Joy In The Mourning
A wail escapes that echos off the tile. This is my new normal.
These days I’m ok with the damp eyes, the slow roll of tears down my face, finding myself sobbing, a snotty heap laying in the middle of a cold, damp floor. My wails no longer startle my dogs or my family.
Weeping may come for the night friend but joy does comes in the mourning.
I Just Can’t Remember
I sincerely thought I was going crazy. Then this fear crept in. Since I thought I was losing my mind, I worried I would lose my memories
Pasta
I messaged my sweet friend Ms. Wesley and asked how she was doing. She knew exactly what I meant. I wasn’t looking for platitudes or “I’m fine”. She knew I truly wanted to know how she was handling the days, the minutes, the silence, the loss. See, she lost someone she loves very much and has been walking though her own complicated grief.
Her response resonated with me….
Inhale and Rest Until You Can Fly
THE CALL…THE LOSS…of a child, of relationships, of a church, of a hope.
This journey, for me, has looked much like a tree that lost all of its blooms, leaves and branches when the first blast of a cold winter arrives and hangs around for a while. A broken tree trunk that has to be scraped in multiple places to find any green growth under the peeling bark.
Anguish that quietened the memories, dulled his scent and his touch, muted his laugh. I was so fearful I had lost it all, even the memories.