losing a loved one
The simple and unassuming woman that you might not have noticed had a strength and wisdom that most could learn from.
The video of their reactions is so touching. It's almost un*bear*able.
My family and I are arriving at the one-year anniversary of my dear father's death. The colors are gradually returning to my world. The grass, flowers, sky, and sunsets have been moving from sepia tints to muted tones, although still somewhat anemic versions of their true hues.
It's essential to recognize that a sanctuary doesn't even have to exist outdoors -- you can assign refuge status to any spot you dedicate for reflection, even your sofa -- as long as it offers you a quiet place to remember.
Finally, taking the time to pause and really value each of the events that pass our way, rather than just moving mindlessly from one moment to the next, can ensure that we really experience life, instead of failing to see the ties and connections that truly prove the connectedness of us all.
In the end, it's the little things that can mean the most.
I'd planned to tell Mom how much I loved her, but it was too late. I swallowed the lump in my throat and instead all I could hear myself say was, "Mom, I can't look at you, because if I do I know I'll lose it." We took one step, then another, and walked what I didn't know would be the last walk we'd ever share again. And just like that, she gave me away.
I am not a scientist or a guru, and I have no other way of explaining what happened in those moments between Myla's death and me in a parking lot trying to pull my shirt off, or my friend heading straight into a tree, but I have a belief.
When something as sweeping as death happens, it's easy to lose your balance and get lost in the swirling vortex of heightened emotions inside and outside you.
Have your handkerchief at the ready.