When I set my yearly intention for 2020, I framed it up with four words: a noun (clarity), a verb (cultivate), a color (green) and a feeling (joy). These remain at the top of my Word document that inform my daily pursuits and is an intentional reminder of how I want to live each day. I had clarity that I would focus my professional energies on my responsibilities as the Executive Director of Raleigh City Farm. I would continue to cultivate my own personal well-being, that of my family and friends as well as other core community service projects. I would revel in the natural world and steward all of the green spaces and plants that I love inside and outside my home, at the Farm and at our retreat in Boone. Lucky me. And finally, I would unabashedly pursue joy.
I added a fifth word to my frame - sorrow - when the unimaginable became a reality. When my eldest and only sister, Laurie, was taken away by a tragic car accident on August 9th. Everyone can recall a moment when your world changed. When you’ve had the most beautiful day, then the phone rings and you hear news that brings you to your knees. I’m grappling with denial and disbelief and recognize the trauma that is part of my journey. I’ve been showered with flowers and gifts and so much love and support from a community with boundless generosity. I’ve reached out and pulled back and watched my mind and body come to terms with this devastating loss.
And I continue to be amazed at the relentless beauty that surrounds me and the joy that it brings. A bike ride to the NCMA to view the sunflower, zinnia and cosmos field with a friend. The inside of a zinnia that I planted at the Farm that I will harvest, turn into a bouquet and sell to a grateful customer. A perfect piece of key lime pie made by my loving husband who has my back at every twist and turn. The faces of my sons on our weekly Zoom call. The moss on rocks in the woods. The gleaming “gazing ball” gifted by a neighbor that resides in my garden as a memorial. The hummingbirds that alight on our salvia in the morning. The morning light in my newly painted bedroom and the feel of pale pink linen sheets when I retire at night.
As the last one standing in my original family of four, I recognize and honor my responsibility to carry on the Grele Family legacy and the daunting task of experiencing joy for four. This is an intention that can further fuel my purpose on this journey of grief. Good Grief. So much love to those who are holding my hand and heart.