Those dear women looked at each other for a moment, and simultaneously burst out laughing. They giggled as though this were the funniest joke they had ever heard.
For a person who epitomized life itself, it was a setback to be ravaged by cancer. A woman who was on her toes for most part of her day, it was upsetting to be confined to a bed. And, a lady who liked to dress up, losing her crowning glory to treatment was a massive blow.
My grief didn’t turn me into a superhero. But seeing these people using their grief for good does inspire me.
Who has an immunity to loss? Is the loss of one person, a vaccine for the next passing?
Time to prepare for his funeral/memorial service. Time to get his financial affairs in order. And even time to give in to anticipatory grief.
Today, for me Christmas is about having less, giving to others and indulging in things that bring comfort and joy.
This year we won’t be doing that with you. Your Joy is still there, but your life moved on.
I never would have guessed it.
Until you confessed it – how deep it grew.
In the things you contemplated
When we kids moved out.
I got to thinking about that and realised the poem with the experience is about enigma.
I can’t help but wonder: does my memory serve me? Or, have you have been gone so long that I can barely find the memory?