"There's more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line..."
Glimmers. I've seen the word before in others' writings, and I've referred to it elsewhere in this blog. It's so easy to get stuck, mired, enveloped in the fog of grief. Getting out of bed each morning feels insurmountable... putting one foot in front of the other to get through the day is challenging... coming to grips that your loved one is gone forever is still impossible to fathom. And for a while that's all you can see. Darkness. Yeah, I realize the irony.
Yet, every once in a while, glimmers appear. Small, brief, barely recognizable... but they're there. Like fireflies. And they speak of possibilities.
And it won't be the default anytime soon, but Fun is finding its way back into our MossFam dynamic... and Laughter... and Joy. Rob uncharacteristically called a Family Dinner into action tonight (it's usually *me* herding the cats). I picked up pizza on the way over to Sarah's. The theme was "New Year, New Me, New E". There was a heartfelt toast. We didn't know what to expect, but it morphed into an evening with Willie Nelson, Bette Midler/Annie, Will from Stranger Things, a mermaid, Slash, Kris Jenner (and Kris Jenner as a blonde!), and a cranky Dennis the Menace who was not amused, had to be bribed with brownies, and even then snarled his way through our photo-ops. And it was very good... 💖💖💖💖💖
"It's only life after all, yeah..."
BOOK: Grief Glimmers Grace by Betsy B. Murphy
POEM(S): The Edge by Donna Ashworth
Standing at the edge of a new chapter can be scary.
POEM(S): The Edge by Donna Ashworth
Standing at the edge of a new chapter can be scary.
The desire to run back into the pages you know so well,
is more than tempting. But you must keep moving.
Chapters end, even the good ones.
And if you linger in the past too long,
your story cannot unfold the way it should.
And you might just miss the most beautiful moments of your life,
whilst grieving the ones gone by.
It’s scary at the edge, my friend, I know.
But just jump. You have so much ahead.
And the good stuff behind, will always be there.
The Way It Is by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Over and over we break
open, we break and
we break and we open.
For a while, we try to fix
the vessel—as if
to be broken is bad.
As if with glue and tape
and a steady hand we
might bring things to perfect
again. As if they were ever
perfect. As if to be broken is not
also perfect. As if to be open
is not the path toward joy.
The vase that’s been shattered
and cracked will never
hold water. Eventually
it will leak. And at some
point, perhaps, we decide
that we’re done with picking
our flowers anyway, and no
longer need a place to contain them
We watch them grow just
as wildflowers do—unfenced,
unmanaged, blossoming only
when they’re ready—and my god,
how beautiful they are amidst
the mounting pile of shards.
QUOTE(S): "Without suffering, there's no happiness. So we shouldn't discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
“Don’t get me wrong: grief sucks, it really does. Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit.” ~ Anne Lamott
"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~ Rumi
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