By Don / Date: June 13th, 2018
Her Husband died that day.
It took a while. After the grief, guilt, the many shades and graces of pain. After the mourners had left. After the last of the old letters, now tear-stained and worn, ripped had finally been put in a bag at the back of the closet. Or burned. Along with the photos and their savage razor edges…
That she married the man he had become.
In her heart she knew there was more. She was Joy, when she remembered it. When she could hear it from others. From her friends, children. Even in the glance of someone at the store. From clients. Through all of it they could see something that sometimes she could not.
Of course she had killed him.
Everything that was not him. She refused it. She smashed her way out of the beautiful crystal box, way too small. Shattering the frozen tendrils of a dream, held in place by the tension of a reality that no longer fit.
She chose Life.
Hers.
And living in Grace.
And living for Love.
There would probably be cookies.
In time, she would return. It would be a new place. And the heart of it all would be larger, deeper and brimming over. It would be a wellspring where all could come to drink their fill and know what it meant to be fully alive.
Perhaps they would not know how this gift had got there; not being geologists of the aquifers and streams created by the tectonic forces of Love.
In time it would all be written anew.
She would find a place where her heart met resonance, big enough to be with all of her. Nothing left behind. Nothing left out. At Peace.
Where all of her was at home.
In time.
She began.
For J.