I have no more words.
Let the soul speak
With the silent articulation
of a face.
– Rumi
Sam (3/2/98 – 4/30/07)
He is the missing letter from every one of my words.
And, he is the lost words I seek.
the missing letter
Tag Archives: Now: life after loss
unfriended
“In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends.”
~ John Churton Collins
If you are an underclassman (in your first few years) majoring, involuntarily, in Life after the Death of your Child, you may find yourself bewildered at the flight of your friends, at the loss of your former support system, and at the dead air you’ve heard crackling since the death of your child. The phone has stopped ringing. The emails have ended. The holiday cards are conspicuously absent. The voice messages you left (“Hey, friend’s name here, just checkin in. Hope all’s well. Talk to ya soon. Love ya.”) have yet to be returned. The summer visits are no longer anticipated. The secrets you’ve shared have gone underground. And, at this point you’ve run out of excuses for their absence. You’re angry. Hurt, abandoned—left for dead. And, if it’s even possible, you’re sadness has deepened.
Okay, so this was my experience.
Continue reading “unfriended”what I learned from a soldier
In Memory of my father, Don Everett (9/1/1935 – 1/9/2008)
What I learned from a soldier…
About strength
It’s okay to cry…
Reggie, my heart therapy
December, 2005, Sam, Joey & Reggie
He sees me
June 27, 2014. He loves a freshly cut lawn. He does a down-dog-stretch before squeezing through the rectangular flap of a door. Outside. Sniffing a path, he finds a patch of sun and flops onto his side. Lying still for a minute, he soaks up the warmth, then rolls onto his stomach. Sphinx-like, his front legs out, chest high, ears alert, nose twitching, reading the air. He starts when a dragonfly skips by him, and I laugh. I’ve been watching him from the patio, learning from him how to be in the moment. He sees me and stands up, tail wagging. Making his way back through his magnetic door, he prances over to me and presents himself for a back rub.
Continue reading “Reggie, my heart therapy”“Wanna see a picture of my baby that died?” she said.
Life had different plans
The day before yesterday (Thursday, May 1, 2014), I had plans to hit the month running, or at least walking. Post the first entry in the new series I’ve been working on. And then meditate—for at least ten minutes (a day)—a personal goal I’ve set for this May. Neither happened though. This day, life had different plans in store.
Continue reading ““Wanna see a picture of my baby that died?” she said.”
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