Sunday, December 16, 2018

Christmas visitation

I'm not sure why I'm posting this blog entry, except that I feel compelled.

The other day I went to a doctor appointment. I sat next to a Christmas tree in the waiting area, and looked around at the wreaths and other decorations as I made my way to the examination room, and then the lab (for a blood draw). One of the office workers had a radio on, tuned to a station playing Christmas carols.

At one point, an older woman walked by; the scent that followed her was delicate, but hit me right in the heart. It told me, in less than the space of a blink, "Grandmom Poremski." A feeling of love swept through me, and I found myself smiling even as the tears started, thinking about holiday traditions at her house--the afternoon dinner, the candy and cookies she made, the visits we'd have at her house with cousins and aunts and uncles. Her smile. The songs she liked at mass.

The Goralski sisters and me on my wedding day:
Aunt Agnes, me, Grandmom (Marie), and Aunt Frances.


I like to believe that our ties with loved ones are not severed, even after death. I like to believe that, in the moment I was reliving those memories, Grandmom was with me--the part of her that nurtured and loved me and planted itself in me bloomed, always there hidden but visible for just a moment.

I hope you have the chance to visit with your loved ones, even if not in person.

Karen