Scattered Truths, Eights Years Later

1. He doesn't want me at the grave. 
My senses arrest
whenever I go. 
I don't understand.

Only the tangible part of him is there -
I know. 
But sometimes it's easier to think of him at a certain place. 

2. I worked so hard to 
process my loss;
find my core again;
live with intention and appreciation.

Grief can still be a formidable river.

3. I'm glad I made the choice to move forward. 
A mind shift is how I explain it - 
acceptance of life as joy and sorrow,
acceptance of the rewards and disappointments within all relationships,
acceptance of answers I won't find in this life,
acceptance of loving again and needing occasional help.

4. I may not have thought about him today. 
We were so busy. And happy. 
Swimming,
walking,
playing at the park,
listening to live music,
strengthening friendships. 
Being a mom is the best thing to ever happen to me. 

5. Fear's nightly storm crushes me rarely now.
Did I ever think the rain would let up?

I drive again, almost any distance. 
I don't envision loved ones dying - unless there is a powerful trigger. 
I can speak about acceptance and truly mean it five minutes, five hours, five days later. 

6. Kaleidoscope living:
We are broken pieces and whole pieces
creating new patterns
as we shift and look up into the Light.

7. My heart will always ache when to my mind he comes
and that's okay.
My heart swells for our beautiful life, as it does for the beauty surrounding me now.