A Different Type of Memorial Day

A few months ago, I came home to find a large package on my front porch. The return address read The San Francisco Chronicle, the newspaper where I've been a freelance columnist for the past 13 years.  

What the heck was this?

I opened the box to find dozens and dozens of envelopes and small packages from names I didn't recognize. As I started sifting through the contents, mystified, I noticed a common theme: many expressed sympathy about the death of my mother in 2009, others addressed the death of my greyhound, Lucy, in 2011, and the remaining lamented the loss of my boy, Elvis, in 2012.  Confused, I took another look at the envelopes and realized that every one of them were postmarked between 2009 - 2012. 

These were condolence messages from readers of my Pet Tales column. 

Apparently, as a freelancer, the newspaper's mail room staff wasn't familiar with my (cough) brilliant prose and didn't know what to do with all the incoming mail. And so, all the letters and packages sent by caring readers languished in a dark corner of the basement until--fast forward to 2014-- someone had the foresight to look me up. 

Hence the box on my porch.

The outpouring of love, sympathy and support expressed in every piece of correspondence was so overwhelming that eventually I had to stop.  Each card and letter brought back a flood of fresh memories, like I'd just lost my mom, Lucy and Elvis, days ago, and not years.  I set aside the box of letters to read at a later date; perhaps when I wasn't caught off guard about revisiting these painful periods in my life.

That date was today. Appropriately enough, Memorial Day. A day of memories.

Sifting through the letters, I again found myself overwhelmed, but this time I knew what I was diving into and was emotionally prepared. Each card and letter was like a loving hug from a pair of warm arms who felt my pain and wanted to make me feel better. Some sent photos, others shared similar experiences or comforting books, a few sent invitations for therapeutic hikes or meditation retreats. I was amazed that these readers--total strangers--took the time to buy a card or write a letter, and pen messages of such depth and compassion.  

And I was equally mortified that they hadn't received a response from me. A "thank you" for their thoughtful words.  Of course, they had no way of knowing that their letters hadn't been received. They probably just thought I was too busy or didn't care.

But I do care.  Very much.

And so, I'll be busy the next few weekends, sending emails, dropping notes. I want each reader to know that their kind words, however late, were very much appreciated.

Because no matter what the postmark says, it's never too late to return a hug.

I Love Lucy = Mom

Woke up this morning with a chihuahua on my stomach and a greyhound at my feet. Not a bad way to greet the day if you love your four-legged children as much as I do. The greyhound, mine, the chihuahua, a house guest that I'm very fond of.

Rolled out of bed and made myself a latte on my 25-year old Krups espresso machine, read the Sunday Chronicle while listening to KFOG's Acoustic Sunrise, then loaded up the "kids" in the car for a ride to the park. Went for a nice long walk on trails that were empty since it was still quite early for a Sunday morning. Clear skies and warm temps, but with gusty winds that had leaves twirling, branches flying, and threatened turning the chihuahua into a helium balloon on a leash. 

Returned home, dropped off the dogs, and ran to Safeway for a few necessary supplies: chocolate chips, flour, butter, parchment paper. Came home and vacuumed, mopped, dusted, did laundry, changed the linen. 

Kept busy, busy, busy. 

Then I whipped up a batch of my favorite comfort "food," chocolate chip cookies. I snacked on raw cookie dough (yes, it has raw eggs and no, I don't care) while the rest baked in the oven, filling my home with yummy, chocolaty smells. Finally, I snuggled on the sofa to watch the I Love Lucy marathon I'd recorded earlier. 

I Love Lucy was my mom's favorite program. She never tired of watching Lucy's crazy antics, even if she'd just seen the same "Lucy goes on a diet" episode a few days earlier. I remember epic battles between Mom and Dad when, as a one-TV household, 7:00 pm would roll around and it was time to choose between reruns of Star Trek or I Love Lucy. 

Lucy always won.

Today I Love Lucy too, but now more than ever because the series reminds me so much of my mom, down to the heavy Spanish accent she shared with Ricky Ricardo. My best friend, my coach, my confident, my greatest fan, my loving mom. She isn't here this Mother's Day for me to cherish and care for in her old age, as I'd hoped to do. 

And so, I watched I Love Lucy instead. No doubt, Mom would have approved. 

GoD And DoG

This morning on KFOG's Acoustic Sunrise, my favorite radio personality, Rosalie Howarth, played a song so simple and eloquent, it took my breath away. It's been around since 2009--how have I not heard this before? But maybe you haven't either. 

And so, for all my dog-loving friends, here it is, with a link to the video. I hope you find it as touching as I do.

GoD And DoG

by Wendy J. Francisco 

"I look up and I see God, I look down and see my dog.

Simple spelling G O D, same word backwards, D O G.

They would stay with me all day. I'm the one who walks away.

But both of them just wait for me, and dance at my return with glee.

Both love me no matter what - divine God and canine mutt.
I take it hard each time I fail, but God forgives, dog wags his tail.

God thought up and made the dog, dog reflects a part of God.
I've seen love from both sides now, it's everywhere, amen, bow wow.

I look up and I see God, I look down and see my dog.
And in my human frailty...I can't match their love for me."