My father’s younger brother and his wife stayed with us for my father’s memorial service. Although I grew up seeing them quite often, it’s been over 15 years since we’ve had any regular communication, so it was a joy to have them in our home. Despite the sad circumstances, or perhaps because of them, we did a lot of recollecting, laughing, and reconnecting. At one point, as we sat in the living room together after another day of planning and errands, I thought to myself that I was happier than I had been in a good long time. Being held and surrounded by family is decidedly good medicine.
Today, they hit the road, but not before I’d taken them around to a few local stores for some last minute shopping. As we went from place to place, I played tour guide: here is a new restaurant run by a family whose daughter used to play soccer with our younger son; there’s the dad of a kid who used to play baseball with our elder son; here is the store with gender neutral bathrooms, thanks to a campaign by my QSA kids; here is a free books bookshelf I established many years ago, still going strong … “I exist,” I seemed to be telling them. “I go deep in this town, and what’s more, I’ve made an impression on this place.”
It felt good to give my aunt and uncle some information about myself, about what I’ve been doing and who I’ve become in the last 15 years, to interact with them on a more equal plane (although I’ll always be the niece, of course). This is especially true because my own parents, even when my father was still alive, are much less able to participate in and comprehend the complexities of my life due to advanced age. To have my aunt and uncle witness my life allowed me to take another look at it myself, which is especially healing as I grieve my father and mourn all the things I wasn’t able to share with him. When a parent dies, I am finding out, part of your understanding of yourself becomes very shaky. After pointing out to beloved family members some of the ways in which my own values and work and presence have influenced the physical place that I live, some of that understanding of myself firmed up a bit.
My very mortal, deeply breathing, altogether human femme sisters, where do you put pieces of yourself? How do you express your passions? With whom do you connect in the place where you live? Where are your sense of justice and your kind hearts reflected? Where is the who you are in the where you are? I know your love radiates out to bless the world. Notice that today.
Honor yourself today.
Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, kind, and wise and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.
At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”)
great delight
The Total Femme 