It's still a little early, so a little chilly and not as bright, but, I promise to dial up some sunshine here.
Today I took a breather. Just me and the trees, with a few flowers that followed along. I used to think I could do it all, but, it has taken me a while to figure out that can't do it all at once. I need some time, choosing my moments carefully. I breathe deep and take it all in, leaving no breath behind.
Many Springs back, I said good-bye to this beautiful friend. Anyone that was caught in the wake of her life loved her. It was how she lived and loved- that was the golden thread that stitched together the ordinary seams of her life. Funerals are as much collective 锘縨editations as tearful goodbyes to one person. We use the departed life as a lens to assess our own. So, I ask you, how would you like to be remembered?
Seriously...
It is likely that she never realized the impact she had on people. She lightened my heart. And yet, all she was doing was being herself. Just by being her; her love - deep and deliberate. How is it some people just have that effect on people?
As I was kneeling at her grave, I could feel the cadence, the rhythm of the horse鈥檚 hooves contrasting with the solemnity of the journey. I couldn't turn around, but the scene was burnt in my memory.
Of course, today was not so pretty, but, this is from around the time she was laid to rest. It seems so long ago, and in time, I guess it really is. But, every once in a while, I cut through a path that brings me right in front of her, and I take a moment to give thanks to God for putting her in my life for a short time.
I write this not out of sadness, but, sharing the peaceful surroundings that quiet my heart. I look back at these pictures, watching the trees hug her goodnight
There is a soft whisper in the breeze... and I say my goodbye.
There are daffodils standing in the fields, coloring the landscape in a bright hue of spring. How can one refute the fact that this very moment in your life becomes part of your very own story? No right. No wrong. It is up to you how you want to write it.
All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.
Thank you for visiting my post 馃挅 Don't ever forget what a wonderful world we live in, people. Kindness counts. Wherever you go, whatever you do.
Shall I compare thee to a summer鈥檚 day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer鈥檚 lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature鈥檚 changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow鈥檚t,
Nor shall death brag thou wander鈥檚t in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow鈥檚t,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Shakespeare