This is so beautiful -- and reflects exactly where I'm at in this stage of my life. Repeated loss makes it feel safer to close down, to retreat. However, each connection carries the potential for so much beauty as well. Thank you for this reminder. Your blue azures will stay with me for a long time, I know.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see memory and devotion. Love notes and paper hugs taped to the wall, from both her daughters.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see presence and loyalty. The three different types of slippers ordered until we found one she likes.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see creativity and compassion. The ginger ale in her favorite turquoise cup, with bent patient straw. The poetry book proof, hurriedly printed to make sure it got into her hands and ears and heart. In time. In time.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. Gratitude and Grace, Grief’s quiet sisters, are here holding space, watching each breath, with love.
Grace strand in grief’s braid?
Yes, embedded, unbidden.
There’s room for both, more?
“…the promise of deeper rest that comes as we progress toward winter.”
You articulated one more reason why autumn is my favorite season.
A lovely piece, James.
This is so beautiful -- and reflects exactly where I'm at in this stage of my life. Repeated loss makes it feel safer to close down, to retreat. However, each connection carries the potential for so much beauty as well. Thank you for this reminder. Your blue azures will stay with me for a long time, I know.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection. I needed this reminder about the gatherings not the singularity of feelings. 💕
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see memory and devotion. Love notes and paper hugs taped to the wall, from both her daughters.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see presence and loyalty. The three different types of slippers ordered until we found one she likes.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. I see creativity and compassion. The ginger ale in her favorite turquoise cup, with bent patient straw. The poetry book proof, hurriedly printed to make sure it got into her hands and ears and heart. In time. In time.
Grief is not the only thing in the room. Gratitude and Grace, Grief’s quiet sisters, are here holding space, watching each breath, with love.