free

I haven’t had many words lately. Could blame it on a perfect storm of life … stressful days of work combined with medically hindered hubby-hand. And this. But the fact of it is likely that my words have simply been held back by the too-muchness of this grief. If I’ve learned anything in my days-short-of-42 years, it’s that death is a horrible, horrible reality. It doesn’t matter how expected or unexpected, how “natural” or traumatic it is. We, as human beings, are simply bad at it. My way of being “bad” at it is, oftentimes, an attempt to put up my walls and remove myself, in some form or fashion. Knowing this about myself, I am grateful for the physical intensity of my pain this time around. Today my eyes were, for the most part, dry (barring a few that my brother brought with his eloquent tribute to her). I am quite sure that tears will continue, and that the days, weeks, months, years ahead will be hard. But tonight I am grateful to be resting from the day. I am grateful for a full day of family. I am grateful for the children that ran freely over the hills while the burial ceremony proceeded. And I am grateful that these same young ones gave me the comfort of smiling chats with them over mini acorns and giant pine cones, over grippy shoes versus slippery sandals, over whether one might be able to comfortably lie down for a nap on a concrete slab intended as a prop for a casket. And I couldn’t help but smile and miss the days of running freely, barefoot and carefree, myself. But then we closed the ceremony with a rousing version of “Oh happy day.” I said along, and I danced. And I realized that this moment, this present, with this family of mine, is the only place I can imagine being. Until then. 

Yeah if you go there (Oh happy day)

Yeah, before I do, yeah (Oh happy day)

Just tell my friends I’m there (Oh happy day)

Then I’m coming too, yeah (Oh happy day)