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Renee Writes Now!

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Renee Writes Now!

Tag Archives: love

Emotional objects

05 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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author, Family, inspiration, Life, love, relationships, writing

robe

I own a new bathrobe.

It’s Turkish white cotton and it replaces one that I have worn since 2007. When my mother died, I brought her bathrobe home with me and, for a decade, it served as the hug she could no longer deliver. It wasn’t expensive – its value was in its sentiment. Big and fluffy, it tumbled through the washer and dryer thousands of times until loose threads began to appear and, like my mother, it perished.

Finally, I was ready to let it go. Parting with an item (like a robe) may simply be a matter of accepting the end of certain relationships and understanding how the physical objects around us have served as their emotional accomplices.

I still miss my mother, of course, but I think she would be pleased to see me wrapped in a new bathrobe – especially one that looks a lot like hers.

 

 

Renee Garrison is the award-winning author of The Anchor Clankers.

Keeping loved ones close

06 Tuesday Aug 2019

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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Tags

cremation, death, inspiration, Life, loss, love

Blog Kathy2

“I need your help.”
Kathy’s voice quavered on the phone – not unusual for a woman whose husband recently died.
I arrived at her home to find her holding a silver bracelet with a hidden compartment for ashes, a filling kit and a tiny screwdriver. Her hands shook.
Following the cremation of a loved one, many people like Kathy aren’t sure of the best way to store the ashes. Rather than placing all of the cremains in one large urn, cremation jewelry is a way to share the ashes with family (who may want to keep a small portion) or simply to keep a loved one close. [See: “Remembering Mom,” May 4, 2014]
My sister opted for a glass pendant that was made using a small amount of our mother’s ashes. I chose a gold teardrop charm, which I’ve worn to weddings, graduations and birthday celebrations. (My mother loved a good party.)
No one knows who/what I am wearing, just as no one admiring Kathy’s bracelet will suspect its contents. Yet, the simple act of wearing these items helps us cope with the loss of someone we loved.
Indeed, jewelry offers such a splendid form of therapy.

Keep those cards and letters coming

02 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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Community, Family, Life, love, Memories

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In the days of cell phones, email and text messages, letter writing can seem hopelessly outdated. My son recently informed me of his refusal to support the greeting card industry so I should not expect a Mother’s Day card.
Fortunately, I’ve saved a drawer full of handwritten notes from him as well as from his sister:
“Mom, I feel like lately we’ve gotten to be really close and I can talk to you about almost anything.”

To their father:

“I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have you as my dad. I hope you can come and visit me often in Chicago.”

I have no idea how to convey to my child that writing and receiving letters will always offer an experience that modern technology cannot touch. Twitter is fine for broadcasting what you’re eating for lunch, and email is fantastic for quick exchanges of pertinent information. But when it comes to sharing your true thoughts, sincere sympathies, ardent love, and deepest gratitude, words traveling along an invisible superhighway will never suffice. Why?

The impact of handwritten cards and letters lasts far longer than any text or email offered in our high-tech world. Years after they are written and sent (and even after their senders and receivers are gone), letters remain to be read, appreciated and preserved. I love seeing the familiar handwriting of my late grandmother and grandfather on old documents. Letters protect our memories in a way that technological communication cannot. They are tangible, personal and real, in every sense of the word.

Computers and smart phones may prove more efficient, but they can never take the place of this kind of sentimental history.

Letters create lasting memories.

 

 

Renee Garrison is the award-winning author of “The Anchor Clankers.”

Love and support

05 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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children, gay, grandparents, lesbian, love, marriage, parenting, Support

A woman I’d known for 20 years pulled me aside at a luncheon and asked me to autograph a copy of my book for her daughter.
“My daughter left her husband and children…for another woman.”
I stopped writing and tried to process the information as my friend lowered her voice.
“I just want you to know that I was at an emotional low point when you posted a picture of your daughter’s wedding on Facebook. I’m not as open as you – I still haven’t told the rest of my family.
“But seeing that picture of you, with your daughter and her wife, really helped me a lot at the time. I’m very grateful and I wanted you to know how much I appreciated it.”
I could hear the quiver in her voice and I hugged her.
Parents of gay children often are uncomfortable with letting other people know their truth. They fear risking jobs, reputation and family ties…persecution by those who consider homosexuality sinful. (Of course, morality presumes freedom to choose and when it comes to sexuality…but I digress.)
Sadly, parents can feel isolated, guilty and confused about where to turn.
As one mother told me, “When my daughter came out of the closet as a lesbian, I went in.”
I’m no poster child, but experience has shown me that it’s not a good idea to keep such a secret from others who might be supportive or helpful.
DSCN0103
Ultimately, my daughter’s life turned out to be exactly how I imagined it: A mortgage, a career and three children. The only difference is that she’s sharing it with a wife instead of a husband.
I certainly never wanted her to marry a man out of guilt or a desire for acceptance or because of negative attitudes in the community.
That’s simply too high a price to pay for silence about sexuality.

