Remembering Matt

Let our souls be mountains.

Let our spirits be stars.

Let our hearts be worlds.

(taken from a quote by Ansel Adams)

the ache of April

I’m beginning to feel the distraction and quiet heartache that goes with April for me. 

This is the sixth year since our son, Matt,  died . . . so hard to take that in.   How could it have been six years since I’ve seen his smile or heard his voice ?  How could I have lived six years without him when he is so much a part of me ? 

Every year about this time, I begin to feel different.  I feel a little fragile, just generally sad and like something is just out of sync within me.  I know what it is, so now I expect it - knowing why it comes and knowing it will be compassionately balanced by my intentional focus on the gift of his life in mine.  Still, knowing doesn’t eliminate the heartache – it simply clothes it in tenderness. 

It is the journey of losing a child.  It is my journey. . . . unbelievable as that still seems.

So, I take deep breaths of honesty, of patience with my “reality”, of compassion for all the other families whose hearts break for whatever reason.  I watch the sun come up and marvel in the way it makes the trees in our backyard sparkle.  I listen to the quiet birdsongs and watch spring open its color for all to see.  I cry that life has to include pain like this. 

And once again, I am grateful for knowing so clearly what matters . . .

          that it is all about how we love. . . . 

                   just that  . . .

                             how we love . . .   

when birds sing in the dark

when birds sing in the dark

Have you ever heard a bird sing in the dark?   

I have heard this maybe only once or twice, but each time,  instead of thinking that it must be some confused cardinal , it feels like a message from some other consciousness.  So, I stop and listen more deeply  . . . and ask what is it I’m meant to  hear?   I believe in unexpected moments when “reality” seems to change in an instant.

You may know what I mean . . . a butterfly or a hummingbird stops in mid-air right in front of you and stays there like some  fluttering connection . . . or a rabbit hops along beside you on a walk, unafraid, as if to be near you for a moment.  . . . or a birdsong suddenly fills the dark night.  Is that just a coincidence?  Is it mere happenstance?  Or is it a glimpse of another connection that we simply do not yet understand?  

Many people – perhaps, most – would smile quietly and shake their heads at this. I agree it sounds a bit outlandish . . . but who am I to believe that I am so wise that I have the world figured out?  It seems far more likely that there are Truths that I have yet to even imagine.

 It seems far more likely that deep love can live on beyond what my mortal eye can see.