And never is that dull thud more evident than the first week of one of the most pleasant of month’s…May. The telephone’s signal flashes me back to the calls…some of which I participated…some not. The phone as harbinger…the news of impending suffering and subsequent death. Mother…Father…Boyhood Friend…College Roommate. Just when everything around me is being reborn, I am haunted by dreams of hospital beds…the tired expression in the eyes of those I never really thought would leave…plugs pulled in loving resolve…greeting hours…the cold feel of brass coffin handles…finality…the “everness” of forever.
It at once seems silly to me to talk about…yet the pain…not deep enough to salve the guilt that comes with it…inspires…requires me to do just that. I know I must embrace it…to suffer just a bit in remembrance. To deny the pain…to shun it…would disrespect the ones who are gone. I embrace that dull, thudding pain in my heart…and wait for the fog to lift. To return to the garden. To grow something that lives…again this year…and the days that remain for myself and those I care for.
