When the World was Mud Wonderful

Dear UD,

It’s spring again, which means rain and green, mud and warmer weather, flowers and baby birds, births and birthdays, yours, today.

 

It’s been eleven years since we lost you, eleven years since the last birthday we shared with you at your house. It seems both yesterday and forever ago that we all gathered together, playing Scrabble and Bridge, eating meals, laughing, talking, taking a walk around your land. All the family together, celebrating you.

 

Did you know, somehow, it was your last birthday that year? You invited us all, asking only that we bring a personal note or card, words of love and joy, gratitude for your place in our lives.

 

It’s been eleven years without you, UD, and I miss you still. I miss you and dad and mom. There are so many things I want to tell you all today, so many things to share. The best one is that I have a second grandson, Elijah, now, and he’s six months old and such a happy baby. DJ is now four and loves to read and play. You would all love them both. There’s so much that you all taught me that I now teach them, and I am grateful for your birthdays, your days with me, and your legacies that I pass on.

 

               The worst one is of news, wars and rumors of wars, famine, divide, the end nearer than ever. So many are hurting; so many are scared; so many are lost. Without hope.

 

But there is always hope.

               Every day, every moment is a choice. The best or the worst. The good or the bad. Which one will I focus on today? I remember how you once told me that I can stand in the middle of a raging storm and still be calm, still be okay. While I understood that intellectually then, I didn’t know how to do that. Now, I do.

 

               It’s spring again. It’s your birthday again. It’s storming outside right now: dark clouds roll by with strikes of lightning in between rolling thunder and strong winds blowing rain every which way. Yet I am at peace. Right here, right now, I have all I need. Right here, right now, I remember and honor you, mom, dad, and I am filled with love and hope. Right here, right now, the world is mud wonderful.

 

Love,

Rach