4/22/22
It's hard to believe I've reached the end of the trail on this first trip around the sun since my mom's death and the last immediate family I had. Love and reverence proved to be the only navigation tools available, and the only ones needed to cross the terrain of grief, though at times I felt ill-equipped to handle the tempest in my head as anger, pain, and sorrow came and went without warning. The sun falling behind the Rockies by 2 in the afternoon in mid-winter didn't make it any easier either, but the mountains did present to me the shadows and darkness I had to find my way through. I didn't come away with any more answers, but I also have far fewer questions, which won't get me far on Jeopardy, but that seems to be the least of that show's problems right now. I'll always wish I could have done more for my mom and that she would have suffered less in those last few years, as strokes took her mobility and independence, and aphasia was so severe she couldn't even gain pleasure from music other than visuals (thank you Pete Townshend for your "windmills" and understanding of the role of physicality in rock and roll). I am grateful I could keep an open heart and open eyes as I sorted through it all, for this allowed me to find the beauty that was scattered in the rubble. I miss my loved ones a great deal. Time isn't likely to heal that either. But as I feel weighed down by moments in the past I have wasted and lifted up by the times I have lived thoroughly, every breath and heartbeat I still have left offer me a choice to tip the scales more in my favor and take every chance I have to get on with gettin' off.
Love and gratitude to my wonderful mom and dad, my grandparents, and Magoo and Kitty. I continue on with the wealth of having had our journeys joined together and all the glorious energy you have brought to this world.
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