On a year of loss and hardship, she’s turning to routine and nature for solace

I’ve never been one to do a birthday month Year in Review, but the last 365 days have, shall l say, taken the cake. As a March baby, 2022-2023 went in like an angry, rabid lion and stayed that way.

Without getting into the heart-wrenching details, the last year included three funerals of absolute dear ones in my life. More on all of that another time, because I’m writing this while still in a state of raw grief. I am coping.

Between choosing flowers and writing eulogies and obituaries while my whole soul ached, other walloping stuff happened. Like a few ambulance rides. One was for me due to a straight-from-another-planet kerplunk l have since recovered from. The other upsetting siren ride l took was as a family member of the dear patient.

Throw in a few more poorly timed temporary illnesses, a favorite old tree that randomly collapsed just minutes after l walked beneath it, some oafish people chiming in with their horrible oaf-isms at the absolute worst moments, and l’ve officially had myself a stellar year.

This is life. It can be peppered with struggles and sometimes carpet-bombed with impossible heartache. Not only that, we rarely suffer losses and pain in a vacuum. There are usually others we care about who are navigating the same nightmare arm-in-arm with us.

So what do you do when the worst case scenarios happen almost all at once? I mean, aside from your spiritual beliefs, which vary from person to person, what does one do in a practical sense?

In my case, l wake up every morning. First with the, “Oh no that happened,” reality smack down. But as the cliches go, one must keep calm and carry on, take it one day at a time and all that. Yet I have felt, especially recently, cliches can be annoying. Even some poems meant to comfort folks miss the dart board. So l pack the annoyances and pat answers to complicated problems with the other shocks and aggravations and do the following:

I make coffee. I try to keep routines, like even flossing. I eat honey-crisp apples. I take walks. I can even find a dose of humor in some crisis situations, or maybe the humor finds me. The smiles and chuckles are real but tempered, because to me a squirting carnation or full blown comedy shtick seems desperate. Sad, even.

What I do most is look for comfort in nature. In that regard, l have not been let down this past year. (Minus almost getting crushed by a Canadian cherry just days after my birthday, but perhaps that tree was warning me of the year ahead.)

One night, when l was scared, l looked out the window at my parents’ place. There were two deer curled up under an ornamental evergreen, staring back at me. It was as if they were holding a vigil. I found it calming. And curious, since their resting spot was not near the woods, but on a patch of land where deer have never gone before due to a perimeter of busy roads. But there they were.

Days after that, when l was on the phone discussing funeral arrangements with a relative, I looked out another window. A cardinal landed on a dormant forsythia bush. It remained long enough for me to take a picture.

Then later that week, when my arms and legs and heart were made of lead, l took on the task of writing a eulogy. A few sentences in, l looked outside to see a sunset break in the clouds. Yet it was still raining from above. I’ve lived long enough to know sun + rain = rainbow. Sure enough, l ran outside to find a full rainbow. Crazy how all of this sounds scripted and unbelievable, but l have witnesses and photos.

“Deer, cardinal, rainbow” has become my new mantra. And when l blow out my next batch of candles soon, l will remain optimistic that a better year is ahead.

Reach Denise Snodell at stripmalltree@gmail.com