Day 8 – Resurrecting

We each have a different tradition on this day. I look out as sun strikes the ridge with light and birds sing and squirrels chirp.  I read about the explosions, blood and killings in Sri Lanka. I’m tempted to leave this page blank, feeling there are no words to express what I might say, and I resolved to post each day after my brother’s passing as my homage to him who was my greatest cheerleader.  As older sister, I could do no wrong.

My family is gathering today.  I look forward to the sanctity in that while knowing there is death for others, pain.

I feel my brother coming through in various ways, allowing me to know he is here in different form.  Spirit speaks. I feel love in my being, peace.

St. Francis and Froggie Buddha together today!

Fifth Day of Grief

On the fifth day of grief, my feet are cobblestones, walking ancient paths.

I wonder if part of the grieving process is the other also letting go, a separation, gently, roughly, tenderly, kindly, agonizingly painful separation of paths.

Both stand at a crossroads, and then, how do we let go?

As we gather in connection, I wonder if the one who has passed is beckoning us together, gathering us like flowers into one bouquet and for a time we share a vase, in gathering, a vine.