What Merida Taught Me About Destiny
It has been a while since I have written here. Some things remain the same. The holidays were bittersweet without my loved ones. February remained a melancholy month filled with too many sad milestones. I acknowledge the dates and let myself feel and trod through the days in whatever mood I’m feeling. So, I guess I am more comfortable with my feelings, and I don’t feel the need to defend myself. That’s a good thing.
I have been thinking about this quote of Merida’s from Brave. “You control your destiny — you don’t need magic to do it. And there are no magical shortcuts to solving your problems.” After caregiving and grief, it took me quite a while to reshape my life. I wanted the magic that Merida knew I didn’t need, and I believe it did help, but I have been able to create a life and pursue some dreams. I am always grateful. Reshaping my life has included being intentional in honoring important events.
I have come to realize that on important dates related to Ben—his birthday, the day he died, our anniversary—I like to be on trains. He loved trains and we traveled by train to many lovely getaways. Last month, I spent his birthday returning from my own little getaway in delightful Hudson, New York. I enjoy getting away to quaint locations and having time to reflect and work on my picture book manuscripts. Although I felt a bit alone, I also felt Ben’s presence, and in those moments, I tend to look at things through his eyes, especially on the train. These retreats are a way for me to be in the present but also honor Ben and good memories. Hudson, by the way, was a favorite destination and I look forward to future visits.
Today was also an anniversary. A date about myself- that’s unusual. Three years ago, on this date, I began radiation as part of my breast cancer treatment. Thankfully, I am a survivor, and I have a wonderful medical care team. I remember my first day of radiation and crying as the nurse explained what would happen. She was so kind and understanding. But, the pain no one could take away was how alone I felt. I was always at every appointment and procedure with Ben and my dad. I was at the hospital and hospice every day. I don’t have that person, though as I have said many times, my incredible friends are always there when I need them. To be fair, my treatment was during COVID, when it was not always possible for anyone to have company. Still, I felt alone. That memory remains vivid, and it hovered in my mind today.
Throughout my treatment Central Park was a vital part of my healing. Every day after radiation, I walked to the Park. I loved the squirrels and researched the nuts and berries that were good for them. They came to recognize me and would join me on the bench. I also came to love the cardinals and blue jays, which I have written about. It felt good to spend today reflecting on that time. There were many squirrels around, which was fun and joyful. Cardinals and blue jays greeted me, which is always a wonderful sign that my loved ones are with me. Seeing the cherry blossoms starting to bloom also felt like a positive sign. I do look for signs. But, I find them. Maybe there’s some magic in there. I like to think so. I also proudly recognize that I made the choice to reconcile the sadness with positive action. That did not come easily or quickly.
I find myself always looking for ways to engage with life and to learn, while also embracing and honoring my memories. Days like today make me feel like I have taken some control over my destiny. Still, I’m not letting go of magic, dreams and pixie dust.
