Sitting here amongst the relics of old memories and life experiences, the edges now crumbled, some barely recognizable in their origin, purpose or story.
Just formed yesterday or residue of my ancestors’ journeys, the structure erodes.
There is sadness and longing in the erosion.
As the structure of what was folds back into the landscape, the experiences of yesterday become the soft touch of wind on my skin, the journey of tomorrow the warm light in the sky before me,
I need nothing more than the light and wind to remind me of where I have been and where I might next go.
The memories eroding in my mind become the bedrock of my being.
I imagine to the universe we are much like day lilies,
endless varieties,
no two alike.
Ages in the making,
we are relatively predictable in our growing,
blooming just for an instant.
The landscape of our world is ever changed by each little bud and blossom as it pops briefly open and vanishes instantly, leaving just its memory imprinted on the wind in its unique and lasting fragrance.
Grief…it’s not about the loss as much as creating and being able to access a little warm place in your heart where you hold that connection forever.
I used to think that grief was the act of severing ties and throwing away something special because it was lost.
But now I know that grief is a process of storing the memories of the specialness of every experience regardless of its labels, conditions, and how it came to be or not be.
Grief is experiencing the loss without getting lost.