We just passed the anniversary of my daughter's memorial service. Prior to that, on the anniversary of her death, we scattered her ashes where the river meets the sea on the Mendocino coast, where she and Jacob had played together.
It was tough but also freeing. Amidst my tears I lost control of the empty bag of ashes while being pushed at once from both the river and ocean currents. I almost fell in. I didn't recover the bag. There's a poem in that.
While looking through a draft file last night I found a three-line sketch and re-formatted it:
On Rachel's Death
in the ground
left by the tree
the hole left
by her life
or my life
or any life
Loss is a coin
a depthless well;
for a splash
I'm in some sort of mixed state, can go from anger to worry to sadness to confidence to happiness in a matter of hours. I've increased my Abilify dose because of it.
Aren't some of the Olympic commercials terrific? Love the United ads.