April 23, 2013--Sweet Sorrow

The worst thing about the way we live is the way we live.

Moving with the seasons from place to place to place to place. And then the following year, doing it all over again. Spring in New York, summer in Maine, a fall sojourn back in New York, and then winter in Delray Beach.

We are so fortunate to be able to live this way. It would be perfect except for one thing--in all places we have friends and family who we care about and love, and thus we seem always to be saying goodbye.

Of course, a great part of being fortunate is knowing so many wonderful people. But then there are the goodbyes.

At this point in our lives, we know that as we move about, saying goodbye to some is not just for a season or two but forever. It is hard enough to have to part in Florida from Charlotte and Vicente and Ernst and Ed and Harvey and Esther and my mother; and difficult to know we will not see Reggie and Melissa and John and Karly when not in New York; or Al and John and Sue and Ken and Patty and Crystal in Maine. But the final goodbyes are devestating.

In New York last year we said goodbye to Valerie knowing it would be for the final time. When we left Maine in early November, we suspected we would not ever again see Rod, and then Jack in Delray was not there when we returned in December.

Rona reminds me that this is just life. And also, she reminds me that eternal partings do not occur in order. My mother prevails though she is close to 105, but Rod was 20 years younger and Valerie younger yet.

I know Rona is right, but still I hate it.

Thus I am feeling blue.

We head north tomorrow. I will try to keep this going from the road.