In the past year, I've typed out here much of what I was discovering about grief, what I was learning about myself and the world following the loss of my father. The lessons always whisper, and never end.
When I think about this past year, I see that it's the little things that have been the most meaningful, and the most healing. Sounds, scents, a phone call, all have reached into my soul and mined my sadness in a way that broad gestures couldn't touch. I've learned that simple remedies heal the deepest ills. The love that springs from a friend, a quiet sunrise, the laughter of children at play. When you are an expressive person, it's a dangerous game to lock your feelings away. I've tried hard this year to face sadness and not hide it where it would catch me later and cripple me. I've tried to keep my thoughts and words in a healing tone. Choices are possible and this was the right choice for me. I've consciously chosen not to let the world steal the peace I find, not to fret about every little thing, and to get up and do on the days it would be so easy to stay lying down.
Certain things in life are not ours to alter. So too with death. We have to take what we can and go on. It's a choice that sometimes has to be made everyday. I choose to watch for the magic that tickles my heart in memory of him. I choose to listen for peace.
2 comments:
bubbles help. its better if you have a couple of two year old to blow them for, but i bet your dog would play just as hard. if not, theres a peace in blowing bubbles and watching them drift.
There's lots of choices to be made. Seems choices are the subject of the day. Making a decision and choosing between holding on or letting go is the choice you have to make to deal with it rather than deal with it by not dealing with it. I'm still learning that one.
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