Good Grief

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. ~William Shakespeare

My mother loved her garden. It soothed her soul. Now it soothes mine.
Grief is like a tear- changing how we see. Magnifying, clarifying between the blinks.

It gives us the courage to slow down. Take stock of our priorities. Focus on what is important.

The first two days after my mother's death were calm waters for me. On the third day- an innocuous comment kicked my stoicism right over the proverbial cliff. Before I hit bottom - convulsions of extreme sadness rocketed the veneer of inner peace to another planet.

That isn't healthy. How to get past quickly before the damage spreads and takes hold like Hatfields and McCoys?

Go to where my mother went in times of turmoil. To the garden.

Let the tears flow. Where the heart sprung a leak at death's arrow, refill and refresh in the garden. Every healing message awaits our partaking it there.

Images are by Gene Sasse. The rose is 'Wild Blue Yonder'- Posted with permission.