Unthanksgiving

I can’t manufacture gratitude;

Sometimes my soul is weary.

To consider my blessings only darkens my mood;

It feels false and dreary.

So I dwell for a moment in sadness or pain,

And I don’t regret this indulgence.

For when gratitude sincerely finds me again,

All the dearer its warmth and condolence.

Kim

Yesterday, I finally threw away that bottle of olive oil she gave me – the one that was in my cupboard for years. Its expiration date was long passed, but it was such a sweet gift. And sweet was the only word for her. That can sound kind of demeaning, but not here. It was more like…in spite of the gone-to-crap state of humanity, and even while she was deeply intelligent, she hung onto this sweetness. Despite a terrifying and physically debilitating stage IV cancer diagnosis – sweetness.  

She was only in her thirties when she received that news, going back to school. We shared a wall with her and her husband. They were such quiet people, and we had first one and then another not-quiet kid. They never complained or seemed irritated. I know I didn’t ever get to know her well, and in the privacy of her own home, maybe she was different; I can only speak to the way she interacted with me, and that was with uncommon kindness.  

I asked her sometimes when we were both out on our decks how things were going. They seemed quite private, but she always shared in a straightforward and unembarrassed way. By the time we moved, she’d had a miraculous improvement. She told it like it was over. So when I saw online not so very long after we moved that she was gone, it surprised me. I didn’t go back for her funeral, but I did grieve for her. And as people do, I made it about me.  

If my own sister’s diagnosis had taken a different turn… 

I should do something with my life while I still have the luxury… 

I should have done more for her… 

Most of us have some variation on these thoughts, right? Nothing original. Her death was not the first among people in my life. Death puts things in perspective more than most experiences, and yet I always fail to respond to the powerful feelings and emotions it provokes with action. I still don’t know if anything will ever really effect drive in me. I know that I often live halfway, and the folks who don’t both perplex and impress me.  

What I do understand is that the people we meet inform our experience and understanding of humanity and the world. I’m so grateful to have known this person who always made me feel better about people, who strengthened my belief in kindness. I hope that this legacy is one that would please her. I endeavor to pass it on to some other unsuspecting person who needs a reminder that people can be simply good sometimes.  

I’m blessed to have many people in my life who choose and exemplify goodness. I don’t mean to imply that I’m surrounded by ugliness, it’s just that her demeanor was so striking in its simplicity and continuity. Maybe that’s because I didn’t know her well enough to see her any other way or because her abrupt departure served to distill her character, but regardless of the reason, hers is a face I often see when I think about our nobler traits.  

Rest well, Kim.