Some Days Are Just Sad

Some days are sad. It's hard to write. It's hard to do what I am supposed to be doing. It's hard to find the joy.

It's hard right now to care about getting out my Christmas decorations. I know it's not Thanksgiving yet.... but i am going to be gone for almost a month... again. 

It's hard to pack for a long planned and awaited trip......

I am sad because my dad died last Wednesday. 

I am sad because my mom is incredibly sad. 

Super sad and yet strong.

It's hard to find words to mouth at my dads memorial. Words become rocks that I choke on..... hard to smooth out the thoughts and emotions and work on to paper.

 I will not search for ways to stop this or blot the pain by diversions. 

It's okay to be sad. He was a good dad..... he is worthy of me being sad.

Don't misunderstand..... there is joy in knowing the full truth of my dads new home. I am thrilled and amazed that he has entered the gates of heaven. How wonderful... and yet it is mingled with a heart that is struggling.

Love does that....

It strips us bare. It leaves us raw and trembling.

It has to be felt and worked through, like working through a mill, being ground up. I imagine it takes time. Sounds so cliche.

My friend Stephanie sent me this poem last week, after dad died. 

It is quite lovely.

The rain that fell a-yesterday is ruby on the roses,
Silver on the poplar leaf, and gold on willow stem;
The grief that chanced a-yesterday is silence that inclosesHoly loves when time and change shall never trouble them.

The rain that fell a-yesterday makes all the hillsides glisten,
Coral on the laurel and beryl on the grass;
The grief that chanced a-yesterday as taught the soul to listen
For whispers of eternity in all the winds that pass.

O faint-of-heart, storm-beaten, this rain will gleam tomorrow,
Flame within the columbine and jewels on the thorn,
Heaven is the forget-me-not; though sorrow now be sorrow,
Yet sorrow shall be beauty in the magic of the morn.
(Katherine Lee Bates)