A voice, some one's, tells me to look at my nature journal~ the one that morphed from daily sightings to record of our last month together. I had written, bleary-eyed, at the end of each day the happenings and snippets of our conversations. From the pages I heard her voice as I read the words of progressive days: "My sweetie pie, my sweetie pie." "I know this is hard for you."
From the pages, my healing begins to take shape as I am reminded of my full presence in her hours and days of need, of the blueprint agreement my soul made to hold her in the light as her life went dark. I am reminded of our continual hand-holding, her wry humor, the countless declarations of love.I begin to understand, my guilt over the small things I could not grasp quickly or could not prevent is unnecessary. That the largesse of my fussing and company likely rendered the small moments inconsequential.
And so, a layer of guilt is released. I wonder if more guilt lies dormant.
There is a yearning inside for life.
oh love, what a beautiful brave heart you have.
ReplyDeletei love you so.
the yearning inside for life. the stuff that keeps us putting one foot in front of the other, which sometimes looks like just sitting.
ReplyDeletexoxoxo
tears to my eyes at your words... let it all go, that guilt... the love you had for each other shines right through everything. everything.
ReplyDeletei always questioned. and did so when mom died. it is sad and bittersweet.and another part of my trip.
ReplyDeleteyou are articulate and i long to be. your words are simple and true. blessings. d.