The Tree Stands Alone
Today I am grateful for the plush beauty and current blossoms in our backyard. I am also grateful for the wisdom and gratitude practices others share.
The tree in the pictures below was part of the view we enjoyed on the back deck of what we came to call "the ranch" or the "country house" on our recent trip to Colorado for my sister Mary Jo's celebration of life. My husband Darcy and I stayed there along with several other family members. The space and splendor were well worth the bumpy ride to get there.
We noticed this tree right away. The pictures don't do it justice entirely. It stood apart. It stood strong. There was something majestic and intriguing about it. It changed as the light changed. It pulled my attention to it every time I sat out on that deck, alone or with others.
Grief shifts and changes. The concern and worry for Mary Jo the last months, the last year and more, are replaced by a deeper sense of loss, and yet some peace as well. Like the tree, we stand alone in our grief at times. Grief is such a personal and inward journey.
And yet, we share our grief too. We share that sense of a gaping hole at #6 in the sibling line-up.
The tree stands alone, yet it gives strength and peace. It stood watch as my family gathered to honor our deceased sister with everything from quiet conversations and individual reflection time to a raucous sing-along.
The tree stands alone, but I don't feel alone in this moment.
The tree in the pictures below was part of the view we enjoyed on the back deck of what we came to call "the ranch" or the "country house" on our recent trip to Colorado for my sister Mary Jo's celebration of life. My husband Darcy and I stayed there along with several other family members. The space and splendor were well worth the bumpy ride to get there.
We noticed this tree right away. The pictures don't do it justice entirely. It stood apart. It stood strong. There was something majestic and intriguing about it. It changed as the light changed. It pulled my attention to it every time I sat out on that deck, alone or with others.
And yet, we share our grief too. We share that sense of a gaping hole at #6 in the sibling line-up.
The tree stands alone, yet it gives strength and peace. It stood watch as my family gathered to honor our deceased sister with everything from quiet conversations and individual reflection time to a raucous sing-along.
The tree stands alone, but I don't feel alone in this moment.
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