Finding The Words




Sometimes I simply have no idea how to fill this page.  When there is no recent hike or trip to share with you, or no entry for a photo prompt.  I am in too much of a rush to photograph what I have been cooking--the kale salad or the madeleine's made for guests.

I nudge myself during these lulls to ask how I am feeling.  Surely, there must be something knocking around in my heart to express.

Day by day the pieces began coming together until this morning I was nearly overwhelmed.

I spent nineteen hours last week with someone who I haven't seen in nearly two years, since the day of Aaron's service.   She had many opportunities during the visit to ask me, us, how we are doing, how we are getting along, managing, coping.  No such inquiry was ever extended.

She is not brave enough.

I did not feel angry at the time because our talks were pleasant.  We caught up a bit under easier circumstances.  She invited us to stay with her family in the mountains during the summer. It is not the first invitation, but the first I might consider.

I described this visit to someone else who knows our story well.  He was furious with our guest.

But for all this one person couldn't give, and this is someone most would argue has a responsibility to us to be supportive, there has been sudden acknowledgment and attention from others for no particular reason.

The day after this visit we met for lunch with Aaron's teacher.  Yesterday, there was a long conversation with someone who said they had been thinking of us after attending a funeral for a colleague's daughter.  A couple hours later, I was walking into Olivia's school and a teacher who was coming out the door stopped to ask me how we are, in the true sense, and that she thinks of us and prays for our family.  A few hours following, while out walking the dogs, I spoke with someone in the neighborhood who had no idea of Aaron's passing, and expressed their sorrow.  This morning, a photo of a tree planted in Aaron's memory was posted on my FB wall.  His tree is blooming and well cared for nearly two years later.

I can only marvel at how love and support have found their way to me.  A rushing in to fill the silence.

What we need isn't always to be found where we are looking. I have a hard time accepting and remembering this. 

As this random outpouring accumulated for me until it became too large to ignore, the horror at the Boston Marathon made itself felt.

Perhaps this tragedy played a role in the collective compassion coming my way.  Who's to say.  I do know that a painful journey for many begins.