Yesterday I forgot to post.  I would like to say I was too busy--that I didn’t have time, but I wasn’t busy...I forgot.  In my defense...I have no defense.  I think I may be getting old.  I don’t know for sure what the number is when that happens.  I thought I was old when I turned sixty, but looking back, I was a kid back then. It was twenty-two years ago. 

I was thanking God last night for all the things I still have--that many of my friends my age have lost.  Hearing, eyesight, teeth, hair, mind--I think I still have my mind.  Sometimes we worry about things we have lost instead of being thankful for what is left.  I can still navigate my way to church and the grocery store.  I don’t need help getting to appointments.

But as you age, you go through series of grief when something is gone.  For me this year, it is the garden.  I won’t plant a garden again.  Scott always sends me “Jet Star” tomatoes.  I’ll plant those, but not the okra or beans.  The asparagus comes back on its own.  I’ll buy parsley plants.

I can’t make it to the end of the block to walk Squig anymore.  Maybe my pain management doctor can fix that.  But so far, he hasn’t been able to fix me.  I’m still hopeful.  I’m sad for Squig that I can’t walk him.

I’m the oldest leaf on the tree in my family.  I think that’s called the matriarch.   My brother Bill is five and a half years younger.  I thank God for what I have left.  Grieving for loss is a waste of time anyway.