Sappho
Weeping is the hardest part for me. Once I start I am terrified that I will not be able to stop. The waves of grief crash over me with such ferocity that I am crushed under them gasping for breath.
Everywhere I look people are in the Holiday Season and I, not unlike many others, am in my Season of Grief.
New layers were added to my grief this year. The loss of my daughter, Kelly, this summer and the passing of what would have been her 43rd birthday this past October. The rapid approach of December 18th. The 6th year anniversary of Michael’s death. Christmas Day the first anniversary of my father’s death. I feel like the bush in the photo, dormant covered in the weight of the cold unforgiving snow. I can barely remember my spring when the first green shoots appear and later in my full glory under the sun I flowered and was full of hope.
My heart is heavy with it’s burdens and laughter seems like a blasphemy. I have no will to celebrate and fill my days with shopping and merrymaking. Instead, I wish to sit and ponder my memories and wrap myself in their warmth until the New Year when perhaps, once again I can flower and bask in the warmth of hope and new beginnings.
