In the meme yesterday I mentioned hand-shoveling 12 tons of gravel. Our gravel-filled side yard is now our outdoor dining room. We have two comfy chairs, a fire pit from Target, and a small table. Last night I made dinner while Jrex got to play with fire. (His love of chemistry and fire should have been combined through a career in pyrotechnics, but that’s not high on the list of acceptable career options for a 2nd generation Korean.)
As we sat and talked, the poor dog kept trying to stay near us, which meant contorting herself into semi-comfortable positions in the gravel. She could have moved five feet to a nice bed of soft grass, but no, must be as. close. as. possible. (At night she shimmies her way under the bed. We won’t let her on the bed, so to be near us she burrows beneath.)
One of the rituals I’m enjoying is that we often discuss my latest blog entry. Last night he was confused by the whole “tag” concept. I explained how certain ideas or questionnaires start filtering around various blogs. Someone who knows you’re a reader tags you to fill in the blanks for your own version. He wondered who Snickolett was; he knew the other two I’d tagged. (Thinker he doesn’t read your blog, just knows it exists!)
I explained Snickollet is a soon to be mother of twins whose husband is fighting cancer. “Her life is more full of highs and lows all at once than anyone I know.” He shook his head, “I’ve seen worse.” (He’s an oncologist though currently working in a bio-chem lab.) He had a 34 year-old cancer patient admitted for a bowel obstruction. While he was in the hospital his wife came in to give birth just down the hall. They went “home” to a hospice.
There’s a quote I appreciate, “The world is more full of weeping than we can understand.” Many of my friends think I’m being morbid with that quote, but I’m not. Somehow I find it helpful. After my life was touched by death, it helped to think of all the other people who have endured as much or worse. It helped to feel part of a community, no matter how horrible the ‘joining’ fee. The worst part about becoming blog friends is that it’s impossible to help in any tangible way. All we have are words. And they are often the last thing one needs… I wish I could run over to Weigook Saram's house on a rainy day and play with her little girl while she takes a break. I want health and wholeness for Snickolett's husband. I want to make them food, or help paint the babies' room. What fragile yet vital bridges we build: stories, sympathy, care.