Prepare for takeoff

Flying pig hell freezing
Flying pig hell freezing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I bought a flying pig today.

A glittery, green flying pig. I’ve just hung this little gal on my Christmas tree as a dangling reminder that we all must coexist peacefully with the unexpected, the inexplicable and the improbable.

Two years ago, if you would have told my younger self that she would be without both of her parents in 2012, she would not have believed you. If you then would have told her that she would be facing also losing a sister to ovarian cancer, she would have scoffed at you—telling you cancer doesn’t even run in the family. And if you would have then put the cherry on top—that she’d be forced to end a marriage for the good of all involved—well, she would have shown you the door.

How quickly things change.

What I’ve realized over the past two years is that it is all fleeting. Until you get that in a very real way, a concrete can’t-go-back kind of way, you’re just playing at life.

Hence the green pig. Rather than a reminder of what’s been, of unanticipated pain, she is a reminder that the upcoming year will bring its fair share of the unexpected and inexplicable. But this little pork chop is a harbinger of good, I believe. She is a reminder to myself that a year from now, I will look back in amazement at how far I’ve come, at how much I’ve achieved, at how full of love and joy life can be.

And each dream I hold dear—my most outlandish aspirations—has a very real chance of being realized.

When pigs fly.

They already are, on my Christmas tree. How about yours?

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18 Comments Add yours

  1. Jill Cisar says:

    I love reading your blogs. I didn’t know any of this. I am so sorry for everything that is going on in your life. You are a great person and I can’t wait to catch up in Jewel again! I hope you have a nice Christmas with your beautiful boys!

  2. Amy Blenkhorn says:

    You may think this coincidental but the other night before reading your post I chose the pig on the historic carousel in Greenfield Village telling Anne, Aunt Penny and Carol that it was a reminder of life and when pigs fly – by the way my pig was also eating an ear of corn!

  3. Carla Carpenter says:

    I got chill bumps reading this. Thank you.
    When my dad passed away someone told me of a Native American belief that when a parent dies they never really leave you, they are a “part of your bones”. Always present, always a source of your strength and stability. I know this is true.

    1. candidkay says:

      Oh, Carla. That brings tears to my eyes. Thank you for that thought. That’s how I feel. Like my mom and dad have been more here with me each day than they were when alive and back in Ohio. I feel their strength.

      1. Carla says:

        funny how that works….and lucky for us.

  4. Anne says:

    To y beautiful and talented sister, I love you.

    1. candidkay says:

      Right back ‘atcha: Love you more than you know . . .

  5. Ann Reichard McHugh says:

    Owe you a call. Love your posts. Sent your first post to my sisters and mother. They loved it. Hope things are continuing in a positive direction. Take care. xo

    1. candidkay says:

      Send my love to the Reichard clan, Annie:) And YES, you owe me a call! I’m waiting:) Remember those family dinners where you could hardly get a word in edgewise? Your house even more chaotic than mine? 🙂 I miss those . . .

  6. candidkay says:

    HI, Emily–sounds like you’ve had your share of losses also. Follow your gut. It never lies. And best on your journey . . .

  7. emilylonging says:

    Holy crap you’ve had a tough time. I’m sorry for your losses and I wish you well this holiday season.

  8. Julie says:

    thanks for sharing. Love the analogy of the flying pig. 2013 will bring much goodness.

    1. candidkay says:

      Promise? 🙂 Hope it does for you too, Julie. Thanks for reading.

  9. Michele Ritter says:

    Love this post, K! I can so relate…my trials not being quite so recent as yours. But, having survived them, despite being absolutely certain that I wouldn’t at the time, I realize that life’s lessons can sometime be downright cruel. Of course, nothing about the path that I have traveled has been predictable. My career has taken me from big corporate suits, to self-employed-jeans-wearing florist, and now I work at a hospital! ME OF ALL PEOPLE!!!! And you, of all people, have always been one of the most solid and steady characters I have known. You are still you, despite the years, the hardships and the challenges. Rock on, sister. I need to find me a flying pig…

    1. candidkay says:

      MIss these talks! Sure you don’t want to leave the Sunshine state? 🙂

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