Monday, July 23, 2018

July, 2018

I went to my yoga class today.  It was fun, and uplifting, an all-things-good.

Up until the savasana segment, where one lies for ~ 3-5 minutes, reflecting.  I don't know how or why, but the backyard of my childhood home came into my mind.  My Dad's rose bushes.  The wisteria on the back fence.  The three Slash Pines, a Father's Day gift from me to him, some thirty years ago.  They are sky-high and fabulous.  In my yoga mind's eye, I still see an outdoor sculpture that my Dad made many years ago.  It was not a popular work of art, and I don't know where it is, now, a year after Dad passed. 

I see Gene Beck's cats - our neighbor who harbors cats, much to my Dad's consternation.  (And this is another post for another day.)

Lying on my back, I felt tears rolling off the sides of my forehead. I took my t-shirt and wiped the corners of my eyes.   

This note is just to acknowledge that one's loss is not over in a month, or in a year.   

1 comment:

Melissa G said...

(((((hugs))))) One's grief is never really "over". But there is the hope of seeing our loved ones again, and that makes the grief bearable.

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