Family

The father wrote a song when he thought his son might not walk again - a good, soulful song to express his heart - words in service of the unsayable.

Its like that with you and your family. I wrote a song on the piano - three in fact by now, but will not send them - they express the trickster that wants to mess shit up again - stir the calm and order that this decision is slowly eeking out, grief day by grief day.

Thoughts of family - my family - parents who came for lunch - a simple meal of pumpkin soup from the garden - not knowing what to say to me but their presence a comfort - which I tell them. One of my readers sent me flowers and a card yesterday - tulip bulbs - dead for now - but in Spring - new life. So uncanny the timing of our season off each other - your high summer solstice - my dark mountain winter. Brian and Mark were in my thoughts this morning - thinking of the demons each of us carry and how do we live with them? How do we do so in ways that do not self destruct ourselves?

I wondered this morning if this grief will ruin me - for it carries on deeper and longer and I don’t know when it will end. The thought of you showing up unannounced the only thought that I would welcome - the sheer risk of it to you. But I let that thought go - pour this tea and settle in - settle in for another day of come what may - and my feet firmly planted in this ground of grief.