”Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

How is everyone feeling about their existence on earth beginning in 2023? I’m 63 and I just lost my mom in the last year. Most people my age have been through this experience already. Now many of us take the place of our parents. We are parents, grandparents, and some are great-grandparents.

My mom was not my best friend like some of my friends recall of their own mothers, but she was with me for 63 years, and I miss her tremendously. Many have told me that she was their “second mom.” My kids loved her. She wasn’t the best mom, but she sure was a wonderful grandmother to a whole slew of kids. Friends and neighbors were always welcome in her home and if it was dinnertime, they were offered a seat at the table. And if it was in between lunch and dinner, she would at least make the guest a grilled cheese or burger. Mom’s hospitality was part of her German culture where visitors first and foremost were showered with offers of food and drink.

Friends, at last

The last year of her life mom did become my good friend and I became hers. She finally needed me. She needed me to visit her in the Maple Street assisted-living facility in Pe Ell. She needed me to read to her because she was blind. I took her apples from my tree and dipped slices in caramel for her. I brought her a peach that she remarked was the best and sweetest peach she had ever eaten. The day before she died I fed her her last meal — refrigerated grapefruit in a cup from Costco. She was so humble and appreciative when I brought her cherry tomatoes and pickling cucumbers (with salt) from my garden. We would go on picnics at the little park there in Pe Ell and eat Subway sandwiches, and I would read to her or we would listen to a podcast over lunch at a picnic table. When she could still leave the facility we would eat occasionally at Evie’s, a diner on the main street. The last time we ate there she ordered gizzards… ewwww, but she loved them and who am I to judge?

While growing up I found my mother rather harsh. I don’t recall her ever telling me she loved me or hugging me. Again, part of her staunch German culture. She told me that she only saw her “pop” kiss her mom one time and that is when she was going on a train to Boston for a hysterectomy. How Mom and her siblings howled when they saw that peck! But when I was a child, Mom was coping with a pretty dysfunctional family and trying to tame a promiscuous alcoholic husband that was the love of her life. Her mind was always preoccupied with worry and stress, and I stayed out of her way as best I could. One thing about mom — she never minced words. Every time I eat at the Hungry Heifer in Raymond I think of the time we were sitting in the truck and she got so mad that she yelled at me, “You little heifer!” Who calls their 12-year-old daughter that? Heifer: A young female cow that has not borne a calf. I didn’t know that at the time. Mom was also quick to point out to me that, “Those overalls are so unflattering on you! I don’t know why you wear them.” I was camping at the time.

Mom never lost her sense of humor. She would say the funniest things and not even know how hilarious it was. Example: I asked her what her favorite Halloween costume was when she was a kid. She said, “Well, mom and pop bought me a George Washington outfit from Evansville.” “It had a white wig with curls,” she said. There’s just something so comical about that, I thought, as I pictured her as a 9-year-old Revolutionary George. Anyway, so she wasn’t perfect but I dearly loved her and I miss her. I want to pick up the phone and call her every day because she was such a wonderful listener. So that is the toughest adjustment I must make in 2023. But, as Mom always said about life, “Eat the chicken and throw away the bones.”

Pull Quote

As Mom always said about life, ‘Eat the chicken and throw away the bones.’

On a positive note, this past year is the first maybe in my life that I feel grounded. I wasn’t grounded at 17 and couldn’t wait to leave Raymond. I hated it that everyone knew everyone’s business and couldn’t wait to get to the anonymity of Seattle. I wasn’t connected to anything in Pacific County because I never let myself be “involved.” The idea of participating in any local or school activity made me cringe. Not the pep staff — not sports — not the “secret pal” stuff where you like made cookies and put them in one of the basketball players’ locker anonymously. In my defense, I was extremely shy and did not want to draw attention.

I believe it is tragedy that led me back to South Bend. If anyone asked me what chance it was that I would ever return to Willapa Valley, I would have said, “110% on the negative.” But here I am. I believe it was my son, Solomon, who led me back here. I lost him in 2012, and only now do I feel grounded — now in 2023. For 10 years, I have let grief bind me into solitude. Last year, 2022, I started volunteering at the Pacific County Historical Society and the food bank. I joined the Eagles. I finally enjoy people and life and meeting new friends. I was always told that I would feel better if I could serve in the community in some capacity, and it is true. Since my last high-school reunion, my classmates and I meet at Alder and Company in Raymond for coffee once a month. They are like family to me and I feel very connected to these friends that I have known all my life. I don’t feel shy anymore and I love Raymond, South Bend, and the Valley.

‘Autobiography in Five Chapters’

I’m on a journey for spiritual growth and my quest is to always be a better and kinder person with each new day. I anticipate that 2023 will be a year of great personal transformation for me. I spent all of 2022 searching for answers and wondering about and regretting past mistakes and times that I have hurt people. In “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying,” Sogyal Rinpoche writes what he calls an “Autobiography in Five Chapters.” This is so my life.

1) I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost… I am hopeless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

2) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I’m in the same place.

But it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

3) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in… it’s a habit.

My eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

4) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

5) I walk down another street.

It’s like he’s describing my path, and I’m just now walking down another street. We are all just flawed human beings learning as we go along. And we all make mistakes, but sometimes I can’t stop ruminating — dwelling on past sadness and tragedy — just letting myself fall in that hole, digging myself out over and over again. A very spiritual friend of mine, Nick Dove, told me to “Try to be aware that it is only your mind replaying these experiences, just thoughts, not reality. Reality is always right here and right now, never in the past or future. This is not to say your past did not happen, these memories are now an event in your head — not reality, just thoughts. The past can’t hurt you anymore if you don’t let it. Push your mind and thoughts away from those past experiences that cause you suffering. When things start getting dark, look for positive actions, thoughts, and memories instead. You always have a choice as to where you take your mind or even better, you can choose not to think at all. What you can hear, taste, and smell are good distractions from mental difficulties. Try to be the watcher of your thoughts rather than getting drawn into where they try to take you. Put some separation between the thoughts and the awareness or realization you are thinking them. Always remember the ego, the mind, and the memories are not part of your divine self.”

Pull Quote

I can choose to live in the present. When I go on walks I try to really see the beauty in each flower, each leaf, and each moss-laden branch of a tree. I assign different colors to things and people. For instance, I’ve assigned the color purple to mom. When I see purple — I think “mom.” Blue — my son. White — God. Green — grateful. Yellow — happiness. Red — love. It works!

I find that he is entirely correct. I can choose to live in the present. When I go on walks I try to really see the beauty in each flower, each leaf, and each moss-laden branch of a tree. I assign different colors to things and people. For instance, I’ve assigned the color purple to mom. When I see purple — I think “mom.” Blue — my son. White — God. Green — grateful. Yellow — happiness. Red — love. It works!

Music sounds good again

And lastly, I am listening to music again with joy for the first time since losing my son. It is no longer painful.

So, 2023 is going to be a year of great learning as I diligently continue my quest for knowledge and wisdom. I don’t want to be the person who brings others down or squelches the growth of another’s journey. That would be immensely sad. I am going to strain out the aspects of my life that are negative. I walk on the Willapa Trail at the bottom of Eklund Park most days, and I have met so many wonderful fellow walkers that make me feel at home. If I am feeling lonely, all I have to do is call one of the many friends I have that live in Pacific County. Or I can simply go shopping at Select Grocery in South Bend and find more than enough interaction. I now steer away from the cities and prefer rather to journey leisurely to Astoria. The drive is serene and peaceful, and Astoria is just the right size.

My hope is that we can all see the beauty that surrounds us and that 2023 will bring wisdom and growth to all in our community. I am finally grounded.