Friday, March 9, 2012

Grief


On March 2nd, I woke to the sound of rain.  It had been twenty-three years since my son’s death.  Even the skies wept for this beautiful man who had died ten days before his 36th birthday.
            I knew I was okay, fine really, as reconciled to his suicide as I’ll probably ever get.  But I wished he could visit—just a touch, a hug, a few words, so little to ask. I miss him. I wept with the rain as my heart remembered its wounding.
            Another anniversary but I must live my life fully. He’d want it that way. So I went about my day, finding others to love and care for, giving a touch, a hug, a few intimate words.  So little and yet so much. It rained all day.
           



7 comments:

  1. Hi Ruth,
    Thoughts, prayers and heart are with you. I think Bill knows we love him.

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    1. Thanks, Michael. Your kind thoughts mean a lot to me.

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  2. I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you Grammy. I hope to meet him someday. hugs!

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    1. Thanks for the kind words and the hugs. I need all I can get.

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    1. "So little and yet so much" is very apt. Sometimes all we can do is pass on the love, and that is quite the gift. Thinking of you and your family.

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    2. Thanks, Jenn. I appreciate your kind thoughts.

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