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Onions Don't Make Me Cry...

 

...Anymore.  As I  prepared Christmas meal for my now shrunken  family of three, I began to peel the skin off an onion.  As I did, I realized for the first time that I hadn't cried peeling, nor chopping an onion in over a year now.

I paused and stared at the now mostly peeled onion in my left hand, "Huh." I sighed. Then stated outloud, "Onions don't make me cry ...anymore.". I pondered the statement for a moment. 

I again repeated the thought outloud to myself.  "Hmph." Had I been so pushed, that I disregarded the reaction an onion had ALWAYS  had on me? Then, I reckoned deeper. I thought back to my first thoughts laying in bed this Christmas morning. 

As I reflected to earlier this morning laying there in bed, now alone. I then reflected further back to my husband's and my conversation a year ago. The two of us laying there in bed, staring at the ceiling. As the new consciousness of his inevitable death was on our minds and in our conversations. Only two days prior to December 25th 2019, did he realize he was in his last days, weeks, months of what he knew to be his earthly journey here on earth. His parenthesis in eternity was coming to an end.

I remember feeling his shattered innocence of loss that was incomprehensible to him at that moment.  I hesitated. I hesitated because what I was about to say seemed near damning, yet, it was out of compassion to him. Then, I got the guts to say what I felt or wished I could do for him,  "Honey. I'm so sorry it's you and not me." I paused, I feared telling him what and why I'd felt that way. 

I began, "Please don't misconstrue what I say here now."  The Silence, stillness prevailed... for seemingly moments,  "But, you are so innocent.  It's such a slam to you.  Why did Life pick on you this way? I'm more ready than you are. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's you. I know too much..."

Then the fleeting thoughts arrived me back to present, holding the now peeled onion on my wood cutting board.  Another reflection of last night's storm. The howling wind remained in my mind as I chopped the onion, listening to the bacon rumble low on the stove nearby.

My thoughts crawled back to the drip from the ceiling of a slight leak from gushes of rain during the storm. Once I secured a bucket at 1:15am what became Christmas Day 2020. I shrugged, "Oh well. I'll call What's his face Saturday.  Not much I can do now." I went on to check walls and floors in our home, then check on the children... who are nearly adults now.
I prayed,  brushed my teeth, and checked our pets water bowl. I went back upstairs to the bathroom.

As I began to check my rigged up water-catcher... the leak had stopped. It seemed that it was merely a quarter cup of rain had come through. "Hmph. I guess you answered that prayer. Huh? God. Yo, Thanks. Let's keep it that way Buddy. Yeah I'm calling Pete Saturday.  I won't forget."

As I finished chopping the onion I reasoned, why onions don't make me cry... anymore. Its the going through stuff I've gone through, the knowing how much I can NOT control. Yet having Faith and knowing small things will perhaps be thrown our way to see if we have a 'chink' in our armor. --- Jody-Lynn Reicher

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