Renee’s gift book, “Sweet Beams: Inspiring everyone who lives under a new roof,” is available on amazon.com

Dixie

25 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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Tags

dogs, Family, Home, love, Michigan, The Tampa Tribune

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The ad in the newspaper read, “Red and blonde peek-a-poo, non-shedding, female, 8 months, 5 lbs., housebroken.”
My son has red hair and my daughter is a blonde. The dog would blend in perfectly.
They had begged for a dog for years, but I resisted. My schedule as a reporter for The Tampa Tribune (coupled with their after-school activities) was not conducive to training a puppy. I refused to acquire an animal that would simply live in a crate. But when my husband took a job in Michigan and I resigned to become “a trailing spouse,” the possibility of a pet got better.
My only requirement was size: I watched women in my neighborhood exercising large animals in the snow. Their chapped, wind-burned cheeks flamed red above their woolen scarfs. ( I watched from the comfort of my heated house and decided to buy a dog who would hate the cold weather as much as I did.)
I called the number in the newspaper and learned her name was “Mindy” but we quickly changed it to “Dixie,” in honor of our roots. We knew we would return to the South one day and we did – a decade later. However, when I left with the fluffy little dog, her bed and toys, the previous owners neglected to mention the true reason they were selling her: An aggressive personality disorder.
Turns out the dog I bought for my children didn’t really like children at all. To be precise, she didn’t like anybody.
We found ourselves explaining the baring of her teeth to house guests in veiled terms, such as, “Look, she’s smiling at you.” Undaunted, we hired a pet psychologist, who recommended we run our house like boot camp: Any affection must be earned by the dog and only expressed as a reward for positive behavior.
Fortunately our veterinarian had another solution – better living through chemistry. Dixie got her “Happy Pill” every day and our lives improved. Originally developed as a birth control pill, vets later discovered an added benefit: It eliminated both aggression and anxiety. (I never explained this to my husband as I felt certain he would suggest that I take the medication, too.)
Her saving grace was that Dixie loved me. According to justdogbreeds.com, the Pekingese “can be protective of his owner to the point of being possessive. He will need to be trained so that this protective instinct does not turn into aggression.”
Clearly, I should have researched the breed sooner. But on the plus side, Dixie was a lap warmer extraordinaire. My worst winter days were spent watching the snow fall with a cup of coffee in one hand and a dog in my lap.
In addition, she was a terrific traveler. She loved our car trips back to Florida and particularly enjoyed the biscuits from Cracker Barrel. We’d park the car in a shady spot and glance back to see her sprawled like some kind of furry “Dashboard Jesus,” watching until we returned.
Our children grew up and when our son reached 6 feet tall, Dixie mysteriously came to adore him. She also adored warm weather, and while she hated being lowered into the icy waters of Lake Michigan in her life jacket, she loved running along the beach at Cayo Costa State Park, wrestling with our son in the sand.
He left for college, just as his older sister had done. On more than one occasion when I couldn’t find Dixie, I’d see her pop out from under one of their beds, sniffing and searching for her siblings. I was grateful to have her company – the only child who never asked me for a car or to go to Mexico for Spring Break. She never wanted Prada boots or to study abroad.
My husband and I moved back to Florida in 2007 and, like us, Dixie was happy to retire to the Sunshine State. She developed a gastrointestinal disorder that recently prompted a limited prescription diet, topped with two steroid pills each week. Her gait is a bit wobbly now, due to three compressed discs in her back. Or perhaps it’s due to having vision in only one eye, since a cataract claimed the other. Still, at 16 years old, she eats with gusto and loves to be held like a baby in my arms, wrapped in an afghan, on her back.
Some days I return from running errands to find her curled up on my pillow. Her body appears frighteningly still and I hold my own breath, ignoring the searing pain in my gut that is as real as any knife wound. In those moments I whisper, “No, no, no, please – not today,” as though my uttering the words aloud might prevent the inevitable from happening.
Then her chest rises and falls, her eyes open and she sees me (with the good one) and her tail thumps a slow greeting. My own breathing resumes with a sense of relief and I remind myself that old age is not for sissies, indeed. I kiss her head and offer a prayer of thanks that she is with me for another day.
Occasionally I call my children, too, and thank them for begging me to get a dog.

The dinner table

15 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by ReneeWritesNow! in Uncategorized

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dinner table, food, heart, Home, love, Memories, Security, Support

The dinner table supports us physically and emotionally. There is a symbolic kind of common security, here, that we find in few other places. 

So if you have a difficult topic to discuss, bring it to the dining room. You can pass the potatoes, along with a lot of love.

 

Photo by Richard Ferrell

Excerpted from “Home: Celebrating the Spaces of Your Heart.”

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