Somewhere the other day I saw a rainbow of light reflected wanly from some unknown source onto a bleak off-white wall. I stared at it a long time, unthinking.
When I got home, I told K. I want to find some clear faceted balls like the ones in Mom's kitchen window. I want to see prisms of light brilliant against the walls of our home. I want to see her in the light she so loved.
I miss her. And I fear the deeper aches to come. On days like this, hope is merely a word; the future is too far away to comprehend. Yet one can always hope for hope.
3 comments:
Are you all right?
It's kind of you to ask, Bill. Yes, mostly. My mother-in-law's death has been very hard; she was a second mother to me. My father's rapidly declining health is hard to see, and it all reminds me that my mother, healthy as she is, won't be with us forever either. And, honestly, though she lives half the country away, I can't imagine my life without her.
So, on certain days, I can't see beyond the now that holds so much suffering and loss and sorrow of this broken world to the Hope that, intellectually, I know and trust.
On those days, it's a good thing I have a distinct vocation with some external motivators . . . :) The last week or so has been better, most of the time
Thank you for your words, and God keep you, as well.
It's nice to know He holds our dear ones...
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