emergency room, nurses, hospital beds, lawyers, doctors, TV, phone calls, roofs, floors, houses; preparing for a passage no one could  fully admit to or comprehend…the slow and precarious decline, of a 92 year old Bronx-raised immigrant from Poland, sometimes kicking and screaming, other times playful and laughing, to his final parting.
It’s been a loooong journey.
 
It might sound a little weird, but I sat down and had a little talk with him. He never did like birthdays. We laughed about it. I told him I loved him. told him I was still mad at him, I let it go a little more.  And then Mom showed up; talked to her too (yes, she’s passed on too…). I ranted about how this and that, the good the bad the ugly.  Ended with the sparkles of pure love. That’s all that’s left now. Yes, I love ’em.
It’s amazing, I’ve been feeling them both ever since. Happy to connect. Happy to really feel them at my back, by my side, in my heart. Good, so good, to feel the connection beyond time and place.
 
The world is a different place now, Yes, I’m an orphan. I’m a different person. I remember before my mom passed, how I thought I couldn’t survive without her-that outpouring of motherly love that loves-you-no-matter- what kind of love.  Somehow I survived through the transition, actually… why is it hard to admit?… I am thriving a very good part of the time.
Thank you Mom and Dad for all your support through the years. I know you did the best you could do. I know I did too. Good to feel the connection. Good to celebrate all of it, the good the bad the ugly, the weird, the happy the way it was–it’s an amazing, beautiful life.  Thank you for every drop of what you did and still do bring to me.  
In gratitude.
And in gratitude I share this with all you.
Gratitude for every little precious drop of it.

3 thoughts on “Every little precious drop

  1. Donn Longstreet

    Thank you~ what a beautiful piece of writing…

    And thank you for the clarity and integrity to share it as well…

    Reply
  2. Jo Nita Beede

    Dear Nicola,
    I hardly know you but I want to thank you for this (and all your) sharing of your soul. My father passed on 10 yrs. ago August 12 and my body knows the day sometimes before my mind is conscious of it. I am usually pretty aware of the days and times of my parents passings but I love your words of your experience with the human mother/father and child experience. I relate to it very much. I aspire to have a clearer connection to my own soul and those of my dear family and friends here and not here. I am grateful to teachers like you who walk the walk and write the talk so that I may see how one fellow human spirit does it. You bring Joy, Thank you!
    Jo Nita

    Reply

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