there are days my feet walk well, i stand tall....i speak with steadiness....i have clear eyes.
then, something happens and i find myself touched in the tender place of loss...
this time, it was listening to a friend tell my friend's mother--my dear friend who just died...what she needed to do....."you need to eat, you need to ...., you need to............and on and on..."
all said to sayto her with deep love, "take care of yourself" you need to.
then i said to her....with a dear tenderness..."you can do what i did....and she turned and looked at me...and i said, "you can drink." and she said..".it would help the pain, wouldn't it?"
and i said, "it did help me"
and my other friend said--"don't tell her that!"
and I said, as i looked at my friend's mom..."she hasn't lost a child, she doesn't know....."
ugh...
it is amazing that any of us who has let go of our dearest child's hand, ever stood up again.
now, i don't live there in that place, but i still know how to find it...and it is sometimes very close....i remember the air...the feel, the horror of the days of those early moments--that still cross my doorstep, sometimes too often, most times...no one knows.
another holiday coming...another full moon....more and more your voice is softer in my memory...it is harder to remember....
i miss you.
i miss you.
i miss you.
4 comments:
Love to you, dear Chris.
Encircling you in a cyber-hug from here, Chris. I'm so grateful that you spoke to your friend's mother from your heart. Those are the best gifts - heartfelt love and honesty - not the "shoulds."
Makes me weep...all so true. My heart is aching again so much...Christmas blues, I guess. The longing, the fading memories, the memories of those early days of loss which I can't believe I lived through. You describe it all so well. I was impressed with a friend's pastor--when her house burned to the ground, he brought her a new Bible and a bottle of scotch. Kinda says it all.
Love to you and warmth and comfort on this tender holiday. I am so thankful for the fellowship of your words.
The journey is long for sure. Sometimes I hate the darkness of my own words in the pain of grief that can still find its way to the surface...but it is there...and it helps to know you three are there--and feel you close. bless you guys.
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