When speaking to the maker, it’s a restful time. No shortage of gratitude begins the time together.
With friends too. Just all the good. There are good things everywhere! Back rubs, picking fruit with kiddos, doing art, new school years and new jobs… vacations and new things.
But tonight has blown in a distinct, old, familiar… grief. Life happens in the joyful moments, seek them out and settle in there. But sometimes, maybe it isn’t wrong to just grieve. Maybe it’s wrong Not to grieve.
The past weeks have wrought a beautiful young man of 11 to be laid to rest. Ornithologist in the makings, he was. A beautiful intelligent lifesaver friend whose life has unraveled in the past years with health and addiction and watching her own beautiful loves fall away. In my own court, dreams are slipping from grasp. After trying so hard for so long to hold on to them, it simply feels as though the inevitable is beginning.
So tonight, there is Sad. Sad blue girl. Sad Billie Holiday curling her voice around “God Bless that Child that’s got his own…” She has always been a companion in solitude and Sad, but the loss of children … her sounds are too sweet for this desert.
Typically, a smile is my favorite thing to wear. Perhaps a little bit of awkward chaos. But Sad, not as much. It is a foreign land. Hide in the bed or in a book. Hide from everything. Lost away from my own life.
However, each morning awake. Morning hugs (an important tradition). What needs to be done might get done. There are needs, this one sits on my lap. We play Candyland, read a book together. Tracing the perfect curve of eyebrows of a seven-year old and linger too long in the late morning with her just talking, because she is My Gift and treasure. Fix some food, play Sudoku to forget. Chores, violin, requests and responsibilities all parade through the day. In each activity there might be some much desired forgetting of Sad for just a moment, or perhaps not. But when it grows quiet again, and I sit down, she returns. Rest with her is a cold comfort. She crumbles me and again I want to hide.
Sometimes there is sad. Heavy heart. Empty empty. No nothing, just sad.
Prayer for the awkward August sunshine on a Sad day.
Tomorrow will make something, bring it for someone else. It will be a little inconvenient on a busy day as the school year begins, but only these small sacred activities scoop one momentarily outside of Sad.
Slowly sad will ebb away like a tide, rolling in on intervals. A long conversation with a friend. Some tears, some more. Hugs, time and dinners with friends. Maybe too many donuts at some point. She will leave without saying good bye, because she will be back periodically for many years, reminding me of this season with her.