Somewhere along the way I found it easier to write about the pain then to document the joy.
Pen to paper, words poured out in sadness.
An instant relief in the acknowledgement of the agony.
But, what am I to do when days of joy fall swiftly one after the other?
I’m not chasing the stages of grief. If I say it out loud will I jinx it?
You should know I am happy.
I make plans for my girls.
I dream about the man I love.
And, I am in awe of the life I’m living.
The words now typed I will trust.
Regardless of what happens next, today’s joy will always be mine.
Dear Ellery Jane,
Six year ago today you completed our family; the exclamation point at the end of our sentence.
We became a team on September 24, 2010.
We our grateful and we are blessed that God brought you into our home.
Each day you delight us with your wit and your charm.
With your presence, laughter fills this space.
You’re simply the most perfect bundle of love.
Six years have flown by in the blink of an eye.
But you, more than any other, have taught me to slow down and cherish the moment.
Enjoy your day my most beautiful girl.
I cannot wait to watch your next year unfold.
I am very proud of you.
Your one and only Momma
Your favorite part of the letter (maybe next year I should begin with this); your birthday song. It’s a better place since you came along my girl.
She taught compassion.
She modeled empathy.
She showed endless, unconditional love.
She was patient.
She protected tender hearts.
She was for each of us an ear to listen when all others would do is speak.
She was a gentle soul living out a second act.
I can’t help but feel I failed her.
But, in her ending, we are give another chance to learn.
Life expectancy does not dictate the impact of one’s life.
Tonight we will honor her with her favorites. We will take a walk in the woods, sit on the patio, lick peanut butter from spoons and watch the sun fade.
Good night dear friend, until we meet again.
There is a space inside that yearned for quiet.
I tried to find it in activity;
the daily morning runs,
the hour after children are sleeping while lunches are packed and papers signed.
I thought I could find the quiet as long as I was by myself;
taught that sitting alone with words dancing in my head, my hands idle, is not how one gets to next.
Fill your days.
Do more, be more, strive for more.
Whatever you do don’t just sit.
The void remained.
It took half a lifetime to learn that its ok to just be,
that in order for the silence to come I must invite it with my posture.
Each morning now words of thanks whispered from the perch on my leather chair. The quiet I find in the stillness of the moment.
I am not doing.
It doesn’t mean I am less then.
It means I can become more than I was.