Saturday, December 1, 2007
Life Goes On
Wouldn't you know, with all the stress, I have fallen prey to a miserable chest cold. When I try to talk I croak. I'm on antibiotics because my sick lungs are susceptible to pneumonia. It's been a couple of years since I last had a cold and I had forgotten how rotten "the common cold" makes you feel.
I decided that today had to be a relaxing and resting day, and since it was a beautiful morning and early afternoon I rode with Joe to a nearby Penrose alpaca farm. I have a weakness for alpacas and their soft, luxurious wool. While Joe worked on Robin's dishwasher, Gary to me for a tour of his place and introduced me to his 60 alpacas. Their Australian shepherd, with one blue and one brown eye, and the white Great Pyrenees accompanied us, as did a sleek black and white cat (I never met a herd cat before). I am in love and am going to have to drive by occassionally to admire these wonderful animals.
After the tour, Robin showed me the treasures made from alpaca wool that she sells in her small store. Robin is an artist as well as alpaca farmer, and I was delighted to see a needle felted alpaca with blanket that she had made. They have their wool processed by a place in Kansas and have several natural colors of yarn, with photos of the alpaca who donated the wool on each label. I really admired the hand knitted socks and sweaters and the sheer woven scarves looked almost like silk. I hope one of the kids asks me what I want for Christmas, because I have my eye on a hand embroidered black scarf.
I also want to share my newest treasure with you. My 11 year old granddaughter Rachel, from Salt Lake City, gave me a drawing for a quilt design, and someday I hope to use it to make a quilt for her.
Tomorrow we will start moving Mom to Canon City. Mom and Dad have lived in Fowler for 57 years, and in their home for around 40. It is so hard! I don't want to do this; I don't want to play this game anymore, it's not fun. I just want things to go back to the way they were. My reaction to losing Dad is nothing like what I expected. I don't feel sad, it hurts too bad to be just sad. I literally hurt physically, my whole body, with a hole in my middle. I feel like something is horribly wrong with my world, something like anxiety, but not just sadness. I told Joe that death isn't just the loss of someone, it is the loss of an entire lifestyle. "This too will pass." For the last 40 years this has been one of those common sayings that help me to keep putting one foot in front of the other, whatever happens. Thank God, humans are so adaptable.