Grief has a strange way of ripping us open. The familiar becomes foreign, time speeds up and slows down simultaneously, and nothing is as it was or will ever be the same again. (If you are dealing with grief, especially the loss of a parent, and at any time this post is too much, please be kind to yourself and know it’s totally fine to stop reading.)
Thank you for this. I lost my Mother, May 1, 2020, my Father, February 9, 2022 and my daughter, age 46, May 10, 2022. We also lost our youngest daughter, age 18, on March 10, 2000. We do not really know how we changed because we don’t know how we would have been had this not happened. I resonate with vulnerability and with wonder. I see a bird sitting quietly looking at me and I wonder. I see and hear a bird sitting at the very top of the tall blue spruce and I wonder. I smell the fragrance in the air of lilacs and I wonder. Especially when the doves or cardinals come to our little backyard, I wonder. So many reminders that the tender Shepherd is with us, upholding us and surrounding us with love and care.
How Grief Opened Me Up to Wonder
Thank you for this. I lost my Mother, May 1, 2020, my Father, February 9, 2022 and my daughter, age 46, May 10, 2022. We also lost our youngest daughter, age 18, on March 10, 2000. We do not really know how we changed because we don’t know how we would have been had this not happened. I resonate with vulnerability and with wonder. I see a bird sitting quietly looking at me and I wonder. I see and hear a bird sitting at the very top of the tall blue spruce and I wonder. I smell the fragrance in the air of lilacs and I wonder. Especially when the doves or cardinals come to our little backyard, I wonder. So many reminders that the tender Shepherd is with us, upholding us and surrounding us with love and care.