Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I had tears in my eyes because my daughter will not be alive in any part of this new year. Last year she didn't die until June, so I had half a year being with her, talking to her, and supporting her. She feels more gone today. And I don't have much jubilation for what is to come, as it all seems so tenuous and wispy. Will the vaccines reach the numbers necessary, and when and how can we see people again without masks? It's vague and not particularly comforting. But the basics are that my family is healthy and stable, and my grandchildren hanging in there. I appreciate what I have and how fortunate I am. I feel hopeful enough about the days getting longer. I'm expecting my friends to walk with me more, and I will cling to phone calls and cards and peanut butter. It's just complicated to have expectations in this altered world. And at my age, I believe it will always be so. The people I love I will leave, and memories only get you so far. I'm not the presence in my family's life I once was, so I need to be deeply aware of my own presence, so that this all feels real and I stay awake in my life's moments.