A wedding and a funeral

Good grief.

Do you know the sensation of being emotionally spent? I am taking the week off to reflect on this past weekend.

There was a wedding. There was a funeral. There were snippets of Portlandia watched to round out the heaviness with the absurdity of a micro-culture under scrutiny.

I returned from Denver with an eye twitch and the desire to hibernate. So, dear reader, I thank you for understanding why this week I am choosing to go off the grid. You might find me reading with my head stuck in a sci-fi novel and trying not to drink coffee that will exacerbate the twitch. Mostly, I’m emotionally mulling on what it looks like to celebrate life and transition.

In the midst of excitement for Ty and his recent marriage, I am carefully cradling the loss of Olga’s mother, a woman I still hold in great esteem.

I wanted to title this “In Defense of Valentine’s Day,” but opted for “A Wedding and a Funeral.” They are in some ways intriguing book ends to what love looks like in action.

Love is not a $4.95 greeting card from a paper store, but the act of remembering and celebrating the person in receipt.

Love is not saying in sickness and in health, and then moving away from the sickness, but instead bearing that physical burden of presence even when it’s emotionally difficult.

I know some people think Valentine’s Day is a holiday created by card companies, but expressing love is something worth celebrating. In fact, I’m inclined to think love is the most powerful force in the world. So in spite of the fact you might be single, in the process of getting a divorce, widowed or grieving, tell someone you care for today that you love them. It is a banner worth raising and a practice worth making a habit.

And I’ll be back next week with a story, a poem, and a recipe I’ve been tweaking. Until then, be loved and go love.