I’m writing this post on Thanksgiving and feeling grateful for so many things – family, friends, dogs in general and Lexi in particular (despite how she smells because I’m pretty sure she rolled in something dead and it seems that one bath isn’t going to quite take care of it), the portobello mushrooms Chad will be stuffing for our vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner, the opposing thumbs that make so many things possible…
But yesterday was hard. The death of someone I very much liked and admired reminded me (again, again, again) of how fragile and precious life is. It shouldn’t have, but the news blindsided me, made me weep and quietly rage at the cruelty and unfairness that is cancer. She was only 40 years old. There are no magic words that will make her death okay with me, no platitudes that make it easier to accept. I feel sad and angry, and yesterday was hard because I spent the afternoon printing and packaging orders for art and note cards, the profits from which will be donated to metastatic breast cancer research because, sadly, I very much like and admire Lisa Adams, and she has stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.
I cried a lot yesterday.
But today is Thanksgiving, and one of the first things I saw this morning, my eyes still bleary with sleep, was Lisa’s daily reminder, “Find a bit of beauty in the world today. Share it. If you can’t find it, create it. Some days this may be hard to do. Persevere.”
So today, I’m focusing on love, the thing I am most grateful for of all. I’m focusing on the people who have ordered hundreds of art prints and note cards in support of Lisa and her Sloan-Kettering metastatic breast cancer research fund; the response has been magnificent and humbling. I’m focusing on my generous, loving Facebook community, who jumped in to comfort me when I said I was sad; I wept then too, but with love and gratitude. I’m focusing on the people who love me in spite of my many flaws, and the people I love who, over and over, fill my well on days like yesterday.
I think this post is kind of rambling, full of joy and sorrow and love and awe and loss. And maybe that’s the point in the end, that life is just this big, scary, painful, precious mess, and the best thing we can do, the most important thing we can do, is hold onto each other.
This Thanksgiving, I’m so very, very grateful for all of you.
p.s. Some happy news! I drew Christy Wilson’s name from the hat and will be sending her the hand-lettered piece of her choice.