Would
she have been a career woman? Or a
mother, would I have more grandchildren?
Perhaps both?
These
are the eternal questions that stay unanswered and haunt my reveries.
I
am continually surprised and confounded by how this grief over time has so
profoundly changed me. I doubt I
could capture in words how, as it is still changing me, and is a process that I
can’t predict or control.
At
the core of my being there is this space that belongs to her and I am never
very far from that grief, it is easy to slip into that sadness. There has grown up around that space a
garden of my life that is deep and rich because I so value what I have. I go
back again and again to that crooked garden to renew and remind myself that
life is still good.
Every
year is hard in it’s own way.
But grief is always a walk alone
But grief is always a walk alone
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