Brrrr. It’s Cold Outside. And I’m…Grateful?

I’ve heard of some regions in the U.S. that have gotten “waist-deep” snowfalls in the past week and I’ve watched weather reports of vehicles stuck on roads and highways because of the heavy snowstorms.

 

And who doesn’t snicker as they watch those inevitable videos with people sliding keister-first down their driveway on the ice? (Okay, the snickering may not be kind – but I always wince first and say a quick prayer that no one was hurt during the creation of that video.)

 

In contrast, we didn’t get that much snow here. It snowed on and off for three days and we got maybe four inches total.

 

Doesn’t matter. I’m not a big fan of the snow and the cold no matter how much or little we get. Before Maggie Minx, I could stay inside all toasty and warm and completely ignore the snow and the cold. I could appreciate how pretty it was – from a distance.

 

But not anymore. I’m out there on a daily basis – whether it’s nine or 90 degrees.

 

That “neither rain, nor snow…” thing doesn’t apply only to mail carriers. But dog walkers don’t get Sundays and holidays off – we’re out there every single day.

 

Yesterday morning was sunny as Maggie Minx and I trudged around the neighborhood plodding along the snow-covered sidewalks. She was desperately looking for a little grass on the ground to sniff while I was concentrating on staying upright.

 

Because green grass was nowhere to be found, Maggie sought out other dog tracks. I’m not sure if it was to help her navigate through the deep (for her) snow – or to reassure herself that other animals still lived in this white-covered terrain.

 

Even though I was all bundled up, my eyes were watering and my nose was running. So I was feeling cold and my neutral mood was quickly heading into grumpy territory.

 

But then I looked down. To the pristine snow where no doggie or people tracks marred the expanse of white. And the sun shining down caused billions of tiny sparkles in the snow. Which, if you know me at all, you know how much I love sparkles.

 

So then I started appreciating the beauty of the snow – even through my watery eyes.

 

Of course, I had to pull my phone out of my pocket to try to snap a picture. I knew it probably wouldn’t be as beautiful as real life, but I gave it a shot anyway. (A shot – haha. Get it?!)

 

Anyway, my mood instantly lifted, and I smiled as I sniffled along through the rest of our walk, vowing anew to remember to bring a Kleenex with me the next time.

 

Even though I know this, I once again came to realize that I have the power to change my mood. Rather than be annoyed that it takes me 10 minutes to bundle myself up multiple times a day to take Maggie out for a walk (and another five minutes to zip Maggie into her own purple puffy jacket), I can choose to be annoyed…

 

…or I can choose to be grateful that I have all sorts of blessings. That I have enough clothes to bundle myself and my dog up and keep (mostly) warm outside during this very cold January.

 

That I have the ability to walk with my Maggie Minx and get a little bit of exercise and fresh air, even if it’s frigid air that makes my eyes water and my nose run.

 

That once our walk is over, we get to come back inside to a warm, comfy and cozy house that gives us shelter from the snow and cold.

 

And, uh, I’m mostly grateful that I have a whole case of Kleenex here that could prevent all manner of sniffling during my walks with Maggie.

 

But seriously, I am grateful that – once in a while – we have sunshine and blue skies here in Ohio in January. That’s an instant mood-lifter if there ever was one.

 

So, yes, I’m blessed. And I’m grateful.

 

But does it make me a bad person to also wish for a mid-winter thaw? I’d even take a 40-degree day. As long as it’s sunny. And as long as my case of Kleenex lasts.

 

Happy Sunday, everyone. Stay warm. (And if you live somewhere warm already, well, I’m not talking to you. Well…okayyyy…that’s not a good attitude, Jane. To all you folks in warm environs – stay cool!)

 

 

In Honor of My Father-in-Law, Morris Cordova

I have a need to write, but it’s not a blog I can post. Why not? Well, because it’s about my 93-1/2-year-old father-in-law who has entered hospice. And his 92-year-old sister does not know the extent of his condition because her health is not so great either and we don’t want to worry her.

