LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL
Monday 09.16.13 
I was meant to wake up early this morning and shoot a style post for today, as we often do when the late afternoon temperatures are creeping up to well past 105 degrees and I know if I don't get it done early it will be a sweat mustache-y affair later in the day. But I didn't, couldn't. I don't have it in me. So today, instead of fashion I want to talk about what's going on behind the scenes. You know, my actual life outside of yummy food, pretty clothes, travel adventures and inspiring interweb entertainment. I hope that's ok. I'll go back to my regular scheduled programming just as soon as I'm able, promise.
This trip to Maine I've been blogging and instagramming the ever loving balls out of, it was a heavy one. I think I ate so many of my feelings I gained 5 solid pounds. I'm not exaggerating. And it was as delicious as it was difficult, don't get me wrong. {more after the jump}
I imagine that going "home", to the place where you grew up, is always one of mixed emotions. But it is especially so for me, and especially so on this trip. My grandmother, one of the sharpest, wittiest women I've ever been so lucky to know, is being slowly taken over by age and time. She's still hilarious, more so as the filter that's kept her from being outright outrageous for most of her life is now down and she says whatever pops into her mind- which is often absurd, perverse, and almost always gut-bustingly funny.
She's added the words "c*ock, f*ck and sh*t into heavy rotation*, and though cussing is a regular part of our family language, the intensity and frequency has dramatically increased. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. But although I didn't realize it at the time, it was that kind of laughter, that almost manic laughter, that could so very easily have switched to sobs. But I wasn't feeling any of the sadness, I only felt the joy. I was completely present and also undeniably suppressing all of the emotions I was experiencing, until last night. But more on that later.
My heart breaks at seeing her slowly going away from us. It crushed me to hear her ask my aunt if I've been to visit while I sat 5 feet in front of her, to see her confusion and disbelief when we told her we'd been to visit the day before as well, to see her slide in and out of herself, her lucidity slippery like water in hands. But during the two days we spent with her I did as much laughing as possible, I hugged her and tried to burn into my memory her big brown eyes full of fiery mischief, her laugh, the papery softness of her skin. Oh that Grandma skin, there's nothing better I swear it. I will remember this as my skin becomes more like hers, so soft, so weathered and full of stories, so heart- breakingly lovable.
She's beautiful, even in her old age there are moments when I look at her and am just so taken with her beauty that I can think of nothing else. When she puts her lipstick on I can almost see her as a she was when she was young, as an actress on stage, traveling around the country as national president of the VFW Auxilary, mother to three young girls. I hope that someday I may be just like her: beautiful, fiery, soft.
There were other highly emotional aspects of our trip, too personal for me to write about. I can tell you this with one thousand percent certainty: if I had the nerve, desire and writing ability I could pen a New York Times bestseller about my life and family. And this was the kind of trip that could inspire a sad, achingly beautiful Indie film. Garden State comes to mind.
Still, during our week in Maine I felt happiness, but little else. In hindsight I realize that there was something strange about that. But physically I felt fine. I didn't have a single Crohn's symptom in spite of my wildly off-track diet. I felt better even than before we left. I attribute this to my survivor's instinct, I'm nothing if not a complete survivor and years of experience have prepared me for a trip like this.
Yesterday, our first day home, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I blamed jet lag. I blamed the lobster rolls. I blamed the desert heat and my hormones. I had waves of nausea throughout the day that stopped me in my tracks, where it felt like my insides wanted OUT. I wondered, could my body be rejecting VEGETABLES? We had a laugh over it, maybe I've had it backwards all along- the secret to health is Maine lobster rolls, not kale. It was funny-not funny.
Last night I couldn't sleep (*as an aside, WHO COULD AFTER THAT EPISODE OF BREAKING BAD?!) Lou crawled into bed next to me. I made a mental note to pay more attention the benign sounds of life, his feet padding across the concrete floor, the sheets peeling back and him adjusting his pillows the same way he adjusts his pillows every night, the bed shifting as he rolled onto his side, the comfort those sounds brought me. THIS, I thought, THIS is the real beauty in life. PAY MORE ATTENTION, I told myself.
"Lou", I whispered in the dark, "Do you think it's strange that I didn't feel anything in Maine, with my family?" He told me that of course I felt things in Maine. I promised him, I didn't, not the way I felt I should at least. This started the quiet conversation that opened the flood-gates. I won't go into great detail here, but I can tell you that he held me as a lifetime's worth of sadness flooded out of me. Primal sadness tore through my body, it wanted OUT. I realized, that nausea I'd been experiencing all day was these emotions. It reminded me, there's nothing about our systems that isn't entirely tied together, that my body is processing the things that my mind and heart aren't ready to.
I wrote this post for myself but sometimes I believe that sharing struggles is what truly connects us. I want you to know that if you're going through some hard times, you are not alone. We really are all in this together. Today, as everyday, be as kind to yourself as you can manage. Life is beautiful, it's messy, it's wildly complicated and the greatest roller coaster ride we'll ever experience. Hang on.
Photo credit to Lou, who deserves all the credit in the world. I love you Lou Mora. You are my buoy, my lighthouse, my rock, my lobster {roll}. I treasure every minute I have with you. xx- Sarah
*I suppose I felt that subbing out letters of the cuss words would make it somehow less offensive to those of you who are offended by that language. But in hindsight I'm not ok with that. I cuss like a pirate, it's part of my colorful, often crazy, wildly loveable history and something that is an undeniable part of who I am, something that ties me to my Gram. So: fuck, shit, cock. No apologies. There. That's for you Gram! I love you beyond measure.
life 
Reader Comments (49)
Hello-
Wow, thank you for sharing so bravely. Whenever I read something, written in honesty, I am so humbled and inspired. I realize now that the only thing that truly moves me is honesty, deep brave, honesty. Thank you for your deep brave honesty. Those brave souls, such as yourself, is what sparks us all and makes life worth living. We all just want to feel something deeply.
Warmly (hugs)
Kat
iloveyou.
This post hit wildly close to home for me. I think about my grandmother often, her skin, it's softness and her tiny gold watch that rested against it for all those years. Dealing with my family day in and day out is always a mixed bag of emotions, and each struggle or moment of laughter leads me back to missing my grandmother so dearly. Thank you for sharing and for being my reminder today that life is beautiful in all of it's messiness and especially in all of those seemingly mundane moments.
It's definitely all connected. This post made me tear up at work. Sending you all the love!! xx
What a beautiful heartfelt post. Thank you.
Thank you all for being here, in this, with me. Your kind words are everything. xx
you fucking rock, sarah. thanks for being so refreshing.
Sending lots of warmth and love to you, lady. Big big BIG fucking love ;) XOXX