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January 04, 2004
On Death
It was my grandfather's birthday this month. How is it possible to miss someone this much - I guess its called unconditional love.
But when does the grieving process end? Or does it ever?
And then I read "Thing Is" by Halley Suitt and tears came rolling down my face.......a poignant reminder to focus on what we have rather than what we don't have and to focus on their presence in our lives, rather than their loss. Their blessings to us to just go on. Moving on is a gift to them, to us, and to others in our path. And I'm convinced that the people we encounter and connect with on our journey are never an accident.
Thing is ...
Thinking about losing my dad, losing my mom,
odd word "loss", strange verb "to lose" strange
phrase, "losing people."
Thing is ... they hardly seem lost.
If anyone is lost, it is us,
trying to understand their passing.
But I do not find them gone.
They are here and don't call me crazy to say so.
Maybe they are made into lovely silk ribbons,
long rolls of gossamer, slightly champagne color,
wavering like smoke, shimmering like candlelight
through your lively life and you find they weave
themselves in and out of your mornings, your
noons, your nights. How tricky they are to find
their way into your daily day, glowing slightly, not
ghostly, but they smile back in funny ways, they
drop a tear here and there throughout the house,
and beg one of you at unlikely times.
And as we go forward, we pray to have new friends
acknowledge them very delicately, simply know that
they were here and now gone, that they are embedded
in our lives, these not-at-all-lost lovely people we just
can't call on our cell phones anymore. Never lost, perhaps
better found.
And we need others to know they are present, and that
we -- the schoolyard bullies of aliveness, living loudly in this
noisy world -- need to shove over and make room for them,
let them live in picture frames and out, let them breathe new life
into all our new ventures, new babies, new houses, new loves,
new days, tenderly whispering their blessings to us to just go on.
January 4, 2004 in On Poems, Literature & Stuff, Reflections | Permalink
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