Through the Keyhole
THROUGH THE KEYHOLE
Fly
Fly
He wasn't just a man who died too young. He was my son, his pain was done, and he left, that's all.
He isn't just a memory, or a tragedy.
And God knows I miss him, but the tears are for me.
He was born in pain, and suffered years. He traded colors for his tears.
He saw a world above his mind, and drew the doors he couldn't find,
The Anguish of Love Lost In Grief
Source Article
TEARS are the attempt at reconciling such a depth of emotion that cannot ever be understood. When that one is lost - that father with a young son, the father who was needed for some decades to come, the father whose life is cut way too short, so suddenly - it leaves us completely bereft of viable response. What can be done? What can possibly be done.
Turn, Turn, Turn
It’s been a very long, cold winter this year. There were days in March, as the stinging cold air hung on, and the piles of snow continued to get larger, not smaller, that I wasn’t sure the warmth of spring was ever going to come.
Some Times Pulling Weeds is All You Can Do
I was listening to a podcast on equanimity through spirit rock the other evening. A recommendation by a friend who is also grieving, but wanting to be helpful. He recommended it to me hoping I would find some value in it. The section I listened too that he felt was of value said this:
