[Kenna]

Been a while since I've felt like posting anything of substance. But this subject spoke to me.

I've had some major changes since October of last year.

One of my dearest friends, who I used to spend many holidays with, passed away from pancreatic cancer before Thanksgiving last year. It was horrendous to watch her go through that. I lost more than a friend, I lost a home where I felt so much love.

I've tried this year to make sure others that are in my personal circle do not feel alone, yet I've felt some of the deepest loneliness I've ever experienced.

I went through some relationship trauma this year that taught me how truly deeply I am confident and secure in being single and alone. I'm good with that.

I watched a couple close friends experience their grief at losing family members and how they faced certain holidays in a year without their family members. How profound it changed how they felt and quietly grieved.

One of those friends is my 92 year old neighbor that I've cared for, for several years, even though she's fiercely independent. She's alone now that her husband of 33 years is gone. And she's had a major falling out with her daughter who lives in another state. So she has no one except a few local friends that occasionally check on her.

I try to make sure she never spends a major holiday alone. Even though Thanksgiving and Christmas are extremely difficult for me, as I actually find comfort in being alone then because of some deep family trauma regarding my kids and abusive mother. But "Mrs M" is very lonely as this is her first time ever being alone.

On November 20th, I had major surgery to fuse my spine. It's been excruciatingly painful and I seriously just wanted to "stay in my nest" while my best friend and roommate went to be with his family. But at the last minute, I decided to call "Mrs M" and ask her if she didn't mind "watching over me" for a few hours Thanksgiving day? She was absolutely delighted and said "I'd love to be your nurse. You know how much I love you."
So my friend delivered me to her that morning, as I could hardly move without searing pain, much less drive. Mrs M met me at the door with hugs and treats. She was so thrilled to help me settle into the couch and tuck her blankets around me. Then she sat nearby as she told me about all the baking she did the day before. Around noon, she made us a delicious, simple meal of chicken salad and her homemade pumpkin pie and it made her day to serve me and make me comfortable. I got to see her laugh and smile, which has been difficult with her depression. As I sat there nearly in tears from pain, her happiness and companionship meant so
much to me.

You see, for many years, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I deeply crave to be alone. But this year meant something so spiritually different for me. Especially in my grief, I saw other people's loneliness and need. And it reminded me that I need to sometimes put my comfort zone and craving to be alone aside.