It’s the fourth day since my brother passed. This morning the grief is different like I’ve been hit by a truck. If I were a car, I would be towed to the body shop and repaired. I’m not a car. How will the pain of grief manifest today?
I’m reminded of these words by John Squadra from his poem “Circle of the Goddess” in the book This Ecstasy.
When you love,
you complete a circle.
When you die,
the circle remains.
The circle remains because my brother loved and it takes time for the surrounding sprouts to rise in this new exposure to sun. When the Mother redwood tree dies, a circle forms around the space. It’s not immediate even though the roots are already twined. The rise take time.
I open to the loving support I’m receiving and nest inside my own circle like a cat curled.
I’m a fan furled and unfurled wondering what reaches in to caress me now.
It’s evening. It’s been a day of connection, love, and peace. I feel different, changed, as though massaged from above. My brother is here and I miss him, reach toward his light like the leaves of a Maple tree.