As we move toward the end of the year
December 9, 2024
Hello —
The end of the year approaches fast, and I understand some holidays can be difficult. I also understand this is a time of sadness and loss for many people, on so many levels. In addition to the sad state of the world these days, I know people have been devastated by hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, wars, and personal struggles. Some friends had to say goodbye to beloved pets. Other friends have lost family members they were especially close to.
I am sad to say that I had to cancel my conversation with James Aronhió:ta's Stevens at Geronimo's Books in Santa Fe, originally scheduled for November 16. That was the day I grabbed a 6:15 AM flight to be with my sister in Chicago. She had been in hospice care for several days and I knew I had to get there as quickly as I could. She was unresponsive by the time I arrived, but her daughters (who never left her side) assured me she knew I was there. The tragedy is compounded by the fact that my sister had lost her husband the month prior; they had lost their eldest son exactly a year earlier. When I joined my sister, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews for Thanksgiving dinner in 2023, my sister had set a place for her missing son, whom we toasted before sitting down to enjoy our meal. My sister's strength and resilience had always impressed me, but as we toasted my nephew who was no longer with us, I was amazed at how well she was keeping it together. I was also impressed with the integrity and closeness of her now-adult children. My sister had made it a priority to raise a loving, cohesive family, and she was successful in achieving that goal. Most of us around that dinner table realized it could be the last Thanksgiving my nieces and nephews would celebrate with their parents, and indeed it was. I was grateful to be with my nieces and nephews during this difficult deathwatch, and to be at my sister's side at 1:55 PM on November 18 when she took her last breath.
For those of you going through your own losses, please know that I understand grief. My own grief continues to change shape; now that the wake and funeral are over, I find myself wanting to call my sister to ask her questions that will never be answered, or to give her the news of the day, or just to say hello. The realization that I will always miss her hits hard.
My conversation with James Aronhió:ta's Stevens has been rescheduled for January 11, 2025 at Geronimo's Books in Santa Fe.
I will leave you with three poems by Marie Howe that I find myself reading these days. And this video of Nikki Giovanni (who died on Monday at age 81) reciting her poem "When I Die."
Remember to tell someone today that you love them.
Renata