GRIEF ... almost a year after.

                    Mothers Day morning of 2013 found me covered with a dark shroud of sadness. The night before my mom had  passed away with a heart attack.

                    The last I saw her we had prayed together for a good night sleep. Then, I left to come up to my home, not far from hers in our property. Who knew that was our last good bye? The last time I kissed my mother good night.
                   
                      Soon I will come face to face with another Mothers Day. Already I'm remembering how two days before her death we spent a special day together at one of her favorite restaurants. An Amish restaurant in Sarasota. The memory of her happiness that day soothes the pain of her absence.
                     
                      Grief  almost a year after? It's still here. Not as a cut from a razor that jags but as a wound in the process of healing reopened by the ambush of memories.

                       Grief almost a year after is still an acute teacher reminding me that now is the time to kiss, to hug, to love.
                      To view my present as a priceless, fragile bird to caress and to hold. And to learn to sing in tune to that bird's song for that too, is a gift from The Master of all.