 

Morris – my father-in-law – got pretty sick right before Christmas with the ‘flu and RSV. He went to the Emergency Room, but they released him. He went a couple times, actually, and finally ended up with pneumonia. This was too much for his body to fight and he eventually became unresponsive.

 

He had made a living will in which he stated he did not want to be kept alive by artificial means, including feeding tubes – so we made the difficult decision to put him in hospice.

 

I’ve been through hospice with both my parents and it’s not an easy thing. Dad was in hospice for only a week after his head injury, but mom was in hospice for over a year as she declined from Alzheimer’s.

 

I hated that they both had to be in hospice, but I will say that the hospice organization is amazing. They are the most caring, wonderful people who deal with so much grief. They care about us, our dying family members – and they even care for us again after our loved ones have passed.

 

I can’t say enough good things about them.

 

On Saturday, I went to Newark to see Morris in his hospice room. I had prepared a playlist of music I knew he liked.

 

Back in 2019 after his wife Marilyn died, Vince and I went to Newark frequently to help Morris organize his paperwork and visit him to keep up his spirits. Morris was eager to tell me about his morning routine, which was to get up, turn on his computer and access his music. He’d tell me how much he liked the station that played songs by artists such as Andrea Bocelli and Michael Bublé.

 

Many of those songs are some of my favorites, too, so it was fairly easy to create a playlist for him.

 

So when I got to his room, I turned off the TV. I decided Miss Kitty on Bonanza and Andrea Bocelli’s song featuring Celine Dion were not exactly compatible sounds.

 

We spent the better part of the hour listening to my playlist and then when it was over, I talked to him. Told him stories about some of the songs – how several were played at our wedding, how Vince told me how much he loved me after listening to one of them on our long flight back from Maui. And how much we enjoyed going to the Michael Bublé concert in 2019 and how we wished we could’ve had the opportunity to take Morris to the Andrea Bocelli concert the next time he came to Columbus.

 

Morris, of course, did not acknowledge any of this, although I want to believe that the furrow in his brow smoothed out some.

 

And while I was talking to him, I cried. A lot. I brushed Morris’ hair back off his forehead. I prayed aloud as I held his hand. I couldn’t help but feel Vince in the room with us. Waiting to welcome his dad home.

 

I was missing Vince terribly and wishing he were physically with us – but even though I was so sad, I also felt a sense of peace come over me.

 

It’s hard to explain, but there it is.

 

After a couple of hours, I told Morris that I was leaving. He actually opened his eye a bit as I bent down to kiss his forehead, told him I loved him and thanked him for bringing Vince into this world and welcoming me to the Cordova family.

 

When I passed the nurse’s station, I did remember to ask if they’d turn the TV back on since I’d forgotten. Television noise has been one of the constants in Morris’ life in recent years and I didn’t want him to lie there in silence before his son Keith came in for a few hours to sit with his dad.

 

When I got home, I was exhausted. My eyes were burning from having spent hours crying earlier. I was thinking that it would’ve been so much easier if someone had been with me in the room with Morris.

 

But you know something? It was then that I realized that I was happy that I had that time alone with him. That if someone had been in the room with me, I probably wouldn’t have spent the time talking to him or had the opportunity to tell him the things I was able to tell him.

 

We don’t always get that chance – so it’s important to take it when we can.

 

I wasn’t able to tell Vince I loved him just one more time because he left this world so suddenly. I wasn’t able to tell him that I wished we had many more years of happiness together and that I loved him and would miss him forever.

 

Even though I believe he knew – whether I voiced the words out loud or not.

 

The older we get, the more loss we experience. And it sometimes seems overwhelming to be in the midst of facing yet another loss, such as this.

 

But to experience loss, we must first experience love. So I wouldn’t forego this awful feeling of loss for anything. Because I know I have loved. And I have been loved.

 

I can’t alleviate the pain that all those who love Morris are going through and will experience in the days, months and even years ahead. But we can be there for each other and acknowledge a life well lived.

 

And we can honor our cherished memories of him.

 

Morris – I have been truly blessed to know and love you. Thank you for having me in your world.